Messianic Jews do not believe in three gods; we believe in only one God and this is non-negotiable. God is a mystery, and his being is beyond anything our finite minds can fathom. Allow me to explain what is and what is not meant when we say that God is “one.” Jews and Christians alike are aware that there are different aspects to God’s being. It is important for us to follow the Scriptures when we try to describe what God is like. Although the word “Trinity” is not something that can be found in the Scriptures, the concept behind it has been fashioned by putting together the different pieces of the puzzle of the scriptural depiction of God.

The Shema—”Hear, O Israel, the LORD our God, the LORD is one” (Deut. 6:4)—is the most basic Jewish confession of faith. What is meant by the word one (‘ehad) that is found in this confession? Messianic Jews understand this to mean a compound unity, while traditional Jews understand it to be an absolute unity. The word can mean a compound unity, though it doesn’t have to; however, contra Maimonides, it does not mean an absolute unity. Most likely, Maimonides maintained that Jews have to believe that God is “only” one as a reaction to exaggerated Christian concepts of God as “three.” His idea of absolute unity simply cannot be found in the Scriptures.

It might help to understand the meaning of ‘ehad by looking at some other Scripture passages in which this wordis found. In Genesis 2:4, it is used in the phrase “one flesh,” which occurs when a man is united to a woman; in other words, this use of “one” refers to a compound unity. In Exodus 36:13, the joining together of all the many pieces into the one Tabernacle is described by the word ‘ehad. In 2 Samuel 7:23 and Ezekiel 37:22, Israel is described as one nation made up of hundreds of thousands of people. Other examples could be produced, but the basic point should be clear: To say that Yahweh, the God of Israel, is ‘ehad does not tell us anything about his essential nature, whether he is three in one or ten in one.

God and Moses strictly warned Israel to ignore all the other gods worshipped by the surrounding nations and to worship YHWH, and only YHWH. This is the primary meaning of the Shema, and this use of the word ‘ehad (“alone,” “only”) can be found elsewhere in the Scriptures (e.g., 1 Chron. 29:1). Certain medieval commentators, including Abraham Ibn Ezra and Rashbam, believed the Shema was emphasizing that “the LORD is our God, the LORD alone,” or as Moshe Weinfeld entitles his discussion of the Shema, “Exclusive Allegiance to YHWH.” This interpretation is also found in the midrash to this passage (see b. Pesahim 56a; Sifre Deuteronomy 31; Genesis Rabbah 98:4). The prophet Isaiah echoes this call to allegiance (see Isa. 44:8; 45:5a; 45:18; 45:22). In other words, this understanding of the word “one” is not primarily interested in the nature of God’s being, but is meant to be a profession of faith.

“The LORD alone is our God” is something every follower of Jesus is able to affirm, but in addition to knowing that God is one, we want to know what the one LORD is like. Is there anything in the Hebrew Scriptures to indicate that God is one in a way that is similar to that of husband and wife, or Tabernacle, or nation—in other words, a compound unity?

Sometimes traditional Jews get so wrapped up in what they think Christians are saying when they speak about God as Trinity that it keeps them from taking a fresh look at what the Scriptures or the tradition say. Leave aside what Christians believe for a moment as we analyze together certain Jewish understandings of God. Are you familiar with the mystical concept of the ten Sefirot? This refers to divine emanations that help link the otherwise unknowable Creator to the earthly creation. In this sense, the being of God can be compared to a person and the many parts of his body, or to a tree with one central trunk and its many branches. In other words, in God, just as in these examples, there is both unity and multiplicity. The Scriptures describe God as demonstrating his presence in the cloud and fire over the Tabernacle and as sending his Spirit on his prophets, at the same time that he is in heaven. At the very least, we can affirm that God manifests his presence in various modes of being. There are other mystical ways of speaking about God’s being. The Zohar explains that there are five different expressions relating to various aspects of the threefold nature of the Lord. These are all Jewish ways of speaking about the one God, the only God we worship.

The Hebrew Bible sometimes speaks about God in the plural. The first chapter of Genesis refers to God as ‘elohim (which is a plural form). In this passage, God speaks about himself in the first person plural (“let us make man in our image, according to our likeness”). A similar address can be found in Isaiah 6:8 when God says, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Some followers of Jesus have considered these to be proofs of the Trinity; however, the rabbis have offered a different interpretation, pointing out that the plural noun in Genesis was followed by a singular verb (e.g.”Let us make man,” followed by “So God created” (bara’, singular).

Other cultures in the Ancient Near East referred to their deities in the compound plural. Furthermore, it was common practice to speak of an owner or master in the plural. One biblical example of this can be found in Genesis 24, where Abraham speaks of his master by using the plural ‘adônîm (lit. “lords”). (Other examples of this use of the plural when referring to a single person can be found in Gen. 39, Exod. 21, 1 Kings 1:11, Isa. 1:3, and Isa. 19:4.) There are also other references to God which use this compound plural (see Mal. 1:6; Ps. 8:2, 10; Deut. 10:17). Like other Semitic languages, Hebrew expressed concepts like “greatness, supremacy, exaltation, majesty and fullness” by means of compound plural nouns, even when referring to a single person or single deity. While these references to God or the Lord in the plural do not in any way prove Trinitarian beliefs, they are certainly in perfect harmony with everything we are trying to say here, namely, that in some way, the Lord’s unity is complex.

Several explanations by Jews and Christians have been given for the use of the plural “we” or “us” (like that which can be found in Genesis 1: “let us make man in our own image”). Some have interpreted this as the Father speaking to Son and/or Spirit. Other interpretations include the Lord speaking to the angels or as God deliberating with himself. While these verses should not be taken as proofs of the Trinity, they certainly do not rule out such beliefs; they could refer to a plurality or diversity within God’s unity.

Jesus, Peter and Paul all proclaimed the one and only God; they also declared Jesus to be Messiah and Lord, Son of God the Father and Creator (see John 17:3; Acts 2:22, 32, 36; 1 Cor. 8:4b-6; 1 Tim. 2:5-6; 1 Thess. 1:9-10). One of the main reasons Jesus was sent into the world was to draw people away from their idolatry to the worship of the one, true God.

The New Testament is definitely monotheistic, and it further clarifies the monotheism of the Hebrew Bible. The only true God is one, and yet his oneness is complex, unique, and beyond human understanding.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 3-14.

“If you claim that Jesus is God then you are guilty of making God into a man. You are an idol worshiper!“

Is Jesus God or not? This question is paramount since the answer to it contains profound ramifications for how we should live our lives. I can see that looking from the outside, it may seem to you that what Christians claim about Jesus is not all that different from the way Hindus might describe one of their holy men or gurus, claiming him to be the personification of one of their gods, referring to him as a “god-man” and worshipping him in a way that should only be reserved for God himself. Of course, such a view is incompatible with Judaism, but I assure you that this is not what Christians believe about Jesus!

Let me start this discussion with a quote from a very famous Jew: “No one has ever seen God.” Do you know who wrote this? He was known as Yochanan (“John”), and, as a faithful follower of Yeshua, he wrote what is now referred to as the Gospel of John. This phrase can be found right at the beginning of his book, and it is part of an explanation as to how all things came into being by means of the Word. He writes:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. (John 1:1-3)

This passage describes a unique relationship between the Word and God. John says that this Word was not only with God, but also was God, and that all things were made through him by God. Does this idea of creation taking place by means of the word sound familiar to you? It should, since that is how Genesis describes creation as coming into being – everything was created through God’s spoken word: “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Gen. 1:3). Of course, John’s emphasis is slightly different. What is John trying to say about the Word?

Before we answer this question, we first have to ask, Why is God depicted as speaking everything into being, rather than simply doing it? In the first chapter of Genesis, God’s word seems to have its own creative, dynamic force, a power and energy, a tangible release of God’s divine life, an extension of God’s nature, an expression of God’s will. This sense of God’s word having a mission and helping to carry out God’s will is not confined to the creation accounts, but can be found elsewhere in the Hebrew Scriptures (e.g., Ps. 107:20; Isa. 55:10-11; Ps. 147:15-18). God not only communicates with us, but reveals himself by means of his word. Of course, God speaks to us through the written word, but God’s word is more expansive than the written word. In other words, while the written word is the Word of God, it does not exhaust the Word of God.

The rabbis use the Aramaic word memra’ (from the Hebrew and Aramaic root ‘mr, “to say,” which is used throughout the creation account in Gen. 1) to express the concept of the word of God serving as a link between the transcendent God and his creation. There are hundreds of occurrences of memra’ in the Targums (Aramaic translations of the Hebrew Scriptures which were used in synagogues where the people no longer understood Hebrew before, during, and after the time of Jesus). The word memra’ was often added to biblical passages which reference God. For example, while Genesis 3:8 says that Adam and Eve “heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden,” the Targum says, “And they heard the sound of the Word of the Lord God walking in the midst of the garden.”

Another important example can be found in Genesis 28:20-21, in which Jacob says, “If God will be with me and watch over me on this journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father’s house, then the Lord will be my God.” The Targum has Jacob saying, “If the Word of the Lord will be with me . . . then the Word of the Lord will be my God.” Because these translations were used officially in the synagogues, they shaped the way the people heard and understood various passages and had a lasting effect on their religious life. Week in and week out, the people heard about this walking, talking, creating and saving Word, who was Jacob’s God.

If one were to substitute memra’ for “word” in the opening passage from the Gospel of John quoted above, one would easily see just how Jewish the passage sounds. John was a Galilean who wrote in Greek; he therefore used the word logos for “word” since he had grown up hearing the Aramaic Targum with its constant emphasis on the memra’ as an active link between God and human beings.

Philo of Alexandria, the most well-known Jewish philosopher of his day, roughly contemporary with Jesus and John, made great use of the term “logos,” which was understood to be a kind of mediating principle between God and human beings, an aspect or half-personal emanation of God. He even spokeof the logos as “the second god” and explained that human beings were actually created in the image of the logos, since nothing created could directly resemble God himself. Philo also referred to the logos as “firstborn” (protogonon), “archangel,” “Name of God,” and “governor and administrator of all things,” stating that the “Divine Word” (theios logos) is the “chief” of God’s powers (Hurtado, One God, One Lord, 45).

One of the main differences between Philo and John, however, was that John emphasized that the Word was able to live among us as a human being. According to John, God is very near to us through his logos, who became man. The Memra/logos is an extension of the Lord himself—in one sense God and in another sense with God— who came down from heaven to dwell among us. At the same time, God reigns on high and controls the universe, and did not exhaust his presence in the person of Jesus. In short, God is known personally through his Word, who became a human being, but God thereby did not cease to be God in heaven.

This may seem difficult to understand, but so do the Rabbinic concepts of Memra, Shekhina and Sefirot—all of which remind us that God cannot be comprehended by our finite minds.

John 1:14 reads: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling (lit. “pitched his tent”) among us.” There are many connections between this concept and the claim that God dwelt in the Tabernacle and Temple. Solomon built his magnificent structure as a dwelling place for God, though he knew that God could not be confined to that building or any other space on earth, yet God promised to dwell (“pitch his tent”) among his people (Exod. 25:8; 2 Chron. 6:1-2) in the Tabernacle and the Temple. John understands Jesus to be the fulfillment of these promises.

The Talmudic rabbis, Jewish philosophers and medieval mystics all wondered how Almighty God could dwell in our midst. Followers of Jesus answer this question by saying that God came to us through his Word, Yeshua, the Son of God. Just as God could be in his Temple, so he could be in his Son, filling them both with his glory and revealing his glory through both of them. Just as the glory of God filled the Tabernacle and Temple, without in any way emptying, depleting or lessening God, so also his glory fills his Son, without in any way emptying, depleting or lessening him.

John makes a point of saying “no one has ever seen God,” but then tells us that Jesus has made God known to us (John 1:18). Other passages in the New Testament emphasize this point. The fullness of the Father fills Yeshua (Eph. 1:22-23) and he represents God’s being (Heb. 1:2). Jesus told his first followers that if they knew him, they would know his Father also, and that because they had seen and known him, they had seen and known the Father, too, for the Father was living in him and he was living in his Father (John 14:7-11). In other words, whoever has seen the Son has seen the Father.

The Hebrew Scriptures raise the following question: How can a human being see God and live? In Exodus 33:20, God tells Moses, “You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live,” but just a few chapters earlier, Moses, Aaron, Nadab and Abihu and seventy elders had gone up Mt. Sinai where they “saw the God of Israel. . . . God did not raise his hand against these leaders of the Israelites; they saw God, and they ate and drank” (Exod. 24:9-11). How do you explain this apparent contradiction?

Abraham Ibn Ezra calls this encounter a prophetic vision, but this still does not explain why they went up the mountain, why only Moses was allowed to go closer, and why God didn’t respond as expected when they saw him. There seems to be something more going on here than just a vision.

The Targum adds the word “glory” to the text so that instead of seeing God himself, they saw “the glory of the God of Israel.” The Talmud (b. Sanhedrin38b) explains that Moses and the people did not see God himself, but saw Metatron, chief of the angels. In an attempt to preserve God’s glory, the Talmudic interpretation of this passage reads, “Come up to Metatron whose name is YHWH.” Is this any less problematic?

One might counter that Exodus 3 equates seeing an angel with seeing God. Targum Onkelos finds Exodus 3:6 too direct, and instead of the textual “Moses hid his face because he was afraid to look at God,” it prefers the reading, “Moses was afraid to look at the glory of the Shekhina of the Lord.” But this is similar to how the Targum presents Exodus 25:8, which, instead of saying “I [God] will dwell in their midst,” replaces “I” with “my Shekhina.” There does seem to be a blurring of the distinction between God and his angel (messenger) here, as in numerous other biblical passages. Another example of this is Genesis 32:24-30, where Jacob is described as wrestling with an angel, but expresses his surprise at still being alive after having seen God face to face. Is it any surprise that the Targum describes Jacob as seeing an “angel of the Lord,” rather than “God” himself?

Angels are often portrayed as creating links between God and creation, but they can also appear as the personification of [God’s] self-manifestation, as the concrete, visible, embodiment of the glorious God, especially when the passage emphasizes that this is a different kind of angel, one that is particularly identified with God. All of these interpretations of Scripture seek to provide a way of explaining how the Almighty can interact with his creation.

The various rabbinic explanations for “seeing God” can be synthesized into the following formula: “[God] dwells in our midst by his Shekhina, his glorious Presence, and he reveals himself to us through his angel, who bears his name. Seeing him is like seeing God, just not directly.”

That’s a good summary, but it is not in accordance with what the texts themselves say. Unless the angel is somehow more than an angel, what the person is seeing is an angel, not God. None of the angels in the Bible are ever referred to as “the Lord”—unless the messenger in some way really is the Lord. God did not just say that his Shekhina would dwell with the people, he said that he would.

The Bible makes a definite distinction between seeing the glory of God and seeing God himself. Traditional translators problematically substitute “glory” for “God.” Scripture says that it is impossible for people to see God and live. The dilemma is that either the interpretation seemingly has to deviate from what the text says, or people have actually seen God and have lived to tell about it, even though Scripture says that to see God is to die!

The only sufficient answer to this problem of “seeing God” is that it was the Son who was seen by these people. This is how John explains it: “No one has ever seen God; but the only unique Son, who is identical with God and is at the Father’s side—he has made him known” (1:18, JNT). The Messiah is the visible representation of the invisible God, the living manifestation of the glory of the Lord. He alone is distinct from God the Father and simultaneously bears the presence of God within him in a way that is qualitatively different from the way any of the other angels bear God’s presence.

As we continue to think through this problem of “seeing God,” let’s consider the story in Genesis 18, which tells the story of Abraham’s reception of the three visitors. The Hebrew text says that the Lord (YHWH) appeared to Abraham, and Abraham addressed him as “Lord,” yet a few verses later, it says that Abraham looked up and saw three men. Some Christians interpret this as a representation of the Trinity, but that’s problematic in that it allows for a human being to see the Father, which is unbiblical, and it also pictures God as three separate people, which is also completely contrary to the biblical understanding of God. Only one of the three visitors is addressed as Lord (‘adônay), though traditional translators translate this as ‘adônî or “my lord.”

According to the Talmud, the three visitors are the angels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. One of the problems with this view is that the text does not say that these angels replaced or represented the Lord. After their visit to Abraham, the text says that two of the men went on to Sodom (where they are identified as angels), but the one who stayed behind is referred to as YHWH several times. Scripture indicates that the Lord, accompanied by two angels, visited Abraham, and that all three appeared as human beings who ate and drank with Abraham and Sarah. The men went on to Sodom, but the Lord stayed with Abraham.

The one addressed as Lord and referred to as YHWH in the text, announced the promise of the child and declared that he would return in a year. It is with YHWH that Abraham conversed and interceded with on behalf of Sodom. The Lord somehow appeared in human form and spoke and dined with Abraham and Sarah. At the same time, it is assumed that all the while God was still in heaven. According to this text, God is clearly capable of coming to earth in human form for a period of time if he so desires. If he can do this for a few hours in a temporary human form, why couldn’t he adopt a permanent human form and be on earth for a few decades? This is what theologians call the Incarnation, God coming down to earth as a man in the person of his Son. In the words of a rabbi I once met, Jesus was like a “walking Shekhina.”

The idea of God being present to us in the form of his Son clarifies a number of difficult passages in Scripture in which God is seen, yet not seen. Moses and the elders cannot see the unseen God, but they can see God’s Son. When Gideon and Manoa see an angel of the Lord, who is somehow identified with the Lord, they see the Son. There’s no need to conjure up Metatron to account for the one who bears the name of God; it’s the Son. While Jesus never referred to himself as God, he did identify himself as God’s Son,and as the Son, Jesus is the one in whom the fullness of God dwells in bodily form. Far from undermining the Hebrew Scriptures, this claim actually creates possibilities for answering questions which the Targums, the Talmud, and the rabbinic commentators all struggle to answer.

Part of what it means to be the Son of God is to have a relationship with the Father before the world had even come into being. There are references to this characteristic throughout John’s gospel (see 1:30, 8:23, 17:3-5, 16:27-28). This idea of a pre-existent Messiah who would come down from heaven is not foreign to traditional Jewish sources (as I explain elsewhere).

The Messiah is divine inasmuch as he is the Son of God, and he is human since he took on human nature and become a man. As such, he was able to act as the mediator between God and humankind. In order to save and deliver us, he needed to become one of us, but he also needed to be greater than us in order to save us.

The Shekhina is one of the most important rabbinic ways of explaining how the infinite and transcendent God could be present to his people in this world. The rabbis believed that since the destruction of the Temple, the Shekhina has accompanied God’s people in their wanderings across the world, sharing with them in their suffering, and longing to have them reunited in the Holy Land. The rabbis are willing to say that God is experiencing a sort of internal “disunity” until his people are fully restored. When that happens and the people of Israel are gathered together again and have experienced spiritual renewal, then God’s unity will be complete again. There is a similar concept in the New Testament which affirms that the Son went out from the Father to be joined to us and that he will return to earth; on the day that happens, God will be all in all (1 Cor. 15:27-28).

The next time someone tells you that because God cannot be a man, Jesus cannot be God, you can answer with confidence: “Of course, God is not a man. But he can reveal himself in and through a man.” There’s nothing idolatrous about that.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 14-37.

“If you claim that Jesus is God then you are guilty of making God into a man. You are an idol worshiper!“

Is Jesus God or not? This question is paramount since the answer to it contains profound ramifications for how we should live our lives. I can see that looking from the outside, it may seem to you that what Christians claim about Jesus is not all that different from the way Hindus might describe one of their holy men or gurus, claiming him to be the personification of one of their gods, referring to him as a “god-man” and worshipping him in a way that should only be reserved for God himself. Of course, such a view is incompatible with Judaism, but I assure you that this is not what Christians believe about Jesus!

Let me start this discussion with a quote from a very famous Jew: “No one has ever seen God.” Do you know who wrote this? He was known as Yochanan (“John”), and, as a faithful follower of Yeshua, he wrote what is now referred to as the Gospel of John. This phrase can be found right at the beginning of his book, and it is part of an explanation as to how all things came into being by means of the Word. He writes:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. (John 1:1-3)

This passage describes a unique relationship between the Word and God. John says that this Word was not only with God, but also was God, and that all things were made through him by God. Does this idea of creation taking place by means of the word sound familiar to you? It should, since that is how Genesis describes creation as coming into being – everything was created through God’s spoken word: “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Gen. 1:3). Of course, John’s emphasis is slightly different. What is John trying to say about the Word?

Before we answer this question, we first have to ask, Why is God depicted as speaking everything into being, rather than simply doing it? In the first chapter of Genesis, God’s word seems to have its own creative, dynamic force, a power and energy, a tangible release of God’s divine life, an extension of God’s nature, an expression of God’s will. This sense of God’s word having a mission and helping to carry out God’s will is not confined to the creation accounts, but can be found elsewhere in the Hebrew Scriptures (e.g., Ps. 107:20; Isa. 55:10-11; Ps. 147:15-18). God not only communicates with us, but reveals himself by means of his word. Of course, God speaks to us through the written word, but God’s word is more expansive than the written word. In other words, while the written word is the Word of God, it does not exhaust the Word of God.

The rabbis use the Aramaic word memra’ (from the Hebrew and Aramaic root ‘mr, “to say,” which is used throughout the creation account in Gen. 1) to express the concept of the word of God serving as a link between the transcendent God and his creation. There are hundreds of occurrences of memra’ in the Targums (Aramaic translations of the Hebrew Scriptures which were used in synagogues where the people no longer understood Hebrew before, during, and after the time of Jesus). The word memra’ was often added to biblical passages which reference God. For example, while Genesis 3:8 says that Adam and Eve “heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden,” the Targum says, “And they heard the sound of the Word of the Lord God walking in the midst of the garden.”

Another important example can be found in Genesis 28:20-21, in which Jacob says, “If God will be with me and watch over me on this journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father’s house, then the Lord will be my God.” The Targum has Jacob saying, “If the Word of the Lord will be with me . . . then the Word of the Lord will be my God.” Because these translations were used officially in the synagogues, they shaped the way the people heard and understood various passages and had a lasting effect on their religious life. Week in and week out, the people heard about this walking, talking, creating and saving Word, who was Jacob’s God.

If one were to substitute memra’ for “word” in the opening passage from the Gospel of John quoted above, one would easily see just how Jewish the passage sounds. John was a Galilean who wrote in Greek; he therefore used the word logos for “word” since he had grown up hearing the Aramaic Targum with its constant emphasis on the memra’ as an active link between God and human beings.

Philo of Alexandria, the most well-known Jewish philosopher of his day, roughly contemporary with Jesus and John, made great use of the term “logos,” which was understood to be a kind of mediating principle between God and human beings, an aspect or half-personal emanation of God. He even spokeof the logos as “the second god” and explained that human beings were actually created in the image of the logos, since nothing created could directly resemble God himself. Philo also referred to the logos as “firstborn” (protogonon), “archangel,” “Name of God,” and “governor and administrator of all things,” stating that the “Divine Word” (theios logos) is the “chief” of God’s powers (Hurtado, One God, One Lord, 45).

One of the main differences between Philo and John, however, was that John emphasized that the Word was able to live among us as a human being. According to John, God is very near to us through his logos, who became man. The Memra/logos is an extension of the Lord himself—in one sense God and in another sense with God— who came down from heaven to dwell among us. At the same time, God reigns on high and controls the universe, and did not exhaust his presence in the person of Jesus. In short, God is known personally through his Word, who became a human being, but God thereby did not cease to be God in heaven.

This may seem difficult to understand, but so do the Rabbinic concepts of Memra, Shekhina and Sefirot—all of which remind us that God cannot be comprehended by our finite minds.

John 1:14 reads: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling (lit. “pitched his tent”) among us.” There are many connections between this concept and the claim that God dwelt in the Tabernacle and Temple. Solomon built his magnificent structure as a dwelling place for God, though he knew that God could not be confined to that building or any other space on earth, yet God promised to dwell (“pitch his tent”) among his people (Exod. 25:8; 2 Chron. 6:1-2) in the Tabernacle and the Temple. John understands Jesus to be the fulfillment of these promises.

The Talmudic rabbis, Jewish philosophers and medieval mystics all wondered how Almighty God could dwell in our midst. Followers of Jesus answer this question by saying that God came to us through his Word, Yeshua, the Son of God. Just as God could be in his Temple, so he could be in his Son, filling them both with his glory and revealing his glory through both of them. Just as the glory of God filled the Tabernacle and Temple, without in any way emptying, depleting or lessening God, so also his glory fills his Son, without in any way emptying, depleting or lessening him.

John makes a point of saying “no one has ever seen God,” but then tells us that Jesus has made God known to us (John 1:18). Other passages in the New Testament emphasize this point. The fullness of the Father fills Yeshua (Eph. 1:22-23) and he represents God’s being (Heb. 1:2). Jesus told his first followers that if they knew him, they would know his Father also, and that because they had seen and known him, they had seen and known the Father, too, for the Father was living in him and he was living in his Father (John 14:7-11). In other words, whoever has seen the Son has seen the Father.

The Hebrew Scriptures raise the following question: How can a human being see God and live? In Exodus 33:20, God tells Moses, “You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live,” but just a few chapters earlier, Moses, Aaron, Nadab and Abihu and seventy elders had gone up Mt. Sinai where they “saw the God of Israel. . . . God did not raise his hand against these leaders of the Israelites; they saw God, and they ate and drank” (Exod. 24:9-11). How do you explain this apparent contradiction?

Abraham Ibn Ezra calls this encounter a prophetic vision, but this still does not explain why they went up the mountain, why only Moses was allowed to go closer, and why God didn’t respond as expected when they saw him. There seems to be something more going on here than just a vision.

The Targum adds the word “glory” to the text so that instead of seeing God himself, they saw “the glory of the God of Israel.” The Talmud (b. Sanhedrin38b) explains that Moses and the people did not see God himself, but saw Metatron, chief of the angels. In an attempt to preserve God’s glory, the Talmudic interpretation of this passage reads, “Come up to Metatron whose name is YHWH.” Is this any less problematic?

One might counter that Exodus 3 equates seeing an angel with seeing God. Targum Onkelos finds Exodus 3:6 too direct, and instead of the textual “Moses hid his face because he was afraid to look at God,” it prefers the reading, “Moses was afraid to look at the glory of the Shekhina of the Lord.” But this is similar to how the Targum presents Exodus 25:8, which, instead of saying “I [God] will dwell in their midst,” replaces “I” with “my Shekhina.” There does seem to be a blurring of the distinction between God and his angel (messenger) here, as in numerous other biblical passages. Another example of this is Genesis 32:24-30, where Jacob is described as wrestling with an angel, but expresses his surprise at still being alive after having seen God face to face. Is it any surprise that the Targum describes Jacob as seeing an “angel of the Lord,” rather than “God” himself?

Angels are often portrayed as creating links between God and creation, but they can also appear as the personification of [God’s] self-manifestation, as the concrete, visible, embodiment of the glorious God, especially when the passage emphasizes that this is a different kind of angel, one that is particularly identified with God. All of these interpretations of Scripture seek to provide a way of explaining how the Almighty can interact with his creation.

The various rabbinic explanations for “seeing God” can be synthesized into the following formula: “[God] dwells in our midst by his Shekhina, his glorious Presence, and he reveals himself to us through his angel, who bears his name. Seeing him is like seeing God, just not directly.”

That’s a good summary, but it is not in accordance with what the texts themselves say. Unless the angel is somehow more than an angel, what the person is seeing is an angel, not God. None of the angels in the Bible are ever referred to as “the Lord”—unless the messenger in some way really is the Lord. God did not just say that his Shekhina would dwell with the people, he said that he would.

The Bible makes a definite distinction between seeing the glory of God and seeing God himself. Traditional translators problematically substitute “glory” for “God.” Scripture says that it is impossible for people to see God and live. The dilemma is that either the interpretation seemingly has to deviate from what the text says, or people have actually seen God and have lived to tell about it, even though Scripture says that to see God is to die!

The only sufficient answer to this problem of “seeing God” is that it was the Son who was seen by these people. This is how John explains it: “No one has ever seen God; but the only unique Son, who is identical with God and is at the Father’s side—he has made him known” (1:18, JNT). The Messiah is the visible representation of the invisible God, the living manifestation of the glory of the Lord. He alone is distinct from God the Father and simultaneously bears the presence of God within him in a way that is qualitatively different from the way any of the other angels bear God’s presence.

As we continue to think through this problem of “seeing God,” let’s consider the story in Genesis 18, which tells the story of Abraham’s reception of the three visitors. The Hebrew text says that the Lord (YHWH) appeared to Abraham, and Abraham addressed him as “Lord,” yet a few verses later, it says that Abraham looked up and saw three men. Some Christians interpret this as a representation of the Trinity, but that’s problematic in that it allows for a human being to see the Father, which is unbiblical, and it also pictures God as three separate people, which is also completely contrary to the biblical understanding of God. Only one of the three visitors is addressed as Lord (‘adônay), though traditional translators translate this as ‘adônî or “my lord.”

According to the Talmud, the three visitors are the angels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. One of the problems with this view is that the text does not say that these angels replaced or represented the Lord. After their visit to Abraham, the text says that two of the men went on to Sodom (where they are identified as angels), but the one who stayed behind is referred to as YHWH several times. Scripture indicates that the Lord, accompanied by two angels, visited Abraham, and that all three appeared as human beings who ate and drank with Abraham and Sarah. The men went on to Sodom, but the Lord stayed with Abraham.

The one addressed as Lord and referred to as YHWH in the text, announced the promise of the child and declared that he would return in a year. It is with YHWH that Abraham conversed and interceded with on behalf of Sodom. The Lord somehow appeared in human form and spoke and dined with Abraham and Sarah. At the same time, it is assumed that all the while God was still in heaven. According to this text, God is clearly capable of coming to earth in human form for a period of time if he so desires. If he can do this for a few hours in a temporary human form, why couldn’t he adopt a permanent human form and be on earth for a few decades? This is what theologians call the Incarnation, God coming down to earth as a man in the person of his Son. In the words of a rabbi I once met, Jesus was like a “walking Shekhina.”

The idea of God being present to us in the form of his Son clarifies a number of difficult passages in Scripture in which God is seen, yet not seen. Moses and the elders cannot see the unseen God, but they can see God’s Son. When Gideon and Manoa see an angel of the Lord, who is somehow identified with the Lord, they see the Son. There’s no need to conjure up Metatron to account for the one who bears the name of God; it’s the Son. While Jesus never referred to himself as God, he did identify himself as God’s Son,and as the Son, Jesus is the one in whom the fullness of God dwells in bodily form. Far from undermining the Hebrew Scriptures, this claim actually creates possibilities for answering questions which the Targums, the Talmud, and the rabbinic commentators all struggle to answer.

Part of what it means to be the Son of God is to have a relationship with the Father before the world had even come into being. There are references to this characteristic throughout John’s gospel (see 1:30, 8:23, 17:3-5, 16:27-28). This idea of a pre-existent Messiah who would come down from heaven is not foreign to traditional Jewish sources (as I explain elsewhere).

The Messiah is divine inasmuch as he is the Son of God, and he is human since he took on human nature and become a man. As such, he was able to act as the mediator between God and humankind. In order to save and deliver us, he needed to become one of us, but he also needed to be greater than us in order to save us.

The Shekhina is one of the most important rabbinic ways of explaining how the infinite and transcendent God could be present to his people in this world. The rabbis believed that since the destruction of the Temple, the Shekhina has accompanied God’s people in their wanderings across the world, sharing with them in their suffering, and longing to have them reunited in the Holy Land. The rabbis are willing to say that God is experiencing a sort of internal “disunity” until his people are fully restored. When that happens and the people of Israel are gathered together again and have experienced spiritual renewal, then God’s unity will be complete again. There is a similar concept in the New Testament which affirms that the Son went out from the Father to be joined to us and that he will return to earth; on the day that happens, God will be all in all (1 Cor. 15:27-28).

The next time someone tells you that because God cannot be a man, Jesus cannot be God, you can answer with confidence: “Of course, God is not a man. But he can reveal himself in and through a man.” There’s nothing idolatrous about that.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 14-37.

Rather than rehearse again the arguments about the Trinity (see above), I want to focus on a single question: Is the Holy Spirit just an abstract power, or is there some way in which the Spirit is also a “who”? In other words, do the Hebrew Scriptures depict the Spirit as having personality?

The Hebrew word ruah (Greek pneuma) can mean “breath” or “wind,” as well as “spirit.” “Spirit” is used in the Scriptures to denote personal demonic beings, angelic beings, and inner attitudes, emotions, or will in human beings. The Scriptures also claim that just as there is a human spirit, there is a divine Spirit.

The Scriptures certainly do speak about the divine Spirit in terms of “what”— something that people can be “filled with” or something that can be “poured out”—but there are other places in which the Spirit is understood to be the means by which God personally interacts with human beings. The Scriptures speak of the Spirit instructing, grieving, and being rebelled against; in other words, the Spirit also has personality, and is not just a power.The psalmist says that “God dwells among us by means of his Spirit” (Ps. 139:7). This raises the question of how God can be enthroned in heaven, but also intimately involved with human beings here on earth.

When the Scriptures refer to the “Spirit of God” do they mean the same thing as when they refer to “God”? I would say, yes and no. This Spirit, who can be grieved or angered and can instruct, must have personality; however, the Scriptures speak of the Spirit of God—i.e., God’s very Spirit, not a separate being. The Holy Spirit accompanied the people of Israel during their wilderness wanderings, manifesting himself in the cloud by day and the fire by night. In fact, there are more references to the Spirit in relation to the exodus than anywhere else in the Hebrew Scriptures—the Spirit of the Lord was clearly very close to his people during that time.

Another thing associated with the Holy Spirit is God’s speech: “The Spirit of the Lord spoke through me; his word was on my tongue” (2 Sam. 23:2). The Spirit puts plans for the Temple into David’s mind (1 Chron. 28:11-12) and the Spirit of the Lord comes upon Ezekiel, telling him what to say (Ezek. 11:5). These acts of speaking certainly indicate that the Spirit should be understood as a someone, rather than simply something. Rabbinic literature also has a number of instances in which the Spirit is depicted as speaking, announcing, crying out, rebuking and even serving as counsel for the defense (e.g., Talmud m. Sotah 9:6; b. Sotah 46a; b. Pesahim 117a; Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer 31; Yalkut Reubeni 9d to Gen. 1:26; Lam. Rab. 3:60 9; Lev. Rab. 6:1). In all these citations, which can be easily multiplied, there can be no question that we are dealing with a “who,” not just with a “what,” with a personal dimension of God, not an impersonal power, with God himself, and yet with a “separate” entity who can mediate between God and human beings.

Similarly, in the New Testament, the Holy Spirit is depicted as empowering, anointing, filling, and leading his people. The Holy Spirit is given to the disciples and speaks through them, just as the Spirit spoke through the prophets. The Holy Spirit is poured out, just as Joel promised, and through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the Spirit now lives within God’s holy people, fulfilling the words of the prophets of old. Just as the Hebrew Bible teaches that whatever is done to the Spirit of the Lord is done to the Lord himself, so it is in the New Testament:Paul urges people not to grieve the Spirit (Eph. 4:30) and Jesus warns against blaspheming the Holy Spirit (Mark 3:28-29).

The word “Messiah” means simply “anointed one.” Jesus had a special anointing by the Holy Spirit, and his followers would also be similarly anointed, gifted with special qualities and supernatural abilities (see 1 Cor. 12:7-11; Gal. 5:22-23). Just as Ezekiel prophesied (see 36 and 37), God has given new life by placing his Spirit in us, which helps us remain faithful to God’s ways and enables us to truly experience the joy of the Lord. There is much more talk about the Holy Spirit in the New Testament than in the Hebrew Scriptures since the Messiah has inaugurated the first stage of the Messianic age, a period of special activity on the part of the Spirit which fulfils the prophecies and promises spoken through Moses and Joel and Ezekiel (Num. 11:29b; Lev. 26:12; Ezek. 37:27; Joel 2:28-29; 2 Cor. 6:16b-18).

I think the most important question to be asked about the Holy Spirit is not whether it should be described as the Third Person of the Trinity (a reference not found in the New Testament), but whether the New Testament portrayal of the Spirit is in harmony with that of the Hebrew Scriptures and has common ground with later Jewish traditions. The evidence is very compelling: in the New Testament the Spirit is as much a “who” as a “what,” which reflects the depiction of the Spirit in the Hebrew Bible. There is no good reason why any religious Jew should have a problem with what the New Testament says about the Spirit.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 52-59.

“According to Isaiah 43:11, God alone is our Savior. We don’t need or recognize any other saviors.”

If you check your Hebrew concordance, you’ll see that the word môshi’a (savior) can be found more than thirty times in the Bible, and almost every one of those references is to someone other than God (e.g., Moses, judges, kings). Yes, God alone saves us; however, he saves us through others. Both traditional Judaism and the New Testament acknowledge that God has promised that the Messiah would be the ultimate Savior. This is why the Amidah (or ShemonehEsreh), a prayer asking God to save his people through the Davidic Messiah, continues to be recited.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 59-60.

“We are righteous by what we do, not by what we believe. Christianity is the religion of the creed, Judaism the religion of the deed.”

I think you’ll find that trying to separate faith and works as neatly as you suggest is an impossibility—they are totally interrelated, in both the Hebrew Scriptures and in the New Testament. Why would anyone want to keep the commandments if he didn’t already trust in the God who gave them? Conversely, who would want to cease living a godly life once he had known for himself the goodness of God?

Paul was very careful to explain that we are incapable of establishing our own righteousness and bringing about our salvation through our own good works, and yet he still emphasized the need to do good. In fact, he insisted that it is only because of faith—trust and dependence upon God’s mercy—that we are able to show love for others through acts of service (Eph. 2:8-10; Titus 3:4-10). It is when we look upon God’s goodness that we are able to be good ourselves. When we place our trust in him, he can begin to transform our lives, guiding us along his way, helping us to live as his children according to his commandments. Our faith is demonstrated in what we do.

Paul is not advocating a new teaching, but is merely emphasizing patterns found in the Hebrew Scriptures. Take Abraham for example; Genesis 15:6 explains that it was because he believed that God would keep his promises that God consideredhim righteous. Our relationship with God begins by faith, and every righteous person in the Bible has been a believer first and a doer second.

Before God gave the Ten Commandments to the people of Israel, he delivered them from Egypt, helping them to see that he was the only true God, the one who could be completely trusted. Before the Ten Commandments start emphasizing “doing,” they command “believing” by describing the God who expects and is worthy of full obedience.

Some might think that Deuteronomy 6:25 is all about doing, but if you take a close, careful look, you’ll see that before any commandments are issued, there is a rehearsal of all the great and wonderful things God has done. Before parents tell their children what they are to do to please God, their children need to know that they can trust God and that the God whom they are to obey is worthy of their ultimate allegiance. In other words, the God of the Law is prior to the Law of God.

A very important part of the Law of God was the sacrificial system for establishing atonement. Can you imagine an Israelite assuming he could ignore the sacrificial rites or Day of Atonement and still be considered righteous? No, the Torah includes both a means for forgiveness and instructions for how to live righteously. Forgiveness and the re-establishment of one’s relationship with God make possible a life of good deeds.

It was unbelief that led to Israel’s disobedience, which in turn led to judgment and disaster. In the wilderness, the people failed to trust God and Moses, which is why they created the golden calf. Because the people failed to trust that God would bring them into the Promised Land, a whole generation had to die before the people were allowed to enter. Even Moses was refused entrance into the land because of his failure to completely rely on God. The intrinsic relationship between faith and deeds cannot be stressed enough.

The New Covenant acknowledges our inability to keep the Law and our constant failure to live righteously before God.  It proclaims the good news that the Messiah has come to put things right between us and God by paying for our sins, taking away our guilt, and cleansing us, so that we can once again do the will of God. Christianity is known as a religion of good works because these works are rooted in a renewed faith in God through Jesus the Messiah.

Much discussion has centered on Habakkuk 2:4, which raises the question of the number of commandments God gave the Jewish people (see Makkot 23b-24a). From 613, the number is eventually reduced to Habakkuk’s one: “And the righteous will live by faith”; Rav Nachman bar Yitzhaq maintains that this summarizes all the commandments. The context for this passage from Habakkuk emphasizes the need for the people to maintain their faith in God, even in the midst of judgment. While they were waiting to be rescued from their time of exile, they were to continue to trust that God could be relied upon to keep his promises to bring about justice. Faith, righteousness and obedience to the Torah go hand in hand!

The creed leads to the deed, and it is the combination of faith and works that produces a life that pleases God. Of course, there are times when Christianity stresses correct belief so much that little emphasis is placed on living it out, and there are times when Judaism is so intent on the commandments that it neglects to foster a living faith in God, but these attitudes are to be avoided and the biblical visionof the interrelationship between faith and works adopted.

One more point: It is not only Christianity, but also Judaism that has placed an emphasis on creed. There have been Jewish martyrs who have died because they refused to deny the Shema. Furthermore, Jews have been reciting Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles on a daily basis for centuries. Of course, Judaism has always recognized the importance of grace and mercy; it is not merely a religion of works. We would be nothing as a people were it not for God’s great mercy. It is in light of that grace that God calls us to obedience. Christianity and Judaism are religions of grace and good works, faith and law. Given our track record as a people, we should put our hope in the grace of God, rather than depending on our own effort, no matter how righteously we may be living. I strongly recommend that you trust the Messiah first as your Savior and Deliverer, and then, by his help and grace, seek to live a life that pleases the Lord.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 60-69.

“The Scriptures clearly tells us that, “To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice”(Prov. 21:3).”

You’re using this text to argue that the followers of Jesus are wrong to place so much emphasis on the atoning sacrifice of Jesus since you believe it makes them assume that their belief in his death gets them off the hook from having to live a moral life. First, let me assure you that far from thinking we no longer have to worry about the kind of life we lead, Jesus’ atoning sacrifice has motivated his followers to be even more dedicated to doing what is right and just and holy (as I’ve explained in 3.7).

Secondly, the passage you quote is not denigrating the importance of sacrifices and offerings, but is trying to root out hypocrisy in those who think that participation in religious rituals and ceremonies will save them from their lack of morality (see 3.9). There are many other places in the Scriptures in which God his anger toward those who believe with their lips, but not with their hearts (see e.g., Isa. 29:13; Prov. 15:8; 21:27). This passage from Proverbs is not trying to deny the proper place of sacrifice in the religious life. The main point is that God desires us to live righteously; he doesn’t want us to lie, cheat, steal, hate, lust, and then offer sacrifices afterward. He prefers obedience!

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 69-71.

“The prophets indicated clearly that God did not care for blood sacrifices. In fact, they practically repudiated the whole sacrificial system, teaching that repentance and prayer were sufficient. The Talmudic rabbis simply affirmed this biblical truth.“

Not only do the prophets and psalmists have strong statements regarding sacrifices and offerings, but they occasionally condemn particular prayers and Sabbath observations; now, do you really think that they were saying that God didn’t want any of these things to continue? Clearly not! Let’s find out why the prophets said what they did.

The main point of the prophets and psalmists was that God wanted the hearts of his people to be thoroughly dedicated to living for him; he didn’t want his people simply to go through the motions of carrying out his laws. The sacrifices, feasts, Sabbaths, holy days, and prayers were worthless unless they were accompanied by genuine devotion, justice, mercy, repentance, and contrition. The prophets and psalmists were trying to root out hypocrisy so that God’s people would glorify God by living holy and righteous lives. By quoting Hosea 6:6, “For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgement of God rather than burnt offerings” (see Matt. 9:13; 12:7), Yeshua indicates that he has the same mission as the prophets.

Because sacrifices were very powerful and meaningful rituals, the prophets had to remind the people that the act of sacrificing was not effective unless it was accompanied by repentance and devotion to God. Of course the prophets believed that God can be pleased with prayer and worship, but they never taught that those are meant to be replacements for the sacrificial system. All the sacrifices in the world would not make up for the disobedience of his people. Even Yeshua insisted that his own sacrificial life would have no life-changing value unless it engendered repentance and faith.

In their attempts to distance themselves from Messianic Jews and their emphasis on the sacrificial, atoning death of Yeshua, traditional Jews have tended to downplay the centrality of blood atonement in the religious life of the people of Israel, but it’s very difficult to deny that the system of sacrifices and offerings was of utmost importance to them. There are many places in the Torah where sacrifices and offerings are described as a “pleasing aroma” to God, a phrase which is mean to indicate that God was happy with sacrifices that were presented by genuinely devoted people. Recall that the Israelites were brought out of Egypt so that they could offer sacrifices to God. The overwhelming number of verses in the Torah dedicated to sacrifices and offerings indicates their importance. More frequently than any other ritual or law in the Torah, sacrifices are described as “lasting ordinances” established “for the generations to come.” Does this sound as though they were meant to be replaced? This is why Messianic Jews place such emphasis on the fact that Yeshua fulfilled the requirements of the sacrificial system by laying down his life on our behalf. It is unthinkable to us—based on the Torah—that the sacrificial system would simply be discarded and replaced by prayer.

Yes, Hosea, Amos, Isaiah and Jeremiah all have some very strong statements that make it seem as though they were rejecting the sacrificial system, but if this were really the case, why did Haggai and Zechariah encourage the people to rebuild the Temple? They were completely dedicated to re-establishing sacrificial worship. Even Zechariah and Malachi, who lived during the days of the Second Temple, emphasized the importance of Temple sacrifices.

It is common for anti-missionaries to argue that the sacrificial system is adequately replaced by prayer (as long as those who pray are penitent and contrite), but is this argument really biblical? Let’s consider this question by taking a look at what the various prophets and psalmists taught.

Micah’s prophecies were delivered while the Temple was in full operation, with sacrifices offered in accordance to the divine stipulations laid down in the Torah, so he didn’t have to worry about how worship of God could continue when there was no Temple. It’s hard to imagine that Micah would have tried to convince the people that everything God had said in the Torah was meaningless and should be ignored, and that he would try to halt the whole sacrificial system then and there. If he had, there would have been a good case to brand him a false prophet, just as the anti-missionaries declare Jesus to be, because he allegedly ignored and violated the Torah and encouraged others to do the same. Far from being labeled a false prophet, Micah was respected for faithfully communicating God’s word.

Micah was trying to get a sinful people to see that their priorities were out of order; they were putting too much of their energy into outward displays of devotion without concerning themselves with how to actually live out their devotion to God through acts of justice, mercy and humility. Similarly, Yeshua confronted the religious leaders because of their hypocrisy since although they were meticulous with their tithing, they completely ignored justice and mercy (see Matt. 23:23). Paul, too, had to address the priorities of those who emphasized spiritual gifts, but neglected love. If we do not love, Paul declared, all our acts are only outward displays with no substance (see 1 Cor. 13). God is looking for certain qualities to accompany our outward acts, and if these qualities are missing, our acts do not impress him one bit!

The prophets often use hyperbole, sarcasm, and “either-or” language in their messages, which can sometimes lead to misunderstandings; however, if their messages are interpreted in light of the Torah, then it becomes easier to understand their meaning. Essentially, the prophets called the people to obedience so that their motivations and actions would be pure; they were not trying to undermine what God had been telling his people from the beginning.

Isaiah’s prophetic style was similar to that of his contemporary Micah, which communicated God’s anger at his people’s hypocrisy. Isaiah not only expresses God’s displeasure at the people’s sacrifices, but also with their holy days, Sabbaths, assemblies, and prayers. God wants his people to “stop doing wrong and to learn to do right” (Isa. 1:20-17). God does not want them to give those things up entirely; he wants them to do them, but to do them with clean hands and hearts. Jeremiah expresses the same kind of disgust in relation to the people’s worship, informing the people that God will not listen to them any longer, even though they make offerings and cry to him in their prayers (Jer. 14:12). Amos shows no mercy when he rebukes the people for their sinful practices regarding their feasts and assemblies, sacrifices and offerings, and music and songs, telling them in no uncertain terms that God finds them meaningless because of their failure to live justly (Amos 5: 21-24).

Psalm 51 is often interpreted as King David’s heartfelt confession of repentance after committing adultery with Bathsheba and arranging for the death of Uriah. In this prayer, David acknowledges God’s preference for repentance over sacrifices offered without a change of heart: “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Ps. 51:16-17[18-19]). Immediately after this, David indicates that there will come a day when God will be pleased again with the sacrifices of his people. Similarly, the author of Psalm 40 realizes that the sacrificial system is based on a deeper kind of sacrifice—the giving of one’s entire life to God. He doesn’t advocate getting rid of the sacrifices; rather he stresses the need for utter devotion to God to accompany them, since this is what makes the whole system pleasing to God. This recognition is echoed in Paul’s letter to the Romans where he exhorts the followers of Jesus to “offer [their] bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship” (Rom. 12:1). Even things as precious as prayer, sacrifices, worship, fasting, and observance of the Sabbaths and Holy Days are utterly distasteful to the Lord when performed with a sinful, hypocritical heart.

God warned the people of Israel that their sacrifices were liable to displease him if they did not remain obedient to him. The acceptability of the sacrifices is described in terms of delight and a “pleasing aroma” (Num. 28:4-6; Lev. 26:31). God wanted the people to express their devotion to him by means of sacrifices and offerings,but their sin rendered these brituals repugnant to God. Yeshua affirmed these convictions, quoting from Isaiah when he confronted the hypocrisy of the sinful leaders of his day: “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you: ‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men'” (Matt. 15: 7-9, quoting Isa. 29:13). Like God, Yeshua had no patience for hypocrisy.

Sometimes traditional Jews will cite Amos (5:25-27) or Jeremiah (7:21-23) to argue that because Israel never offered any sacrifices during their forty years in the wilderness, they must not be absolutely essential to their relationship with God. Some even use these passages to claim that God never intended for the sacrificial system to be set up in the first place—all he really wanted was their obedience. Although Jeremiah’s statement about the lack of sacrifices in the wilderness can be interpreted in a number of ways, it is simply not true that the Israelites knew nothing about divinely ordained sacrifices before the institution of the Temple sacrificial system. The Passover lamb was a sacrifice (Exod. 12), and immediately after the Ten Commandments were given, instructions for sacrifices were presented (Exod. 20-24). Sacrifices and offerings were part of God’s laws to Israel immediately before and after the exodus from Egypt. The only way that Jeremiah can be interpreted as supporting the elimination of the Temple cult is by totally neglecting other passages in which sacrifices and offerings are understood to be part of the blessing of the restored and obedient Jerusalem (see Jer. 17: 24-26; Jer. 33:10-11, 17-18).

There are rabbis who recognize that the prophets were not trying to abolish the Temple cult, but were simply struggling to get the disobedient people back on the right track with God so that their interior spiritual lives and their outward religious displays would be in harmony. It was no use offering sacrifices if they did not practice justice, mercy and faithfulness in their daily lives. According to Abraham Heschel, “The prophets disparaged the cult when it became a substitute for righteousness” (Heschel, The Prophets, 1:196-197). Chief Rabbi J. H. Hertz explains,”The Prophet’s call is not, Give up your sacrifices, but, Give up your evil-doing” (Hertz, The Pentateuch and Haftorahs, 561). The prophets sought to counteract the misunderstanding and misuse of the sacrificial system, not its rightful use.

There are several passages that appear to suggest that prayer has replaced sacrifices and offerings (i.e., Ps. 141:2; Hosea 3:4-5, 14:2-3; 2 Chron. 7, 1 Kings 8); however, if they are read carefully in context, it becomes clear that this is not what they mean. Psalm 141 is ascribed to David, who insisted that a Temple be built to replace the Tabernacle, and who offered sacrifices as instructed by the Lord. His cry for God to accept his prayers in the same way that God accepted sacrifices is not an attempt to replace one with the other. Not only was the first Temple constructed by David’s son, but a second Temple was built after the people had returned from exile. These are not indications that the sacrificial system was on its way out.

Did Hosea prophesy that before the Messiah would arrive, Israel would be instructed to replace sacrifices with prayer? His message could be interpreted in the same way as Psalm 114, in which the effectiveness of prayers is compared with that of sacrifices, but prayers in no way replace sacrifices and offerings. There are different opinions regarding the translation of Hosea 14:2, such as whether it actually refers to “bulls” (parîm) or “fruit” (perî), but even if the word is bulls, it still has nothing to do with sacrifices, but rather with making and keeping vows. In other words, the passage could read: “We will pay the vows of our lips to God,” as opposed to, “We will replace animal sacrifices with the offerings of our lips.” Do you really think God would hang the future of the sacrificial system on one ambiguous verse? This particular passage seems to be referring to the age after the return from exile; it is not trying to describe how the people should worship when they are separated from their Temple because of their exile.

What about the final two passages (2 Chron. 6 and 1 Kings 8), which record the prayer of Solomon? Do they lend credence to the argument that God intended prayer to replace sacrifices and offerings when the people of Israel are in exile? Is it accurate to use these passages to argue that God has no need for sacrifices of any kind in order to forgive his people when they repent and ask for mercy?

These passages in no way imply that sacrifices are to be replaced with prayer. Solomon’s prayer is part of the dedication of the Temple, and it makes clear that God chose the Temple as the place where he would accept the people’s sacrifices and hear his people’s prayers; however, it also warns that if the people are disobedient, their sins would lead to the Temple’s destruction and God’s promises to hear their prayers will be nullified. The Temple was an integral part of Israel’s worship and its destruction was taken as a sign of God’s judgment. Unless the Messiah has come and fulfilled the purpose of the sacrifices and offerings, the absence of the Temple means that the people have no means of atonement.

Every day, traditional Jews ask God to hasten the day of the Temple’s restoration. The two most prominent petitions are the following:

Be favorable, O LORD our God, toward Your people Israel and toward their prayer, and restore the service to the Holy of Holies of Your Temple. The fire-offerings of Israel and their prayer accept with love and favor, and may the service of Your people Israel always be favorable to You.

May it be Your will, O LORD our God, and the God of our forefathers, that You have mercy on us and pardon us for all our errors, atone for us all our iniquities, forgive all our willful sins; and that You rebuild the Holy Temple speedily, in our days, so that we may offer to You the continual offering that it may atone for us, as You have prescribed for us in Your Torah through Moses, Your servant, from Your glorious mouth, as it is said: [Num. 28:1-8 then follows].

These prayers would be utterly meaningless if prayer has adequately replaced sacrifices and offerings. The fact that the rabbis included these petitions is a strong indication that they longed for the day when sacrifices would be restored and there would be joy in the presence of the Lord once more.

The Temple was destroyed because of the sinfulness of our people. God was so grieved by our people’s sins that he finally said,”Enough! No amount of prayer, sacrifice, or fasting will stop me. I will reject my city and my sanctuary, and I will judge my people and banish them from my presence.” How can one imagine the very opposite, i.e. that because we can no longer offer sacrifices, God will be pleased by our prayers instead?

How frightening the destruction of the Temple must have been for our people, especially when they knew that the door had been shut on national atonement. There are traditions that say that for forty years before the destruction of the Second Temple, God did not accept the sacrifices that were offered on behalf of the people on the Day of Atonement (see b. Yoma 39b), but at least there would have been some hope while the Temple was still standing. After its destruction, there was nothing but grasping at straws such as hoping that prayer would be accepted in place of sacrifice—a wish without guarantees or assurance.

The petition for God to heed the prayers in place of sacrifice continues today, remarkably sandwiched between an admission of sin as the cause of the destruction of the Temple and a list of details for the offering of animal sacrifices at the altar! Clearly the Temple’s destruction indicates that something is missing in Israel’s relationship with God.

Maybe you’ve experienced this conundrum, too. Maybe as you’ve prayed the various prayers, you’ve sensed that something is spiritually disjointed, but you don’t know what the problem is. Maybe you’re sensing the fact that you have no acceptable form of atonement for your sins and that all the prayers in the world cannot take the place of blood atonement.These daily prayers are recited by a people that is still scattered around the world, a people that—even with a homeland—still has no Temple, a people that still awaits some hint that the Messiah will come, though he was expected so many centuries ago.

Spend some time thinking about this concept of blood atonement and how the death of Yeshua meets those requirements. In subsequent sections, I will elaborate on these topics. As I draw this section to a close, let me say it yet one more time: There is not a single verse in the entire Hebrew Bible which states that the prophets repudiated the sacrificial system or that prayer has replaced sacrifice.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 71-103.

“The prophets indicated clearly that God did not care for blood sacrifices. In fact, they practically repudiated the whole sacrificial system, teaching that repentance and prayer were sufficient. The Talmudic rabbis simply affirmed this biblical truth.”

Not only do the prophets and psalmists have strong statements regarding sacrifices and offerings, but they occasionally condemn particular prayers and Sabbath observations; now, do you really think that they were saying that God didn’t want any of these things to continue? Clearly not! Let’s find out why the prophets said what they did.

The main point of the prophets and psalmists was that God wanted the hearts of his people to be thoroughly dedicated to living for him; he didn’t want his people simply to go through the motions of carrying out his laws. The sacrifices, feasts, Sabbaths, holy days, and prayers were worthless unless they were accompanied by genuine devotion, justice, mercy, repentance, and contrition. The prophets and psalmists were trying to root out hypocrisy so that God’s people would glorify God by living holy and righteous lives. By quoting Hosea 6:6, “For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgement of God rather than burnt offerings” (see Matt. 9:13; 12:7), Yeshua indicates that he has the same mission as the prophets.

Because sacrifices were very powerful and meaningful rituals, the prophets had to remind the people that the act of sacrificing was not effective unless it was accompanied by repentance and devotion to God. Of course the prophets believed that God can be pleased with prayer and worship, but they never taught that those are meant to be replacements for the sacrificial system. All the sacrifices in the world would not make up for the disobedience of his people. Even Yeshua insisted that his own sacrificial life would have no life-changing value unless it engendered repentance and faith.

In their attempts to distance themselves from Messianic Jews and their emphasis on the sacrificial, atoning death of Yeshua, traditional Jews have tended to downplay the centrality of blood atonement in the religious life of the people of Israel, but it’s very difficult to deny that the system of sacrifices and offerings was of utmost importance to them. There are many places in the Torah where sacrifices and offerings are described as a “pleasing aroma” to God, a phrase which is mean to indicate that God was happy with sacrifices that were presented by genuinely devoted people. Recall that the Israelites were brought out of Egypt so that they could offer sacrifices to God. The overwhelming number of verses in the Torah dedicated to sacrifices and offerings indicates their importance. More frequently than any other ritual or law in the Torah, sacrifices are described as “lasting ordinances” established “for the generations to come.” Does this sound as though they were meant to be replaced? This is why Messianic Jews place such emphasis on the fact that Yeshua fulfilled the requirements of the sacrificial system by laying down his life on our behalf. It is unthinkable to us—based on the Torah—that the sacrificial system would simply be discarded and replaced by prayer.

Yes, Hosea, Amos, Isaiah and Jeremiah all have some very strong statements that make it seem as though they were rejecting the sacrificial system, but if this were really the case, why did Haggai and Zechariah encourage the people to rebuild the Temple? They were completely dedicated to re-establishing sacrificial worship. Even Zechariah and Malachi, who lived during the days of the Second Temple, emphasized the importance of Temple sacrifices.

It is common for anti-missionaries to argue that the sacrificial system is adequately replaced by prayer (as long as those who pray are penitent and contrite), but is this argument really biblical? Let’s consider this question by taking a look at what the various prophets and psalmists taught.

Micah’s prophecies were delivered while the Temple was in full operation, with sacrifices offered in accordance to the divine stipulations laid down in the Torah, so he didn’t have to worry about how worship of God could continue when there was no Temple. It’s hard to imagine that Micah would have tried to convince the people that everything God had said in the Torah was meaningless and should be ignored, and that he would try to halt the whole sacrificial system then and there. If he had, there would have been a good case to brand him a false prophet, just as the anti-missionaries declare Jesus to be, because he allegedly ignored and violated the Torah and encouraged others to do the same. Far from being labeled a false prophet, Micah was respected for faithfully communicating God’s word.

Micah was trying to get a sinful people to see that their priorities were out of order; they were putting too much of their energy into outward displays of devotion without concerning themselves with how to actually live out their devotion to God through acts of justice, mercy and humility. Similarly, Yeshua confronted the religious leaders because of their hypocrisy since although they were meticulous with their tithing, they completely ignored justice and mercy (see Matt. 23:23). Paul, too, had to address the priorities of those who emphasized spiritual gifts, but neglected love. If we do not love, Paul declared, all our acts are only outward displays with no substance (see 1 Cor. 13). God is looking for certain qualities to accompany our outward acts, and if these qualities are missing, our acts do not impress him one bit!

The prophets often use hyperbole, sarcasm, and “either-or” language in their messages, which can sometimes lead to misunderstandings; however, if their messages are interpreted in light of the Torah, then it becomes easier to understand their meaning. Essentially, the prophets called the people to obedience so that their motivations and actions would be pure; they were not trying to undermine what God had been telling his people from the beginning.

Isaiah’s prophetic style was similar to that of his contemporary Micah, which communicated God’s anger at his people’s hypocrisy. Isaiah not only expresses God’s displeasure at the people’s sacrifices, but also with their holy days, Sabbaths, assemblies, and prayers. God wants his people to “stop doing wrong and to learn to do right” (Isa. 1:20-17). God does not want them to give those things up entirely; he wants them to do them, but to do them with clean hands and hearts. Jeremiah expresses the same kind of disgust in relation to the people’s worship, informing the people that God will not listen to them any longer, even though they make offerings and cry to him in their prayers (Jer. 14:12). Amos shows no mercy when he rebukes the people for their sinful practices regarding their feasts and assemblies, sacrifices and offerings, and music and songs, telling them in no uncertain terms that God finds them meaningless because of their failure to live justly (Amos 5: 21-24).

Psalm 51 is often interpreted as King David’s heartfelt confession of repentance after committing adultery with Bathsheba and arranging for the death of Uriah. In this prayer, David acknowledges God’s preference for repentance over sacrifices offered without a change of heart: “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Ps. 51:16-17[18-19]). Immediately after this, David indicates that there will come a day when God will be pleased again with the sacrifices of his people. Similarly, the author of Psalm 40 realizes that the sacrificial system is based on a deeper kind of sacrifice—the giving of one’s entire life to God. He doesn’t advocate getting rid of the sacrifices; rather he stresses the need for utter devotion to God to accompany them, since this is what makes the whole system pleasing to God. This recognition is echoed in Paul’s letter to the Romans where he exhorts the followers of Jesus to “offer [their] bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship” (Rom. 12:1). Even things as precious as prayer, sacrifices, worship, fasting, and observance of the Sabbaths and Holy Days are utterly distasteful to the Lord when performed with a sinful, hypocritical heart.

God warned the people of Israel that their sacrifices were liable to displease him if they did not remain obedient to him. The acceptability of the sacrifices is described in terms of delight and a “pleasing aroma” (Num. 28:4-6; Lev. 26:31). God wanted the people to express their devotion to him by means of sacrifices and offerings,but their sin rendered these brituals repugnant to God. Yeshua affirmed these convictions, quoting from Isaiah when he confronted the hypocrisy of the sinful leaders of his day: “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you: ‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men'” (Matt. 15: 7-9, quoting Isa. 29:13). Like God, Yeshua had no patience for hypocrisy.

Sometimes traditional Jews will cite Amos (5:25-27) or Jeremiah (7:21-23) to argue that because Israel never offered any sacrifices during their forty years in the wilderness, they must not be absolutely essential to their relationship with God. Some even use these passages to claim that God never intended for the sacrificial system to be set up in the first place—all he really wanted was their obedience. Although Jeremiah’s statement about the lack of sacrifices in the wilderness can be interpreted in a number of ways, it is simply not true that the Israelites knew nothing about divinely ordained sacrifices before the institution of the Temple sacrificial system. The Passover lamb was a sacrifice (Exod. 12), and immediately after the Ten Commandments were given, instructions for sacrifices were presented (Exod. 20-24). Sacrifices and offerings were part of God’s laws to Israel immediately before and after the exodus from Egypt. The only way that Jeremiah can be interpreted as supporting the elimination of the Temple cult is by totally neglecting other passages in which sacrifices and offerings are understood to be part of the blessing of the restored and obedient Jerusalem (see Jer. 17: 24-26; Jer. 33:10-11, 17-18).

There are rabbis who recognize that the prophets were not trying to abolish the Temple cult, but were simply struggling to get the disobedient people back on the right track with God so that their interior spiritual lives and their outward religious displays would be in harmony. It was no use offering sacrifices if they did not practice justice, mercy and faithfulness in their daily lives. According to Abraham Heschel, “The prophets disparaged the cult when it became a substitute for righteousness” (Heschel, The Prophets, 1:196-197). Chief Rabbi J. H. Hertz explains,”The Prophet’s call is not, Give up your sacrifices, but, Give up your evil-doing” (Hertz, The Pentateuch and Haftorahs, 561). The prophets sought to counteract the misunderstanding and misuse of the sacrificial system, not its rightful use.

There are several passages that appear to suggest that prayer has replaced sacrifices and offerings (i.e., Ps. 141:2; Hosea 3:4-5, 14:2-3; 2 Chron. 7, 1 Kings 8); however, if they are read carefully in context, it becomes clear that this is not what they mean. Psalm 141 is ascribed to David, who insisted that a Temple be built to replace the Tabernacle, and who offered sacrifices as instructed by the Lord. His cry for God to accept his prayers in the same way that God accepted sacrifices is not an attempt to replace one with the other. Not only was the first Temple constructed by David’s son, but a second Temple was built after the people had returned from exile. These are not indications that the sacrificial system was on its way out.

Did Hosea prophesy that before the Messiah would arrive, Israel would be instructed to replace sacrifices with prayer? His message could be interpreted in the same way as Psalm 114, in which the effectiveness of prayers is compared with that of sacrifices, but prayers in no way replace sacrifices and offerings. There are different opinions regarding the translation of Hosea 14:2, such as whether it actually refers to “bulls” (parîm) or “fruit” (perî), but even if the word is bulls, it still has nothing to do with sacrifices, but rather with making and keeping vows. In other words, the passage could read: “We will pay the vows of our lips to God,” as opposed to, “We will replace animal sacrifices with the offerings of our lips.” Do you really think God would hang the future of the sacrificial system on one ambiguous verse? This particular passage seems to be referring to the age after the return from exile; it is not trying to describe how the people should worship when they are separated from their Temple because of their exile.

What about the final two passages (2 Chron. 6 and 1 Kings 8), which record the prayer of Solomon? Do they lend credence to the argument that God intended prayer to replace sacrifices and offerings when the people of Israel are in exile? Is it accurate to use these passages to argue that God has no need for sacrifices of any kind in order to forgive his people when they repent and ask for mercy?

These passages in no way imply that sacrifices are to be replaced with prayer. Solomon’s prayer is part of the dedication of the Temple, and it makes clear that God chose the Temple as the place where he would accept the people’s sacrifices and hear his people’s prayers; however, it also warns that if the people are disobedient, their sins would lead to the Temple’s destruction and God’s promises to hear their prayers will be nullified. The Temple was an integral part of Israel’s worship and its destruction was taken as a sign of God’s judgment. Unless the Messiah has come and fulfilled the purpose of the sacrifices and offerings, the absence of the Temple means that the people have no means of atonement.

Every day, traditional Jews ask God to hasten the day of the Temple’s restoration. The two most prominent petitions are the following:

Be favorable, O LORD our God, toward Your people Israel and toward their prayer, and restore the service to the Holy of Holies of Your Temple. The fire-offerings of Israel and their prayer accept with love and favor, and may the service of Your people Israel always be favorable to You.

May it be Your will, O LORD our God, and the God of our forefathers, that You have mercy on us and pardon us for all our errors, atone for us all our iniquities, forgive all our willful sins; and that You rebuild the Holy Temple speedily, in our days, so that we may offer to You the continual offering that it may atone for us, as You have prescribed for us in Your Torah through Moses, Your servant, from Your glorious mouth, as it is said: [Num. 28:1-8 then follows].

These prayers would be utterly meaningless if prayer has adequately replaced sacrifices and offerings. The fact that the rabbis included these petitions is a strong indication that they longed for the day when sacrifices would be restored and there would be joy in the presence of the Lord once more.

The Temple was destroyed because of the sinfulness of our people. God was so grieved by our people’s sins that he finally said,”Enough! No amount of prayer, sacrifice, or fasting will stop me. I will reject my city and my sanctuary, and I will judge my people and banish them from my presence.” How can one imagine the very opposite, i.e. that because we can no longer offer sacrifices, God will be pleased by our prayers instead?

How frightening the destruction of the Temple must have been for our people, especially when they knew that the door had been shut on national atonement. There are traditions that say that for forty years before the destruction of the Second Temple, God did not accept the sacrifices that were offered on behalf of the people on the Day of Atonement (see b. Yoma 39b), but at least there would have been some hope while the Temple was still standing. After its destruction, there was nothing but grasping at straws such as hoping that prayer would be accepted in place of sacrifice—a wish without guarantees or assurance.

The petition for God to heed the prayers in place of sacrifice continues today, remarkably sandwiched between an admission of sin as the cause of the destruction of the Temple and a list of details for the offering of animal sacrifices at the altar! Clearly the Temple’s destruction indicates that something is missing in Israel’s relationship with God.

Maybe you’ve experienced this conundrum, too. Maybe as you’ve prayed the various prayers, you’ve sensed that something is spiritually disjointed, but you don’t know what the problem is. Maybe you’re sensing the fact that you have no acceptable form of atonement for your sins and that all the prayers in the world cannot take the place of blood atonement.These daily prayers are recited by a people that is still scattered around the world, a people that—even with a homeland—still has no Temple, a people that still awaits some hint that the Messiah will come, though he was expected so many centuries ago.

Spend some time thinking about this concept of blood atonement and how the death of Yeshua meets those requirements. In subsequent sections, I will elaborate on these topics. As I draw this section to a close, let me say it yet one more time: There is not a single verse in the entire Hebrew Bible which states that the prophets repudiated the sacrificial system or that prayer has replaced sacrifice.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 71-103.

“Even if I accept your premise that blood sacrifices are of great importance in the Torah, the fact is that our Hebrew Bible—including the Torah itself—offers other means of atonement, not just the shedding of blood.”

I will address your claim that the Bible presents other means of atonement that don’t involve shedding blood, but first I want to remind you just how important blood atonement is in the Scriptures. The Torah tells us that ever since the very beginning people have been making blood sacrifices to the Lord, but it’s only in the book of Exodus that these blood sacrifices are explicitly commanded and directly linked to atonement. The blood of the Passover lamb, smeared by the Israelites around their doors in Egypt, was God’s way of indicating which lives were to be saved. To ratify God’s covenant with Israel, Moses sprinkled blood over the people. The Targum of Onkelos adds that before the people were sprinkled, Moses poured blood on the altar as “an atonement for the people” (Exod. 24:8) (which shows that the Talmudic rabbis associated the spilling of blood with atonement). Because of their direct involvement in making atonement for Israel and their own need for purification, the priests were consecrated with the blood that had been shed for the atonement sacrifice (Exod. 29:20, 33). Obviously, blood is an essential element of atonement rituals.

Instructions for an annual act of atonement can be found in Exodus 30:10. These instructions say nothing about prayer, fasting, oreven repentance—but they do mention blood! The text seems to indicate that if blood is removed from the equation, atonement is not possible. Leviticus 16, which describes in greater detail what is necessary for the Day of Atonement, emphasizes the centrality of blood sacrifice. The Holy of Holies, the altar, and the Tent of Meeting were all central to the ceremony of the Day of Atonement, and it is no coincidence that they were cleansed with blood. Atonement is mentioned forty-nine times in the book of Leviticus, and every single time it is connected to blood sacrifices. From this, we can see how much of an emphasis the Torah places on the shedding of blood as a means for atonement.

The passage that provides the strongest support for the Talmudic observation that “there is no atonement without the blood” is Leviticus 17:11: “For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life.” Yes, I am aware that the primary purpose of this passage is to explain why blood should not be eaten, but that only underscores the importance of blood in a ritualistic sense; the blood sacrifices operated on a principle of substitution—life for a life. This was thought to be a common understanding in the early first century, and it is echoed in the New Testament book Hebrews (9:22): “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” There were different aspects to the ritual, including laying one’s hands on the head of the animal, waving the offering, etc., but it was the blood that was considered the effective aspect.

This intimate and inseparable connection between blood and atonement is still demonstrated in certain Orthodox circles around the world, when on the eve of Yom Kippur (or, in some circles, on the eve of Rosh Hashanah), either a live rooster or hen is waved three times while a prayer is said, indicating that the bird is a substitute for the life of the person praying. The fowl is then taken immediately for slaughter, and its death is understood as an atonement offering.

“There is no atonement without blood” became a Rabbinic maxim (see e.g., b. Yoma 5a; b. Pesahim 59b; b. Zevahim 6a). I am aware that the rabbis also claimed that once the Temple had been destroyed, blood atonement could be replaced by prayer, repentance and charitable deeds, but there is no denying that the Torah emphasizes that the shedding of blood was absolutely necessary for atonement. Prayers, repentance and good deeds are important aspects of our lives as God’s people, but they are no substitute for blood atonement. While the Temple was still standing, there was no need to think of anything else that might replace blood atonement; it was only after its destruction that other forms of atonement, including fasts and acts of loving-kindness, were considered.

What about the provision in Leviticus5:11-13 for those who could not afford to bring an animal for sacrifice and were encouraged to bring a measure of flour instead? Neither that passage, nor any other claims that the flour itself could bring about atonement, it was the priest’s mingling of the flour with the other sacrifices that enabled the poor to take part in the sacrifice of atonement on the altar and to be forgiven along with the others.

What about Exodus 30 (cf. Num. 31) and its references to atonement money—could this be an alternative form of atonement presented in the Torah? If you read the passage carefully, you’ll see that what is actually being paid for is protection from plague, not atonement for sin. All the men over twenty are meant to offer a kopher (ransom) for their lives. The word kopher is used fourteen times in the Hebrew Scriptures to mean “ransom,” or “bribe,” or “payoff,” but it is never used in any connection with atonement. Many scholars, and even some leading rabbinic commentators, have noted that the word kopherin Exodus 30 has been read as kippur, and, therefore, translated not as “ransom,” but as “atonement.” Rashi was able to consider two possible explanations for this passage: the first was that ransom money was paid to avert the plague brought about by the census; the second was that money was being paid to help finance the Tabernacle sacrifices, which indirectly affirms the importance of the blood atonement. The passage surely can’t be suggesting that you can use money to buy forgiveness of sins!

Numbers 16:46-48 (see also Heb. 17:11-13) seems to indicate that the offering of incense can lead to atonement, but again, the context of the passage suggests that it was to avert plague that the incense was burned. Again, it’s the word kipper (usually translated “to make atonement or expiation”) that’s at stake here. There are some very creative attempts to explain what the passage means. Rashi tried to explain how incense could keep away plague, and Rashbam pointed out that incense in the wrong hands brought death instead of life. The Talmud struggled with bringing atonement together with incense and concluded that burning incense only atoned for gossip (see b. Zevahim 88a). Burning incense could never replace blood atonement, even after the destruction of the Temple. A careful examination of the Torah shows that there are no other provisions for atonement besides blood sacrifice. Certainly, incense is closely connected to ritual sacrifice, but it has no power to make atonement. Those who believe they are justified in arguing otherwise, especially the anti-missionaries, have no genuine biblical proof for their position.

What about in the rest of the Bible? Are there any additional passages that might add to or shed light on the Torah regarding other forms of atonement? Some have drawn attention to certain passages that allegedly speak about other forms of atonement, but they are even less convincing than those that are supposedly found in the Torah; however, so as not to leave any stone unturned, let’s explore these passages.

Granted, there are numerous texts in the Hebrew Bible that describe God as merciful and forgiving, and these generally do not mention blood sacrifices. This is not unusual, however, since these passages are highlighting who God is, not how atonement is made. They call people to repentance and use the description of God’s merciful nature to encourage them. In fact, the word kipper is used in the Psalms to speak of God’s forgiveness (see 65:4[3]; 78:38; 79:9), but there is no reason to think that these passages refer to any other ordained means of achieving forgiveness apart from blood atonement. These passages do not spell out the requirements for forgiveness, but are simply describing the gracious nature of God.

In Isaiah, there are several passages which use the word kipper (see esp. 27:9), but again, because of the context (which has to do with ending idolatrous practices) the term is generally translated “purge, wipe away,” instead of “atone.” In Isaiah’s description of his vision of the Lord, he uses the word kipper to speak about the removal of his guilt and sin (Isa. 6:7), which is best translated as “take away, remove.” Even if this passage is referring to atonement, there is a very close connection with sacrifices in the use of the burning coal which was taken from the altar. Also, we have to keep in mind that this is a prophet’s vision and that this is the only instance in which coal is burned as a means of purification in the Bible. This passage does not provide a firm foundation for claiming that burning coal is an alternative form of atonement. Besides, applying burning coals to our lips to ensure our forgiveness would not be a very good idea! The context of the vision indicates that the action is meant to purge whatever is unclean, not make atonement for sins.

These are all the passages that are generally used to support the claim that blood sacrifices are not the only way in which we can achieve atonement with God, and none of those texts conclusively offers a replacement for sacrifice. Blood sacrifices were the only God-ordained means of atonement in the Hebrew Bible.

Throughout the generations, blood sacrifices were offered to make atonement for the nation. Hezekiah offered them (2 Chron. 29:20, 24), the priests and Levites in Nehemiah’s day offered them (Neh. 9:32-33), and in Ezekiel’s vision of the future, blood sacrifices are still offered (Ezek. 43:19-20, 26; 45:15-17, 20). The Tanakh is indisputable, consistent, and clear. As summarized by the author of Hebrews: “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.”

Any other system of atonement which does not include blood is not biblical, and any other system of atonement which fails to offer substitutionary atonement, i.e., an innocent sacrificial victim dying on behalf of a guilty sinner, is not able to provide real forgiveness of sins. God established life for life, not money for life, not jewelry for life, not flour for life, not incense for life, as the means of expiation for his people. As the Talmudic rabbis recognized—atleast while the Temple stood—”There is no atonement without the blood.”

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 103-123.

“Even if I admit that we need blood atonement, I still won’t believe in Jesus. God wanted the blood of a goat or a lamb, not a person. He doesn’t want human sacrifice!“

Of course God is not interested in human sacrifice, but have you ever heard the phrase: “The death of the righteous has atoning power”? It is a very Jewish concept, and I want to focus on this phrase in response to this objection.

According to historian Rabbi Berel Wein, the Eastern European Jews who were caught up in the massacres of the seventeenth century found strength to endure by calling upon a tradition that goes back to biblical times, which allowed them to think of their own innocent dead as helping to expiate the sins of the world. Remembering the biblical stories of Isaac and Nadav and Avihu helped them to believe that the deaths of their own innocents were not in vain, and that somehow Israel, and even the whole world, would be positively affected by their “stretching their neck to be slaughtered” (Wein, The Triumph of Survival, 14).

Do you see what Wein, an Orthodox Jew, is claiming? He is declaring that according to the Bible and to tradition, a human life—a righteous one—might serve as an atonement for the sins of other human beings. Wein indicates that this tradition grew in strength once the animal sacrifices were no longer offered in the Temple.

One of the foundational texts for the Talmud’s claim that “the death of the righteous atones” is the account of the burial of Saul and Jonathan. Seven of Saul’s relatives had been offered as restitution for the Gibeonites that had been killed by Saul (2 Samuel 21:14). The passage says that after David had retrieved all the bodies of the Israelites and had them buried, “God answered prayer on behalf of the land.” In other words, the deaths of the seven men not only appeased the Gibeonites, but were the reason behind God’s positive response to his people’s prayers.

The Midrash and the Zohar also elaborate on the concept of the atoning death of the righteous. In the former, God is said to have told Moses that on a day when neither Tabernacle nor Temple would bestanding, God would take one of their righteous men and “keep him as a pledge on their behalf so that I may pardon [or atone for] all their sins” (Exodus Rabbah Terumah 35:4). The Zohar, referring to the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, declares, “In general a just person is only smitten in order to procure healing and atonement for a whole generation,” but “when the Holy One desires to give healing to the world, He smites one just man amongst them, and for his sake heals all the rest.” The Zohar states that the Messiah would remove the world’s “diseases” now that the sacrificial system has ended (2:212a).

Although these sources are Jewish, they testify to the logic of one of the central messages of the gospel: The Messiah—the holy and righteous servant of the Lord—was smitten for the sins of the world, and through his death we can receive atonement for our sins and healing for our souls. Rabbinic scholar Solomon Schechter’s Aspects of Rabbinic Theology, in which he offers a summary of the Talmudic teaching that the suffering and death of the righteous atones for sin, shows us just how biblical and Jewish this idea is. After comparing Moses and Isaiah’s Suffering Servant, Schechter explains that being willing to offer one’s life as an atonement for Israel was a characteristic of all the great men of Israel and of some of the rabbis.

This tradition of the righteous martyr goes all the way back to the Binding of Isaac. The biblical story stresses the obedience of Abraham, but the rabbis also emphasized the obedience of Isaac (understood to be a grown man), who willingly presented himself as the offering. There is a midrash about the act of creation, in which the angels ask God about the significance human beings. One of the answers God gives is: “You shall see a father slay his son, and the son consenting to be slain, to sanctify my Name” (Tanhuma, Vayyera, sec. 18). That was the height of sacrificial service: A father offering up his own son, and the son willingly laying down his life for the glory of God. There is a very familiar gospel ring to that interpretation! In fact, the midrash compares Isaac, who carried the wood for the burnt offering (i.e., himself), to “one who carries his cross on his own shoulder” (see Genesis Rabbah 56:3).

Professor GezaVermes, who has studied interpretations of the Binding of Isaac in Jewish traditions, has discovered several intriguing connections to atonement in general. Even though Isaac didn’t die on the altar, the rabbis claimed that according to the Scriptures, Isaac was still credited with having died and with his ashes having been placed upon the altar (Midrash Ha Gadol on Gen. 22:19 and Sifra, 102c; b. Ta’anit 16a). To emphasize the important relationship between shed blood and atonement, a tradition was developed claiming that even though he had not actually died, Isaac had shed one fourth of his blood on the altar (Mekhilta d’Rashbi, p. 4; Tanh. Vayerra, sec. 23). The early Jewish midrash Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael says that it was Isaac’s blood that God remembered when he passed over the Israelite houses smeared with the blood of the Passover lamb. What’s more, the effectiveness of the whole sacrificial system was credited to the Akedah (the Binding of Isaac), because Isaac was seen as the perfect self-offering.

Vermes has uncovered several prayers that reference Isaac and atonement (see Fragmentary Targum and Leviticus Rabbah, 29:9). In the prayer that is still said today in the additional service for Rosh Hashanah there is a reference to Isaac: “Remember today the Binding of Isaac with mercy to his descendants.” The rabbis even taught that the final resurrection of the dead would take place “through the merits of Isaac, who offered himself upon the altar” (Pesikta de RavKahane, 32).

“The death of the righteous atones” is very deeply ingrained in the Jewish tradition. There’s a certain logic behind it that has its basis in the relationship between sin and punishment. When someone sins, they often “pay” for it by suffering somehow, and the more serious the sin, the greater the suffering. This concept can be found in Leviticus 26:43 and Isaiah 40:1. Considering these verses that connect “payment” for sins, it’s not difficult to see why the rabbis thought that “exile atones” (b. Berakhot 56a; b Sanh. 37b). Once the people had paid the serious price of exile for their serious sins, they would return to the land. At the same time, nowhere do these texts use the word “atone.” There is a significant difference between “payment” and “atonement.” Atonement removes guilt and purifies the sinner; it doesn’t just pay for sin.

The rabbis recognized different classes of sins which required different means of gaining forgiveness, including repentance, restitution, waiting until the Day of Atonement, passing through a certain amount of suffering, and waiting until death—the final payment—which could count not only for one’s own sins, but also for the sins of others. Numbers 25 provides a biblical example in which the deaths of guilty representatives paid the price needed to turn away God’s wrath from the guilt of the whole nation. In this passage Phineas, a grandson of Aaron the priest, takes a spear and runs it through the Israelite man lying with a Moabite woman. This action not only stops the spread of the plague through Israel, but also earns Phineas and his descendants a lasting covenant of peace with the Lord “because [Phineas] was zealous for the honor of his God and made atonement for the Israelites” (Num. 25:13b). According to this passage, atonement was made for the whole sinful nation through the death of a small number of representative sinners; their deaths were considered adequate payment for the sins of the whole group.

If this is true for guilty representatives, what about the death of a righteous person? If the most righteous person in the community offered to give his life as a ransom so that the others might be spared, how valuable would his death be? There’s plenty in the Jewish tradition regarding the “merits of the patriarchs” or “the merits of the righteous”; it’s clearly not a foreign concept.

What if the Messiah offered up his life for the nation? Is there any other individual whose life is worth more than his? When the Messiah died, his death served as a ransom for the sins of the whole world. He came into this world not to be served, “but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

Israel’s whole sacrificial system was based on the principle of life for life, where those who were guilty transferred their sins onto an innocent victim. This concept of substitution, however, didn’t just hold for animal sacrifices – it also carried over into the human realm. For example, there was an assumption that the Levites helped absorb the wrath of God on behalf of the nation when someone profaned the sanctuary (Num. 8:19). Also, according to Numbers 35, the death of the high priest—theone charged with interceding and making atonement at the altar on behalf of the nation—could bring an end to the punishment of a person guilty of unintentional manslaughter. This idea of substitutionary death reaches its high point in Isaiah 53 in reference to the Suffering Servant on whom “the Lord has laid the iniquity of us all . . . for he bore the sin of many and made intercession for the transgressors.”

Some religious Jews react negatively to the idea that a sacrifice could pay for sins that have not yet been committed, but even this concept has a place in the tradition. For example, there are traditional prayers said upon the death of a rabbi asking that his death will serve as an atonement for the present generation (presumably even for those sins committed after his death). There’s also Isaac’s sacrifice, which was said to somehow be effective for all subsequent generations. This idea is not foreign to Judaism. Not only is this concept consistent with Scripture and Jewish thought, but it has already received its fullest application in our nation’s history in the death of one righteous individual whose life of perfect obedience and whose willingness to give his life in the place of others has the power to free every one of us from the guilt of our sins, satisfying the wrath of God and making complete atonement for us all. The Messiah, the obedient Son, said to his Father, “Let my life be an atonement for them,” and God said, “It is enough.”

As the apostle Paul explains: “Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Messiah died for us” (Rom. 5:7-8). This message is very Jewish! The death of the righteous—the truly righteous, the Messiah, the High Priest of Israel and the nations, the Redeemer who pays for our sins—atones!

It’s incredibly difficult to wrap our minds around the enormity of our sins accumulated over the course of our lifetime, let alone the enormous amount of sins that accumulate for every person in the world. Add to that not only the sins of those who are alive right now, but the sins of every other human being in history. Who could possibly pay for such a huge mountain of sins? It would need to be someone very righteous indeed, someone whose death would be worth an infinite value in order to counterbalance the evil in the world.The Son of God, the Messiah, whose life and death was of infinite value in the eyes of God, has taken upon himself the sins of the world, and his blood makes atonement for us in full.

It was not the blood of animals that God was ultimately interested in, and it wasn’t Isaac who died for our sins. All the righteous martyrs and godly priests could never make us truly whole. The Messiah alone was able to make atonement for our sins, once and for all. The death of the Righteous atones. Through him you can make a break with your past, receive the forgiveness of sins, and start with a brand new slate. Through him your life can be changed. The Messiah took your place. Today can be your Day of Atonement if you fully trust in him.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 153-167.

“Another reason that I can’t believe that the death of Jesus paid for my sins is that the Torah teaches that for the blood to be effectual, it had to be poured out on the altar in a specific way. This obviously does not refer to Jesus!“

Let me remind you that it was the sacrificial system that pointed to the death of the Messiah, not the other way around. Animal sacrifices exemplified certain principles that would only find their full explanation in the blood of the Messiah. The Messiah was not treated like an animal sacrifice, and therefore, the detailed laws as to how those sacrifices were to be carried out do not apply to his death. Even so, God accepted blood sacrifices that weren’t carried out on the altar in Jerusalem (e.g., 2 Sam. 24:17-25; 1 Kings 18:31-39), which means your argument would rule those out too.

When Isaiah declared that the Lord would make his righteous servant an ‘asham (guilt offering) (Isa. 53:10), did he stipulate that this would have to take place on the altar in Jerusalem if it was to be really effective? Of course not! Just as the blood of religious Jews through the ages—whose deaths were considered as atoning for their generation’s sins—was not poured out on the altar in Jerusalem (see 3.15), neither was the blood of Yeshua, who willingly offered his life as a righteous martyr, making atonement for the sins of the world. The sacrifice regulations referred to types and images of the ultimate sacrifice by which the Messiah saved the world.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 167-168.

“It’s clear that you misunderstand the whole sacrificial system. Sacrifices were for unintentional sins only. Repentance was the only remedy for intentional sins.“

Before I respond to your objection directly, allow me to clarify a few things. First of all, Christians and Messianic Jews believe that sacrifices without repentance and faith are meaningless. Furthermore, we do not believe that every time an Israelite sinned, he had to offer a sacrifice. We also don’t believe that God’s people could think it appropriate to continue a cycle of sinning followed by repentance. Finally, we believe that there is no forgiveness for those who willfully and defiantly continue to sin.

Having said that, let me remind you that there were many kinds of sacrifices and offerings made in Israel to meet different needs—dedication, thanksgiving, removal of ritual impurity, fellowship or peace. There were also sin and guilt offerings (hatta’t and ‘asham, respectively), which are not easily distinguishable. Generally, they are thought to have been associated with unintentional sins, i.e. those done out of ignorance; however, under certain circumstances the ‘asham sacrifices could also be used to atone for intentional sins, as outlined in Leviticus 5:20-26 (6:1-7 in most English translations). This clearly indicates that the anti-missionary claim that blood sacrifices only atoned for unintentional sins is not true.

Leviticus 16, which describes the rituals for the Day of Atonement, is very clear that all the sins of the community—not only those that were described as “wickedness” or “iniquity” (Heb. ‘awon), but also those described as “rebellion” (Heb. pesha’, meaning willful transgression)—were included and transferred to the goat sent away into the desert. The Talmud (see m. Shevu’ot 1:6) even more explicitly details the kinds of transgressions atoned for by the sacrificial goat, and includes deliberate acts, things done knowingly, even those acts that are punishable by karet (extirpation) and death, as well as minor or unintentional sins. Even Maimonides (Laws of Repentance, 1:2), acknowledges that all sins, both light and serious, unintentional and intentional, unconscious and conscious—even those punishable by execution or premature death—can be atoned for through the sacrificial goat on the Day of Atonement. (The question that is left somewhat vague, however, is to what degree repentance and faith were deemed necessary for the effectiveness of the sacrifices.)

Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the Temple (1 Kings 8; 2 Chron. 6) explains that the sins of the people would be atoned for when they turned to God in repentance and prayed toward the Temple. Because of the sacrifices that were offered in the Temple, God promised to forgive and restore his people. If you take a closelook at the prayer itself, you’ll see that Solomon is referring to both intentional and unintentional acts, to both sins and transgressions.

Think about the actual practices that happen as part of the Yom Kippur celebration even now. In certain Orthodox circles, following the custom of kapparot, a rooster or a hen is slaughtered as a substitute for the sinner’s own death, which he acknowledges would be the just penalty for his sins. Also, the prescribed prayers said on Yom Kippur include almost every imaginable sin, those things for which sacrifice would have been made by the priests, and which would have been accompanied by the repentance and fasting of the people while the Temple was still standing. There must have been something effective in the sacrifices of the Temple, since, after its destruction, something was deemed necessary to replace them, i.e., prayer and repentance.

Numbers 15:22-31 seems to suggest that only unintentional sins could be atoned for through sacrifices, and that there was no way of ridding oneself of the guilt of willful, defiant sins. According to Rashi, however, rather than this passage cutting off all hope of atonement for transgressions, this text is emphasizing the need for repentance, without which the sinner remains guilty (b. Sanh. 90b). There is hope that the sinner might repent and then find forgiveness through sacrifice. A passage from Hebrews in the New Testament seems to echo this interpretation, explaining that there is no sacrifice left for those who keep on sinning even after they know the truth, and that those who continue to act as an enemy of God and his Son will face an even graver punishment than those who rejected the law of Moses (Heb. 10:26-31). Apart from repentance, there is no means of atonement. Those who continue to face God defiantly will not be restored; however, forgiveness is still possible for those willing to repent and perform the services in the Temple that are required according to the Law.

There is a rabbinic view that repentance can turn intentional sins into unintentional ones, so that they are eligible for sacrifice and can be atoned for. Whether this position is correct or not, it still seems to emphasize the importance of the sacrificial system for atonement, adding yet another challenge to the anti-missionary position.

There is a lot of biblical evidence, which Rabbinic literature affirms, that militates against the position that the sacrificial system only atoned for unintentional sins.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 126-135.

“Even if I accept your arguments about the centrality of blood sacrifices, it only holds true while the Temple is standing. The book of Daniel teaches us that if the Temple has been destroyed and is not functional, prayer replaces sacrifice. In fact, the book of Ezekiel is even more explicit, telling Jews living in the exile—and therefore without any access to the Temple, even if it were standing—that repentance and good works are all God requires.”

Let’s start with the passage from Daniel and see if it teaches that after the Temple has been destroyed, prayer will replace sacrifice. In this passage, namely 6:10, we are told that while in exile, Daniel turned toward Jerusalem and prayed to God three times a day, but that’s all it says. It doesn’t say that prayer replaced sacrifice; it doesn’t even tell all Jews in all generations to come that they are supposed to pray three times daily. The only thing described in this passage is how Daniel structured his prayer life—nothing more, nothing less.

Daniel was desperate to get back to Jerusalem and restore the Temple. He knew that the destruction of Jerusalem and the exile were punishments for the disobedience of the nation, and his prayers were full of heartfelt confessions of sin and pleas for God to restore the holy city and the desolate sanctuary (Dan. 9:15-19). Daniel interpreted the destruction of the Temple as God’s judgment of the nation. The sign that God would be pleased with his people once again would be the restoration of the Temple and of the sacrificial system. Daniel would have been appalled if another Jewish exile had suggested to him that he didn’t need to worry about the Temple or sacrifices anymore, because God had decided that these could be replaced by prayer.

When Ezra and his contemporaries were finally allowed to return to Jerusalem, their one goal was to rebuild the Temple and start offering sacrifices again.They risked their lives to make that happen. Cyrus the king of Persia, who was used by God to allow the Jews to return from exile, issued an edict that emphasized the divine plan to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem (Ezra 1:2-4). He commanded: “Let the temple be rebuilt as a place to present sacrifices” (Ezra 6:3-5); clearly God had not intended for sacrifices to be permanently replaced by prayer. The first thing the people did when they returned to Jerusalem, evenbefore they laid the foundations for the Temple, was to rebuild the altar “in accordance with what is written in the Law of Moses the man of God” and to offer burnt offerings again to the Lord (Ezra 3:1-6).

Six hundred years later, during the devastations and difficulties of the war against Rome (66-70 CE), daily sacrifices were still being offered until there were no more lambs and qualified priests left. This was three weeks before the Temple was destroyed by the Romans and sacrifices ceased altogether (Ta’an. 4:6, Jos., Wars, 6:94).

Why did Daniel pray three times a day? Who knows? There were only two daily sacrifices in the Temple, so his prayer habit doesn’t correspond with those. The Psalms suggest praying seven times a day (Ps. 119:164) and that doesn’t correspond with Temple rituals either. It doesn’t make much sense to claim that Daniel’s prayers replaced the routine that would have been followed in the Temple.

Let me remind you that the last of the Eighteen Benedictions (ShemonehEsreh), recited daily by Jews, is a prayer for the rebuilding of the Temple, and a plea that true service will be restored to the Temple. This is a strong indication that the prayer service is not an adequate substitution for sacrifices. With all of this background, both ancient and contemporary, I find it difficult to understand how anyone could still claim that prayer replaced sacrifice during the exile when the Temple was destroyed.

Let’s take a look at Ezekiel 18 and 33, the other passages that were mentioned in this objection. Many anti-missionaries use these passages in their attempts to downplay the need for sacrifice to achieve atonement, claiming that repentance alone suffices; however, their interpretation of these passages is problematic.

The first thing we need to do is ask ourselves how Ezekiel’s words would have been heard by those who first received them. If the people in exile had ever really thought Ezekiel’s message meant that God no longer required their sacrifices, then what happened to that message when they returned to Jerusalem? It doesn’t look like they thought Ezekiel was ordering them not to participate any longer in the Temple rituals and Day of Atonement. When they returned to the land, the people of Israel wholeheartedly resumed their participation in the system of sacrificial atonement, knowing that they were faithfully following the Torah. The same question can be raised here as above in relation to Daniel’s message: Why were the people so eager to get back to Jerusalem, rebuild the Temple and resume sacrifices if they truly believed that repentance alone was needed to achieve atonement? Ezekiel’s visions included a restored Temple with sacrifices taking place again; these visions were part of the promise for the future in which Israel’s sins would be dealt with once and for all. Ezekiel’s messages are acknowledged to be the word of God, so they cannot be revoked.

Yes, Ezekiel advocated repentance, but in this context (Ezek. 18) he did so in response to the recognition that children were suffering for the sins of their parents—he wasn’t making some blanket statement about the sacrificial system and atonement. In fact, the text doesn’t even mention atonement; it simply describes the traits of a righteous person and a wicked person, those who prove by their actions that they either belong to, or have turned away from God. Both the New Testament and the Hebrew Scriptures emphasize the need for repentance and trust in God’s means for atonement. Ezekiel 18 certainly refers to repentance and to acceptable and unacceptable deeds, but just because sacrifices were not explicitly mentioned, does not mean that the prophet thought God had changed the means for atonement. Ezekiel failed to mention many things in that passage such as the Sabbath and the High Holy Days; do you really think he also intended for these to be replaced by repentance alone?

You should be aware that the interpretation of Ezekiel 18 as advocating repentance as an alternative to sacrificially derived atonement is a very modern reading of that passage and can claim no support from either the Talmudic or medieval Jewish commentators. Why didn’t this particular argument ever occur to the great Jewish scholars of the past, but has only recently come to light when the anti-missionaries were looking for ways to refute Messianic Jewish emphasis on the importance of Jesus’ atoning death?

Another thing I want to make you aware of is the ceremony of kapparot, which takes place on the eve of Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah in certain Orthodox circles. This ceremony, which involves a ritual that culminates in the slaughter of either a rooster or a hen (to which the sins of the individual are symbolically transferred), demonstrates the continuing need for substitutionary atonement that is felt in the absence of the Temple. As the birds are swung around the head three times, the following is recited: “This is my substitute, my vicarious offering, my atonement; this cock (or hen) shall meet death, but I shall find a long and pleasant life of peace.” This is a strong indication that the idea of sacrificial atonement is not obsolete in Judaism.

It has been almost 2000 years since the Temple was destroyed, and the fact that Judaism has continued without the Temple cult is often considered proof that all is well; however, study of the Torah, prayer, and beneficence, noble and important as they are, do not take the place of the Temple service. Rather than make us complacent, this situation really should raise a very important question for our people: Has God simply left us this long without a means of atonement? This is not the case. God has not left us on our own, but has provided atonement once and for all through Jesus the Messiah. If you read through the Scriptures while praying for God to open up their meaning to you, you will discover that God’s compassion for the whole world has been revealed in Yeshua’s death, the sacrifice that atones for our sins.

Interestingly, it was while God’s people were in exile in a foreign land, without Temple and sacrifices, that they began to think more intensely about Isaiah’s Suffering Servant. The idea that a righteous man, one who suffered greatly, would die for the sins of his people, began to take root in their hearts and minds. God prepared the ground for his people to see that the sacrifices introduced through the Law would find their true fulfillment in a human being who would offer himself up on their behalf. This act of final atonement was to take place during the days of the Second Temple according to Daniel (see Dan. 9:24-27, discussed in vol. 1, 2.3 and vol. 3, 4.18-21); in accordance with this prophecy, Yeshua, the righteous Messiah and servant of the Lord, came and completed his atoning work before the Second Temple was destroyed in 70 CE.

The Temple sacrifices had the important function of ritually purifying God’s people and offering them temporary atonement. Those sacrifices, however, could not offer complete cleansing or the eternal forgiveness of sins. For this to happen, the Messiah needed to come and offer himself as an atoning sacrifice. This sacrifice is what gives all the other sacrifices their effectiveness. God’s forgiveness of sin in every day and age has resulted from the atoning sacrifice of God’s Son, the righteous Messiah, who has paid our debt in full by dying in our place. As explained in 3.15, this is the exemplification of the rabbinic concept that, “The death of the righteous atones.” It is this grace that makes it possible for the people of Israel to receive God’s mercy even though the Temple has been destroyed.

The sacrificial system, which was a central part of the religious life of God’s people, emphasized the importance of blood atonement and the need for an innocent substitute to die in our place. God has always had one system of atonement and one system alone, namely, substitutionary atonement, life-for-life atonement, blood atonement. Blood sacrifices were always foundational for our people, and they always pointed to that day when the ideal Substitute would come and lay down his life for us.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 136-152.

“The book of Jonah totally shoots down all your arguments about sacrifice and atonement, especially with reference to Gentiles. When Jonah preached, the people repented and God forgave them—no sacrifice, no blood, of offering.”

Exodus 19:4-6 says that Israel was called to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” In living out that calling, Israel interceded and made atonement not only for their own sins, but for those of the whole world. Gentile nations that repented and turned to the God of Israel would be forgiven because of Israel’s sacrifices. This understanding of Israel’s calling is explained and emphasized in the Talmud (b. Sukkah 55b; Pesikta de Rav Kahana, Buber edition, 193b-194a). Rabbi Yohanan mourns for the world’s loss resulting from the destruction of the Second Temple, since everyone was deprived of the means for atonement.

Clearly, “God can have mercy on whom he wants to have mercy and have compassion on whom he wants to have compassion” (Exod. 33:19), but he called our nation to perform all that was necessary for obtaining atonement for the sins of the world. We all are sinners and need some way to have our relationship with God restored. The sacrificial system had its important, though partial, role to play in that restoration, but it was the atoning death of the Messiah that fulfilled it and made it possible for everyone to enter into God’s presence.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 152-153.

“If the death of Jesus was the fulfillment of the sacrificial system, why do the prophets anticipate sacrifices when the Third Temple is built?“

The book of Hebrews strongly emphasizes the once-and-for all nature of Jesus’ death (see Heb. 7:27, 10:8-10). At first glance, there does seem to be a contradiction between this claim and the visions given by God to the prophets regarding the future. Let’s see whether there is really a contradiction here.

The most prominent of these prophetic visions can be found in the last eight chapters of Ezekiel, in which the prophet describes a new Temple, an altar, sacrifices, and priests. God promised to fill the new Temple with his glory and to make it his dwelling place among his people forever (see Ezek. 43:7-9). Ezekiel’s vision includes detailed instructions on how the new Temple is to be built and how offerings are to be made, including regulations on sin offerings and guilt offerings, and the blood that is to be used for atonement (see e.g., Ezek. 42:13; 43:18-21; 43:20, 26; 45:15, 17, 20).

With its assumption of the continuation of animal sacrifices this must be considered by Jews to be not only problematic for followers of Jesus, but also for traditional Jews too since they claim that the sacrificial system has been replaced by prayer, repentance, and charity. The vision indicates that sacrifices are in some way pleasing to God and are part of his people’s future. Is this not a step backwards for traditional Jews, especially in light of the anti-missionary stance that prayer is superior and more acceptable to God than animal sacrifice?

The last eight chapters of Ezekiel are widely considered to be very difficult to interpret by both leading Orthodox Jewish and Christian scholars. There are many discrepancies between Ezekiel’s Temple laws and comparable laws in the Torah. Some scholars have been so thoroughly puzzled by Ezekiel 40-48 that they have decided to let Elijah explain itupon his return! If even the best Jewish scholars don’t quite know what to make of these chapters in relation to the Torah, how can you blame Messianic Jews for not having a satisfactory answer that corresponds neatly with the claims of the New Testament regarding Jesus’ atoning death?

One of the challenges of these chapters is that they suggest that the Temple of the vision is meant to be constructed during the prophet’s lifetime. In Ezekiel 43:19 God tells Ezekiel, “You are to take the blood, you are to take the bull, etc.” And there are other places in chapters 44-48 where Ezekiel is expected to be carrying out the various Temple functions. Does this vision refer to the Second or to a Third Temple? The vision makes it clear that Ezekiel is meant to share all the details of the Temple as a means of bringing about the repentance of those in exile, so that they would be spiritually prepared to build it when they returned. If that is the case, it seems things didn’t quite turn out as Ezekiel expected.

Given the traditional understanding that Ezekiel never returned from exile but was buried in Babylon, given that the Second Temple was not built to Ezekiel’s specifications, and given that the glorious transformation promised in the vision never came to pass upon the people’s return from exile, Radak came to believe that this passage pointed to the resurrection. He maintained that the men of Ezekiel’s generation would indeed build the Temple—but thousands of years in the future, after their resurrection—and that Ezekiel would be there serving as priest alongside Aaron.

Rashi believed that the Temple should have been built during Ezekiel’s lifetime, shortly after the return from exile, but that the sinfulness of the people prohibited its construction. In other words, the vision had to be postponed, which was neither what God had intended, nor what Ezekiel had understood. All this demonstrates how difficult it is to interpret Ezekiel’s vision. If the rabbis believe that best solution to the interpretive difficulties is to wait for the return of Elijah, then I don’t know how this vision can be used to discredit the Messiah’s once-and-for-all atoning death on the cross.

Even if the details of Ezekiel’s vision might be a bit ambiguous, what about its assumption that sacrifices of atonement will still be needed in the future? I would argue that this vision raises the question not only of atonement, but of the function of sacrifices in general. There are Rabbinic traditions that assume that the only sacrifices that will be offered in the Messianic age will be thanksgiving offerings. If that is the case, does Ezekiel’s vision refer to the Messianic age, or does it refer to the age to come (assuming that they are even distinguishable in the first place)? Why would the people of Israel need atonement during the Messianic age in the first place, especially since the vision describes everything as filled with the glory of God?

I’m not going to foolishly claim that I understand what these chapters from Ezekiel are all about, but I do have a few ideas that I’ll share with you. I’m going to move away from Ezekiel for a moment and recall the primary purpose for building a sanctuary. In Exodus 25:8, referring to the Tabernacle, God says, “Then have them make a sanctuary [Heb. “holy place”] for me, and I will dwell [Heb. sh-k-n] among them.” The Temple has the same purpose: the people are promised that if they do everything as directed, God will come and dwell [Heb. sh-k-n] among them (1 Kings 6:12-13). What is the central promise in Ezekiel’s vision? “Now let them put away from me their prostitution and the lifeless idols of their kings, and I will dwell [Heb. sh-k-n] among them forever” (Ezek. 43:9). If you read all three of these passages in context, you’ll see that the desire and promise of God is to live among his people, but for him to do so requires holiness from the people in return.

Following the Talmud (b. Arachin 12a), Rashi and Radak both believed that Ezekiel received his vision on the Day of Atonement during a Jubilee year in which debts are to be cancelled and slaves are to be set free (Lev. 25). This adds some significant layers to our interpretation by bringing together three important themes: God dwelling with his people, atonement, and the release of God’s people from their captivity. The reality of the return, however, did not match the glory of the vision. All this makes me wonder whether Ezekiel, speaking from the perspective of a priest, was somewhat limited by the language at his disposal when he tried to articulate what God had showed him. Perhaps Ezekiel’s vision is completely symbolic; why else would there be so many contradictions between what he sees and how the Torah regulations? Moreover, the vision wasn’t fulfilled during Ezekiel’s lifetime, as the text suggests. Is it possible that Ezekiel’s vision is meant to stretch the spiritual imagination beyond the literal, historical level?

Jeremiah and Isaiah both spoke about Israel’s return from exile, and Haggai and Zechariah mentioned the building of the Second Temple; however, their visions were so glorious that they can only be described as a new creation and a second exodus (see vol. 3, 4.5). These prophecies were fulfilled in different ways than the prophets described they would since the physical glory of the Second Temple was not greater than that of the First and final atonement was not made during those days (see vol. 1, 2.1). What conclusion are we to draw from this? What if Ezekiel’s vision was God’s way of saying to his servant, “I will forgive my people, wipe away their sins, and bring my glory into their midst again. See it, taste it, touch it. It will surely happen!” What could be more glorious to a priest than a restored Temple? What could speak better of atonement and purification than blood sacrifices? These were the words and images Ezekiel had onhand that best expressed God’s glorious promise of forgiveness and restoration of his people.

There are a few possible explanations as to why the return of the Jews from Babylon did not quite match the glorious prophetic visions of that return: (1) the Bible is not true (this is not a viable option for a traditional Jew or for Christians, (2) because Israel was too sinful the timetable had to be altered (despite Rabbinic traditions to that effect, this also is not an option for traditional Jews or Christians),or (3) the promises were fulfilled when the Messiah arrived (which would explain many scriptural passages that would be difficult to interpret otherwise).

The coming of the Messiah into the world is God’s fulfillment of his desire and promise to dwell among his people forever. Through the Messiah, God has brought about the creation of a new Temple, but not one made of stone; he inaugurated a spiritual temple built out of “living stones,” as Peter describes (1 Pet. 2:4-5), comprised of redeemed Jews and Gentiles alike. The people of God would be the Temple of God and God would dwell in us. Spiritual sacrifices would be made to the Lord, beginning with the offering of our own lives. These themes are elaborated on in the New Testament (e.g., Eph. 2:21-22; 1 Cor. 3:16-17; 2 Cor. 6:16-7:1; Heb. 13:15-16).

Perhaps Ezekiel’s vision was not meant to be understood literally, but was to be interpreted as a reassuring sign that God would keep his promises to release and restore his people, provide atonement for sin, and dwell among his people forever. Perhaps it points to Yeshua, our great High Priest, the Messiah and the living Temple made up of God’s own people, redeemed and purified by the blood of the new Paschal lamb.

If you remove the Messiah from the equation, where is the hope that Ezekiel’s vision, and those of the other prophets, will ever be fulfilled? The prophets would have proven unreliable witnesses, since they had prophesied that certain events, including divine visitation and final atonement, would take place before the destruction of the Second Temple (see vol. 1, 2.1). It is no coincidence that there has been no earthly Temple since the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE; God has been building a world-wide spiritual Temple that is sufficient, based on the atoning sacrifice of the Messiah.

For the sake of argument, let’s consider the possibility that the vision does mean that a literal Temple wouldbe built when the Messiah returns and that literal sacrifices wouldbe offered in it. Does that necessarily contradict the claim that Jesus offered atonement once and for all? There are Christians and Jews who believe that the Messiah build the Temple, and they explain the discrepancies between the rules of sacrifice in Ezekiel’s vision and the Temple laws set out in the Torah as an indication that the Temple in Ezekiel’s vision will be a different kind of Temple built according to a new Torah written for a new age.

Let’s examine the function of sacrifices as presented in the Torahin relation to the Messiah and to the age to come. Hebrews 9:11-14 provides a succinct explanation of the relationship of the three: The sacrifices offered according to the Torah both pointed to and anticipated the atoning death of Jesus. They were able to cleanse us from outward defilement and provide a temporary forgiveness, but the atoning death of Jesus actually transforms our natures. After the death of Jesus, animal sacrifices were still offered for another forty years, and Messianic Jews seem to have participated in some of those rituals. Perhaps those sacrifices, as well as those which might be offered in a future Temple, can be understood to point back to what Yeshua has already done to gain our eternal atonement. They might be classified as a memorial, much as communion or the Eucharist is already in Christian circles—a constant reminder of the Messiah’s sacrifice for us. In a similar way, animal sacrifices could be seen as serving as memorials to “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).

There is another question which we must strive to answer: Should we really expect there to be animal sacrifices in a future Temple? In the Messianic era, will there be any need for expiatory sacrifices? As I’ve already mentioned, there is a Rabbinic tradition that only thanksgiving offerings will be made in the Messianic era. Beyond Ezekiel’s vision, there are very few references in the prophets to future sacrifices. Only Jeremiah speaks about offerings made by the Jewish people, whereas Isaiah, Zechariah and Malachi are referring to those brought by Gentiles. None of them mention atonement or forgiveness of sins in relation to sacrifices. These references in Isaiah, Zechariah and Malachi combined only number three or four verses, which implies that this topic was not of primary importance to these prophets.

Zechariah’s reference (14:16, 20-21) has to do with the Feast of Tabernacles, and he does not describe the kind of sacrifice that would be offered. There is some sense in which the passage must be taken metaphorically, since this prophecy presents those coming to sacrifice from all over the world as arriving on horses. This would pose quite a challenge for those coming from New Zealand! Perhaps Zechariah’s vision describes worship of God in general, and not a newly constructed Temple in Jerusalem.

The incense and pure offerings Malachi mentions (Mal. 1:11) could be understood in a similar way: they represent the worship and prayers “in every place” (as the text reads), rather than in a future Temple in Jerusalem. Again, there is no reference to the need for future atonement; instead, there is just a comment on the universal adoration of the Lord. This also happens to be the theme of Isaiah’s relevant vision (19:21), which also mentions that Gentiles would bring sacrifices and offerings as expressions of thanksgiving.

Two passages in Jeremiah could be understood as referring to future sacrifices that would be offered by the people of Israel. The first passage (17:24-26) was delivered before the destruction of the First Temple, so it is possible that it was never fulfilled. The people are offered a chance for “the city to be inhabited forever” if they faithfully keep the Sabbath, but it is fair to assume that since the people failed to repent of their disobedience, they lost the opportunity to receive this blessing. The other text, Jeremiah 33, was given after the destruction of the Temple and refers to a restored city and sacrificial system. This prophecy could have been fulfilled during the Second Temple. The presence of a Third Temple is not a prerequisite for the fulfillment of these prophecies, but even if they do refer to a Third Temple, it is significant that neither of them mentions sin or guilt offerings.

None of the passages in the Hebrew Bible that may be reasonably understood to be referring to a future Temple and sacrifices provides the conclusive evidence necessary for doubting the once-and-for-all nature of the Messiah’s atoning death. In a court of law, the case would be dismissed. Wefind nothing in these texts that make usquestion the finality, power, and efficacy of Yeshua’s atoning death for the sins of the world.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 169-186.

“The Christian concept of salvation is contrary to the Hebrew Bible and Jewish tradition. We Jews don’t need saving!“

Let’s consider two things; first, how the Bible describes salvation, and secondly, why it is that Jews (along with the rest of humanity) are in need of salvation. There are two other concepts that relate to this objection, “original sin” and “the fall of humankind,” which I address in another section (3.20).

You suggest that the differences between the Christian concept of salvation and that of the Hebrew Bible and Jewish tradition are so significant that the two cannot be reconciled. While I agree that the two have some different emphases, they are derived from the same source.

For the most part, the salvation spoken about in the Tanakh is an earthly one. Much of the saving work attributed to God affected his people right then and there. God saves (Heb. y-sh-‘) his people by bringing them out of Egypt and dealing with their Egyptian enemies, and then continues to save them from their enemies. Many of the Psalms are cries to God to save the psalmist from personal enemies, illness, harm, or danger. In the New Testament, the emphasis shifts from earthly salvation to heavenly salvation, from physical deliverance to spiritual deliverance. Although there are differences in emphases, the concepts of salvation are intrinsically connected.

In order to understand the true nature of Israel’s salvation, you need to zoom out to the broadest view and see that Israel’s physical conflicts with the various nations were all part of a larger cosmic battle. There’s a deep connection between the physical and the spiritual. God is in charge over all other hostile forces, whether they are the forces of nature, spiritual forces, or human armies, as Psalms 74 and 93 so aptly capture. God has established his rule and ordered his creation. As Psalm 97 describes, God’s sovereignty is based on righteousness and justice, and he calls his people to hate evil; all false gods and those who worship them will meet God’s wrath.

When God saves his people, he is not just interested in their earthly needs, but is also concerned about their spiritual needs. In Psalm 18, for instance, David calls on God for deliverance from evil men and from the forces of death and destruction, and God saves David because of his righteousness (Ps. 18: 20-24[21-25]). Although the Tanakh primarily depicts God’s salvation in earthly terms, spiritual or heavenly elements were also included because Israel’s life was part of a larger cosmic drama. This is perhaps best illustrated in the book of Job, which discloses a battle between good and evil, God and Satan, with both heavenly and earthly witnesses observing and sometimes playing a role in Job’s struggles.

The question that is constantly being asked throughout the Tanakh is will Israel (as a nation or as individuals) remain obedient to God’s laws, and therefore be recipients of his favor and reward, or will Israel’s enemies (both visible and invisible) triumph, leading the people into sin and bondage? “Salvation” was far more than a limited, earth-bound, worldly concept; in fact, it often tied in directly with salvation from sin, be it Israel’s own sin (or the psalmists own sin), or the sinful attacks of the nations (or Satan).

In this way the concept of salvation in the Old Testament ties in directly with that of the New Testament. When the Messiah arrived, he brought God’s kingdom with him. God’s Spirit was there in power, driving back the hostile forces and setting captives free. To drive the point home that the Messianic era had begun, Jesus quoted from Isaiah (61:1-2; 58:6), which describes salvation holistically, i.e. as affecting spirit, soul and body. Jesus came to bring good news tothe poor, freedom to captives, sight to the blind, and release for the oppressed.

The word primarily used in the New Testament for “salvation” is the Greek word sozo which has a very inclusive and extensive definition: “to rescue, save, deliver, preserve from danger, i.e. death, sin, sickness, demons, hell, peril, etc.” Jesus is described as a Savior (Gr. soter) who forgives, delivers, heals and resurrects, both temporarily and eternally. This correlates with the titles for God in the Hebrew Scriptures—Savior, Deliverer, and Healer of his people.

There is more of an emphasis on the eternal destiny of people in the New Testament than in the Hebrew Scriptures, but this is not so much a contrast as it is a development of the concept of salvation as found in the Hebrew Bible. The Tanakh merely hints about what happens to people after death; the prophet Daniel seems to be the most explicit, introducing the idea of some people awaking to everlasting life and others to everlasting shame and contempt. It was only after Daniel (and before Yeshua) that Jewish writings began to show a real interest in the afterlife, and by the time Yeshua was on the scene, the Pharisees had a fairly developed view about the world to come. The Talmud inherited these views and expanded them with numerous discussions.

Yeshua brought things that had previously been hidden out into the light and helped explain things that had only been partially revealed by expanding and developing concepts found in the Tanakh. Both the Old and New Testaments place great importance on right living, faith in the one true God, repentance, and obedience. While the Hebrew Scriptures tend to emphasize reward and punishment experienced in this world, the New Testament speaks primarily about the world to come; however, neither ignores the other dimension entirely.

Do Jews need saving? Because we are all sinners, yes. All human beings have the option available to them of choosing to do the good, resisting temptation, and saying no to certain sins. Despite this, no one is capable of never sinning. The psalmist knew that well enough, pleading with God: “Do not bring your servant into judgment, for no one living is righteous before you” (Ps. 143:2). Jeremiah knew it too: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). All you have to do is read the history of our people to see how many times we have fallen short of God’s expectations and suffered God’s wrathful judgment (see vol. 1, 1.10, 1.16). We are utterly dependent upon God’s grace and mercy. If God did not forgive us, we would have no hope at all.

For almost two millennia, most of our people have been in exile outside of the land. Why do you think the Temple has been in ruins for more than 1900 years? Do you think that our sin, both past and present, might have something to do with this?

The bad news is that the Jews need to be saved as much as anyone else. The good news is that God has provided for our full salvation through our Messiah, Yeshua, the Savior of Jews and Gentiles alike.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 186-194.

What exactly do you mean by “middleman”? I know that Jesus is often negatively depicted as standing in the way and blocking access to God, but he’s not that kind of middleman.

Do you realize that our ancestors found it helpful to have mediators between them and God? Who do you think the priests and Levites were, if not middlemen? They alone were allowed to perform the necessary services in the Temple. Among them, only the high priest was allowed to enter the Most Holy Place (see Lev. 16:2). There are stories of those who thought they knew better (including a few kings) and tried to usurp the place of the priests and Levites, only to have their pride crushed by God. Israel needed the high priest to present offerings and gifts on behalf of the people. Yeshua is now serving as our high priest by making our gifts and offerings acceptable to God (see vol. 3, 4.1); this is the kind of middleman Yeshua is.

Do you remember what happened when God tried to speak directly to the Israelites on Mount Sinai? They were so terrified that they begged God to let Moses act as their go-between (Exod. 20:18-19). The people of Israel needed priests to atone for their sins and prophets to communicate God’s messages to them because of the awesome holiness of God, which was believed to be deadly if it was approached by someone who was not holy.

Think about the role the rabbi plays for the Jewish community today. He studies and interprets the Torah, explaining what God expects of his people. Many Jews believe that the rabbi represents God and speaks with authority, and some even think his prayers are more likely to be heard by God than those of “ordinary” Jews. Similarly, there are non-religious Jews who rely on religious Jews to present their prayers for them at the Wailing Wall on their behalf.

All human beings need help knowing who God is, what he requires from us, and how we are to relate to him; Jews are no exception. Jesus’ taskas a “middleman” is to bring people into right relationship with God. In fact, he allows us to enter with him into the Most Holy Place, granting us direct access to the holy presence through his blood. We do need a middleman, the kind of middleman that Yeshua is, because without him, we’d be standing outside the door with no way of gaining access. Because of Jesus, however, the door has been flung wide open to welcome us home.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 195-198.

“Judaism does not believe in original sin or a ‘fall’ of the human race. We do not believe that the human race is totally sinful.”

Let me first explain what I mean by “original sin” and the “fall” of the human race. What I don’t mean to imply is that human beings are incapable of doing any good at all and that they can only do evil. On the contrary, I believe that even the wickedest person has some moral qualities. What I mean is that every human being follows in the footsteps of Adam and Eve. The Torah tells us that human beings were created with a free will, capable of obeying God, and that God declared them to be good. Adam and Eve, however, abused this gift of freedom that was given to them, and since that first act of rebellion, sin has spread and affected everything to the point that it is now part of our nature.

No one has to teach children to disobey; it comes quite naturally to them. We are often shocked to think that our children act the way they sometimes do, but the truth is that they often learn that behavior from us, and we learned it from our parents, and our parents from their parents, etc. We all have an inclination to sin. It takes so little effort to do what is wrong, but so much discipline to do what is right. Something has gone very wrong with the human race.

When God finished creating the world and everything in it, he pronounced it all “very good,” but it didn’t take too long before shame, fear, duplicity and denial, followed by jealousy, hatred and even murder to enter into the hearts of human beings. Something happened between God’s pronouncement of “very good” in the first chapter of Genesis and the murder of Abel in chapter four. This “something” that went wrong is what I mean by “the fall” of the human race, which explains (to a degree) all the horrible things that we humans do to one another and to the planet.

Is it God’s fault that sin entered into the world since he gave Adam and Eve free will? By no means! If God had intended us to be evil, he would not have grieved as much over Adam and Eve’s fallas he did. Genesis 6 explains that God was so affected by our sinfulness that he decided to destroy us before we could destroy each other. Even people whom others consider to be good people are capable of doing terrible things that they would be embarrassed and ashamed of if others discovered what they were thinking about or had done in secret. Even the things we intend for good are tinged with pride and self-righteousness. Human nature is fatally flawed and terribly tainted. In the words of Jeremiah,”The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9).

It is the fact that we are created in God’s image that enables us to be moral and to do good and noble things. God has given us a conscience which is supposed to turn us away from evil and help us know what we should do. We are created in the image of God, but that image has been so corrupted that we are more easily identified as children of Adam than as children of God. Nevertheless, God’s Spirit tries to show us the error of our ways and to help us be obedient to God’s law. The Scriptures also encourage us to change our ways. This interior struggle is something that rages inside each and every one of us throughout our lives, unless we have given up altogether and entirely succumbed to evil.

We cannot bring ourselves out of our predicament. No amount of self-improvement is going to change our nature. We may try to live up to God’s standards, but we will fall short again and again. Try living twenty four hours a day without sin, in your thoughts as well as in your deeds, and see how successful you are. Sin seems to have such a stranglehold on us that we have a very difficult time shaking it loose.

The Bible records the history of our people’s constant struggle with sin and God’s response. Even though human beings were just as evil after the flood as they were before the deluge, God kept his promise never to destroy the earth because of sin again (Gen. 8:21). Within days of receiving the Ten Commandments, the Israelites were worshiping the golden calf. Also, remember that only two people from the original wilderness generation were allowed by God to enter the Promised Land. The kings of Israel and Judah, including Saul, David and Solomon, all sinned (some terribly and constantly) in one way or another. In his day, Jeremiah was told to look for one honest person in Jerusalem (Jer. 5:1), but he couldn’t even find one! Neither could Ezekiel find one righteous person (22:30-31). Because of their constant disobedience, God’s people saw their Temple and cities destroyed and were taken away into exile. Even after their return from captivity, God’s people knew little peace since they were constantly living under foreign occupation; this was God’s punishment for their sin. After this, the Temple and Jerusalem were destroyed yet again. Almost two thousand years later, the Temple has still not been rebuilt. Why do you suppose that is?

Even now, as we witness the ongoing miracle of the rebirth of the State of Israel, our moral problems still persist. Atheism, materialism, drug abuse, alcoholism, pornography, prostitution, and abortion all are rampant in the “Holy Land.” Ordinary citizens and religious leaders alike are affected by sin. Very religious Jews have been caught up in financial scandals, and have resorted to using intimidation tactics against their opponents. It is clear that something is fundamentally wrong with our people and that Jews are just as in need of divine help as Gentiles are.

Moral individuals stand out from the crowd, proving to be the exception to the rule, but even these “saints” are very much aware—maybe even more aware than others—of their flaws, sins, and need for atonement.

One of the questions that accompanies the discussion of “original sin” is whether human beings are responsible for their sins if they have inherited their sinful nature from their parents. The traditional Jewish solution to this problem is that although it is impossible for human beings to directly inherit sin, thereby rendering them guiltless, people may be “burdened by the consequences of the wrongdoings of [their] forefathers” (Cohen, Everyman’s Talmud, 96). There is also a traditional Jewish teaching that human beings have to deal constantly with an internal struggle between our good and evil inclinations. People have a tendency to judge others and to think they’re good people, but they often do the very same things as those they are judging, and become adept at justifying their own actions.

Of course, there are Jews who have turned their lives around and started being more faithful observers of the Torah. From an objective standpoint, however, very few of those were deeply entrenched in sin and evil to begin with. The truth of the matter is that Judaism doesn’t have a very strong track record with turning really degenerate lives around. It is difficult to convert hardened sinners. This is not the fault of Judaism, of course; it’s the fault of the human race, which needs God to reach down and save it.

Jesus the Messiah came into the world “to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them” (Heb. 7:5). So many people have experienced the life-transforming truth of this statement by believing in Yeshua. Jesus the Messiah offers us the only way out of our sinful condition. We are called to trust in him and to ask God to forgive our sins because of what he has done on our behalf. As we identify ourselves with his saving death, the sins which once enslaved us begin to lose their power over us; through Yeshua, we can overcome sin. Granted, we’ll never experience complete freedom from sin during this lifetime; nevertheless, we’ll begin to taste the wonderful, holy liberty that will one day be ours forever.

If you’re willing to step away from your denial and acknowledge that we are by nature slaves to sin, Jesus the Messiah can also set you free (John 8:31-32).

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 198-208.

If your objection is true, why do traditional Jews keep celebrating Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement)? If love and good deeds are all that are needed for atonement, suffering, chastisement, prayers and confession are all unnecessary. Do you know any religious Jew who would even consider such things?

How one obtained forgiveness for different kinds of transgressions was a question that generated much discussion among the rabbis, and the decisions that were made demonstrate that even the best actions conducted out of a sense of repentance do not guarantee atonement for all sins. Neither do they do away with the need for the other means of forgiveness put into place by God, especially the Day of Atonement.

As previously mentioned (3.10), the word kipper, found in Proverbs 16:6, can be translated in a variety of ways depending on the context or grammar. This passage takes place in the context of an attempt to address the effects of one’s sins on others. In this instance kipper would best be translated by “wiped away.” Love and good deeds can go a long way in overcoming (wiping away) the hurtful and negative effects of one’s sinful actions.

Proverbs is meant to be a book of down-to-earth advice on how to be faithful to God in everyday living. It’s a very different kind of literature from Leviticus with its detailed descriptions of how particular rituals are to be carried out in order to restore a right relationship with God. In other words, you’re not likely to find the doctrine of atonement in Proverbs, except maybe for wise words on how to “atone” for sins of one human being against another. Furthermore, it’s impossible for a single passage from Proverbs to eliminate the teaching about atonement in the Torah in one fell swoop, especially when this passage can be interpreted in more than one way.

Whatever Proverbs 16:6 is trying to say, it does not go against Moses and it is not rejecting either the annual or the daily sacrifices. Love and good deeds may help clean up the mess that sin creates in our interpersonal relationships, but they can’t satisfy all the claims of justice, whether human or divine.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 123-126.

Followers of Jesus believe that the Son of God is divine and eternal, not created. We believe that he became a human being and was known as Yeshua/Jesus the Messiah. When the term “Son” is used as a designation for Jesus, it is used in a special way. It does not literally refer to the offspring of a male and a female, and does not designate the type of relationship Israel, the king, and the angels enjoyed with God. I want to explore what this term means in its wider biblical use and in relation to Yeshua.

Semitic languages allow for the word “son” (Hebrew ben, Aramaic bar, Arabic ibn) to carry several different meanings; it can refer to both literal and metaphorical offspring (physical son or descendants; followers or disciples). The Bible refers to the Israelite king as the “son of God,” indicating divine adoption. The people of Israel are called God’s (firstborn) son, as are individuals within the nation who prove themselves obedient to God. The angels are also described as “sons of God” (benei ‘elohîm) and share in some of the qualities of God that humans don’t have, such as a spiritual nature rather than a spiritual-corporeal composite nature.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, when someone is called “son” in reference to God, they are understood to have a specific, God-given mission. Since God is the giver of the mission, he is understood to be “Father.” This is one of the meanings behind Jesus’ designation as Son of God; with Israel, he shares in God’s special calling to introduce the God of Israel to the world.

Jesus also shares much with the Davidic kings of Israel, who are described as sons of God. It is important to note that there is a mixture of both adoption and “giving birth” or “begetting” implied in the title when it is used for kings. Psalm 2:7 uses the phrase ‘anîhayyômyelidtîka to describe the origin of the king. (Yalad is the standard Hebrew verb used for a woman giving birth to a baby or a man fathering a child.) Some Christians accept this verse as a direct prophecy of Jesus; others note the connotations for Israel’s kings in general, keeping this in mind when it comes to Jesus’ special designation. The praise, reverence and obedience that are owed to earthly kings (who do not merit as much honor as the Messiah) are minor reflections of the praise, reverence and obedience that are owed to God. Clearly God’s son is understood to be a highly exalted and praiseworthy figure.

All the words in the Hebrew Scriptures associated with worship or adoration of God are also used in reference to the Messiah, the Davidic king. For this reason, the New Testament explains that the same honor is to be given to the Son as to God himself (John 5:23-24; Rev. 5:13). This is in keeping with the respect shown to the Davidic king, and fulfills the promises inthe Psalms that one day, everyone would give glory to God and to his Messiah, the anointed one.

The Midrash Tehillim interprets several psalms and prophecies referring to the Davidic king in ways that have interesting implications for the characteristics of the Messiah. Psalm 2 speaks of a “decree” which leads God to speak of his “son” whom he has “begotten.” The rabbis connect this decree to Exodus 4:22, declaringthat just as Israel is described as God’s firstborn son, so is the Davidic king God’s son. Even though there is no explicit reference to “son” in Isaiah 52:13 and Isaiah 42:1, in which God is introducing his “servant,” the rabbis still draw a connection between the king and the Messiah in what they refer to as the “decree of the Prophets.” The third decree, the “decree of the Writings,” interprets Psalm 110:1, in which God says to the king, “Sit at my right hand.” Jesus made use of this very same psalm to explain that he was more than just David’s son, since David had acknowledged him as “my lord” (see Matt. 22:42-45). Finally, Daniel 7:13 is connected to sonship since it refers to the exaltation of one “like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven”; the rabbis understand this exalted figure to be the Davidic king, the son of God.

All of these texts are commonly used by those who want to point to the uniqueness of Jesus the Messiah, and it is interesting that the rabbis have grouped them together, tying them in with the Davidic king and calling him theson of God. In fact, Rabbi Yudan states explicitly that the words “You are my son . . .” refer to the Messiah. Although some of the good kings in the line of David were justly referred to as “son of God,” it is only Yeshua who fulfills all of the expectations expressed in those passages; he alone sits at God’s right hand, isworshiped and adored by people of every nation and tongue, refersto himself as both “Son of man” and “Son of God,” and promisesa glorious return in the clouds of heaven. In other words, everything that was prophesied in the Tanakh about the Davidic king, the one anointed (mashîah) by the Lord, is fulfilled in Yeshua.

Occasionally, the Hebrew Scriptures (see Ps. 45 and Isa. 9) refer to the anointed king as God (‘elohîm). Although rabbis have often attempted to side-step the awkward implications and maintain that the phrase must refer to God himself, the most natural translation of verse six (seven) is “Your throne, O God,” which is not spoken to God, but to the earthly king! It was only later that this phrase was applied in the full sense to Jesuswho, as the Davidic Messiah, was also’elohîm.

When Jesus the Messiah came into the world, these psalms (which were spoken at the installation of a new king) werefinally fulfilled. God’s Son, who was really God himself (‘elohîm), was also David’s lord. The royal psalms served two functions: (1)they referred to the kings, the earthly sons of David and (2)they are Messianic prophecies, which are only fulfilled by Yeshua. Only when these two truths are held together is justice done to the Hebrew Bible and to history.

Isaiah 9 announces the arrival of a Davidic king whose kingdom would last forever. Though this passage can refer to one of the earthly kings, most interpreters, whether Jewish or Christian, have also understood this to be a Messianic prophecy since none of the earthly kings wholly fulfilled all that the passage promises. I believe that the psalmists and the prophets were sometimes inspired by the Spirit to speak of each Davidic king as if he were the Davidic king, painting a picture for us of who the Messiah would be and what he would do, which gives these texts both an immediate and an ultimate application.

Most of the titles given to the child promised in Isaiah 9 can be explained as somehow appropriately bestowed on a human being, but to speak of a human being as “Mighty God” is difficult to explain. The Targum, with a few grammatical twists and turns, attempts to read all of the titles as referring to God, instead of to the child. But the Talmud (b. Sanhedrin94a) and Abraham Ibn Ezra use the more natural interpretation, assuming that all were meant for the child. Ibn Ezra, however, believed the passage was referring to Hezekiah, translating “Mighty God” as “strong one” or “warrior.” The fact that he ignored the ‘el of ‘el gibbôr altogether, shows hesitation on his part to bestow this title on a human being. Ultimately, this passage points to Jesus.

The Hebrew Bible shows us that the title Son of God would be used in a unique way when applied to the Messiah: he would have divine qualities and in some sense, could really be called divine. Jesus’ designation as Son of God is the fulfillment of the Hebrew Scriptures.

Some people claim that Christians have simply borrowed a pagan myth to come up with the idea of the virgin birth of Jesus, but this is simply not true. Jesus is called the Son of God because he came forth from God the Father and was born to a young Jewish virgin, because he had an intimate and unique relationship with his Father, and because he was the Davidic king. Theologians have attempted to explain the complex implications of Jesus status as God’s son, such as his simultaneous oneness with the Father and his distinction from the Father. There are truths that are above our minds, but this only makes the whole thing even more awesome. In himself, Jesus is perpetually uniting God and man.

Proverbs 30:4 poses a riddle: “Who has gone up to heaven and come down? . . . Who has established all the ends of the earth? What is his name, and the name of his son? Tell me if you know!” I know who it is; do you?

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 38-48.

“According to the Law (Deut. 13), Jesus was a false prophet because he taught us to follow other gods (namely, the Trinity, including the god Jesus), gods our fathers have never known or worshiped. This makes all his miracles utterly meaningless.”

Those who carefully read the New Testament are forced to conclude that Jesus’ whole ministry (and the mission of his followers) was to honor and bring glory to the God of Israel. Jesus was not a false prophet; he directed all people to the Lord.

Jesus’ miracles introduced people to the mercy and power of the one true God, as this passage from Matthew’s Gospel attests: “The people were amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the crippled made well, the lame walking and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel” (Matt. 15:30-31).

Jesus’ teachings also brought glory to God. When asked regarding prayer, Jesus answered: “This, then, is how you should pray: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. . .” (Matt. 6:9-10). Jesus maintained that his whole life was meant to show people the way to God: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).

Those who recognized Jesus for who he truly was offered praise to the God of Israel for keeping his promises, as did Zechariah, the father of John the Immerser, who proclaimed: “Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come and has redeemed his people. He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago) . . .” (Luke 1:68-70).

Does this really sound as thougha new idolatrous religion was being propagated?

The writings of the Jewish followers of Jesus recorded in the New Testament always direct their audiences to the God of Israel and explain how Jesus, the Jewish Messiah, offers to bring Jews and Gentiles into an intimate relationship with God. The mission of those who have been called to follow Jesus is to make the one true God known throughout the world.Were you aware that there are more than 1200 references to God (the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) in the New Testament? Have you fully taken in the fact that Jesus is the most successful and effective Jewish Prophet who has ever walked the earth? Because of him, hundreds of millions of Gentiles now love, adore, worship and serve the God of Israel.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 48-52.

This objection goes totally against the grain of the Jewish tradition; I’ll devote a few paragraphs to pointing out just how central this tenet is to the Jewish faith.

• Here are only two selections from the Talmud on repentance: “Better an hour of repentance and good deeds in this world than a whole lifetime in the world to come” (m. Avot 4:17); “Great is repentance, for it reaches the Throne of Glory; . . . for it brings redemption . . . for it lengthens a man’s life” (b. Yoma 86a).
• Moses Maimonides was so emphatic about the importance of repentance for receiving forgiveness that he devoted a whole section in his Law Code (Mishneh Torah) to learning how to do it correctly. He wrote: “Even a person who was wicked his whole life and repented in his final moments will not be reminded of any aspect of his wickedness” (1:3, as rendered by Touger, Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, 12).
• One of the Eighteen Benedictions, which Traditional Jews recite daily, is specifically dedicated to repentance: “Bring us back, our Father, to Your Torah, and bring us near, our King, to Your service, and cause us to return in complete repentance before You. Blessed are You, O LORD, who desires repentance.”
• Some of the greatest contemporary Jewish thinkers have spent a great deal of time and energy on the subject of repentance, e.g., Rav Soloveitchik, Abraham Isaac Kook, and Solomon Schechter.
• When a secular Jew becomes traditional, he is referred to as a ba’al teshuva, literally, “a master of repentance.” Penitent Jews are accorded the highest respect; the Talmud states, “Where the repentant stand, not even the completely righteous can stand” (b. Berakhot 34b).
• Especially when compared to Eastern religions, Judaism’s emphasis on the centrality of repentance becomes plain. As Jacob Neusner comments, “For Judaism the conception of repentance—regretting sin, determining not to repeat it, seeking forgiveness for it—defines the key to the moral life. No single component of the human condition takes higher priority in establishing the right relationship with God, and none bears more profound implication for this-worldly attitudes and actions” (Jacob Neusner, “Repentance in Judaism,” 61-62).

If you really want a good example of the significance of repentance for religious Jews, I recommend that you go into a Jewish bookstore around Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur; the books on repentance will be flying off the shelves!

Why is it that we Jews, who have been given the great privilege of receiving the Torah, have failed so miserably in our obedience to God’s laws? Instead, we have often distinguished ourselves as being especially obstinate, and so, of all peoples, repentance has been crucial—and precious—to us.

The main message of the prophets can be summarized in one word: “Repent!” Let us heed their advice!

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 208-210.

Judaism has had, and continues to have, many different beliefs about the Messiah. While there is no explicit teaching about the divinity of the Messiah, there are many Jewish traditions that describe the Messiah as superhuman or as having divine characteristics. Even the Talmud, which emerged from the first century to represent the dominant strand of the tradition, offers a variety of interpretations about the Messiah. One of the most important and lengthy Messianic discussions (b. Sanh. 96b-99a) provides a number of different beliefs, some of which have become common (e.g., the Messiah is referred to as the son of David), but others of which have remained obscure. Furthermore, much of what is recorded there is mutually contradictory! In other words, not even the Talmud presents a clear picture of the Messiah. The Talmudic teachings on the Messiah are rather vague because the Talmud is primarily interested in legal rulings, not beliefs.

According to Rav Sa’adiah Gaon, there is a possibility that there will be two Messiahs: the Messiah son of Joseph, associated with a time of victory mixed with hardship and suffering (see b. Sukkah 52a), and the Messiah son of David, who would triumphantly establish God’s kingdom on earth. If Israel remains obedient, however, only one Messiah (the son of David) would be needed since the hardship and suffering that accompany the coming of the Messiah son of Joseph would be bypassed. According to this tradition, the nature of the Messiah(s) partially depends on the spiritual state of Israel when the time of redemption arrives. Sa’adiah Gaon’s view, however, is not well known among Jews today since the view of Moses Maimonides carries so much weight. According to Maimonides, there will be only one Messiah, the son of David. Maimonides’s interpretation has carried so much weight that Sa’adiah Gaon’s interpretation and other traditions have been marginalized.

From the above, it is obvious that it would be overly simplistic to claim, “Judaism doesn’t believe in a divine Messiah,” or “Judaism doesn’t believe the Messiah will come twice.” To which text, expression, or legal authority do these statements refer? There are many different teachings on the Messiah regarding his nature, sufferings, and the timing of his arrival, just as there are different teaching about what the Messianic Age will be like, which makes it difficult to know which of those teachings should be followed.

As far as the divinity of the Messiah goes, you’re right; there is no single source that describes his nature as divine. At the same time, there are sources that refer to the Messiah’s supernatural qualities, which are sometimes called “semi-divine.” Given that the rabbis were aware that Jesus was considered divine, the fact that they cannot seem to get rid of the idea of the Messiah’s divinity altogether indicates that the scriptural evidence in that direction is too strong to completely ignore. Plus, the longer our people waited to be rescued by the Messiah, the more exalted a figure he became in their eyes.

The Tanakh lays the foundation for understanding the Messiah to be divine. Furthermore, different expressions of the Jewish tradition allow for the Messiah to have semi-divine qualities. Because I discuss some other angles on this topic in other sections (see 3. 2 and 3.3), here I will simply explore a few of the key texts from both traditional Jewish sources and the Hebrew Bible to see what they have to say about the Messiah’s divinity.

Traditional Jewish literature is so expansive that it is often called the “sea of the Talmud.” There’s always the possibility of pulling out obscure, random texts to support almost any position. Instead of following this method, I’m going to limit my search to a widely known and respected text, the midrash to Isaiah 52:13, which reads: “See my servant will act wisely; he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.”

The midrash on this passage grants the Messiah a very prominent position higher than Abraham, Moses, and even the angels! The language of exaltation and being lifted up used in this passage to refer to the Messiah can be found elsewhere in the Prophet to describe God himself. Some who have commented on this midrash, including Rabbi Don Yitshaq Abravanel, are surprised that the Messiah, a human being, is described in such exalted language. They are also very aware that such an interpretation could be used by Christians to justify raising a human being to the level of God, which is why they believed it was necessary to give an adequate explanation of this midrash. But it wasn’t only the “heretics” who read more into this passage than seemed appropriate; traditional Jewish commentators (e.g. Moshe Ibn Crispin) did too, attributing superhuman intelligence to the Messiah, which is their explanation of why the Messiah is described as being higher than the angels.

There are some Jewish traditions that grant a preexistence to the Messiah (or his name), and others that speak about his coming on the clouds of heaven. When these are combined with the traditions describing the Messiah’s supernatural qualities, it’s easy to see how the Messiah could be understood as a greatly exalted, even semi-divine figure.

There are several key texts in the Hebrew Bible that lend credence to the highly exalted stature of the Messiah. Psalm 2:7, in which the Davidic king, the anointed one, is referred to as God’s son, draws on the following passages:

• Exodus 4:22, in which Israel is called God’s firstborn son;
• Isaiah 52:13 and Isaiah 42:1, in which the servant is held up as exemplary;
• Psalm 110:1, which includes “The LORD said to my lord, ‘sit at my right hand,'” and which describes the Messiah as greater than David;
• Daniel 7:13, in which the prophet sees the “son of man coming with the clouds of heaven.”

Does the passage from Daniel (7:13-14) prove the Messiah’s divinity? Not necessarily, but it does depict him as more than human. The verses that immediately precede this passage refer to two thrones that were set in place, and there has been much discussion among the sages as to whose thrones those were. Was one throne for God and the other for the Messiah? Was there one for grace and one for justice? Or was there actually only one throne while the other “throne” was really a footstool? No matter how one approaches the text, if this passage does refer to the Messiah, the implication is that the Messiah is more than merely human.

In light of all this, I submit to you something wonderful and profound: Through the Messiah, God himself has reached out to us, committing himself totally to our redemption and salvation. In another section (3.23), I discuss the suffering of the Messiah. His exaltation and his suffering manifest the depths and lengths God has gone to reach out to us in Yeshua. If you carefully and prayerfully consider the evidence, you will understand that he alone fulfills the Messianic expectations of the prophets of Israel and that he alone fulfills the Messianic dream; we could hope for no greater Messiah than him.

It is unfortunate that in our day, thousands of Lubavitcher Jews (Chabad) perpetuate the claim that their deceased Grand Rabbi, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Rebbe, is actually “King Messiah.” Some even speak of him as if he incarnated God and refer to the Rebbe as the “Essence of the Infinite,” or even “The Master of the Universe.” Of course, other Orthodox Jews have expressed their disagreement of Chabad’s use of this terminology for their leader, but this terminology demonstrates that incarnational language for the Messiah is not completely foreign to Jewish thinking. It is ironic, however, that these groups refuse to allow the same concepts to be attached to Yeshua, claiming that the New Testament concepts of the Messiah’s divinity are offensive to them.

Chabad hasthe right concepts but the wrong candidate! Jesus alone fits the bill and fulfills the biblical description of the Messiah. He is our divine Messiah, the ideal righteous King, the one whose death is powerful enough to pay for the sins of the whole world (see 3.15).

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 210-220.

“Judaism is a healthy religion, properly oriented to the here and now. It doesn’t see the world as intrinsically evil, or denounce marriage or call for self-renunciation. Christianity, on the other hand, is unhealthy in its orientation, seeing the world as evil, advocating celibacy, and saying: ‘Deny yourself, take up your cross, and suffer.'”

I think the best way to answer your objection is to divide it into three parts. First, I’ll consider what the Scriptures and traditional literature have to say about the nature of this world and the one that is to come. After that, we’ll see how these views have been translated into daily living. Finally, we’ll think about whether the way of life fostered by the New Testament makes sense in the light of eternity.

The eschatological realities after death, i.e. the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come, were only gradually revealed by God to his people, so it’s not that surprising to see that the Hebrew Scriptures tend to focus on this world rather than the next. Still, there seems to be a very good understanding of the transient nature of life in this world, captured with the image of grass that withers or fades or is gone and remembered no more (e.g., Ps. 103; Isa. 40:6-8). Both the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament describe the temporary nature of this life with the image of a journey or pilgrimage and compare us tostrangers or aliens (Gen. 47:9; 1 Chron. 29:15; 1 Pet. 1:17b).

Rabbinic Judaism has much to say about the transience of this life and often speaks of the life to come. From the time of Daniel, elaborate and extensive descriptions of heaven and hell were developed in Jewish sources. Still, Judaism tends to place more of an emphasis on life here and now, but this does not mean that the afterlife is unimportant in Judaism. The importance of living in this world with an eye toward the world to come, however, has been challenged by secular and rational thinking, the Holocaust, and persecution by the church (which has led Jews to rebel against Christian ideas of heaven and hell).

You suggest that the different emphases of the two religions, Judaism’s focus on the here and now and Christianity’s concentration on the world to come, has an effect on the way lives are shaped, and you maintain that in the case of Christianity, this effect is negative and unhealthy. Although Christianity has produced some extreme examples of very strange behavior, this is not the norm. Jesus did not advocate these practices (e.g. living in caves, or on top of a pillar) when he commanded his followers to deny themselves.

While it is true that the Roman Catholic Church, following Paul’s thought (see 1 Cor. 7), requires its priests and nuns to be celibate, the vast majority of Christians (including Catholics) are married. The practice of not marrying was advocated by Paul given the crisis situation the church found itself in at the time (1 Cor. 7:26). Remember that God commanded Jeremiah to abstain from marriage and having children for similar reasons (see Jer. 16:1-4). Paul expected most Christians, including church leaders, to be married (see 1 Tim. 3:1-5; Titus 1:6), and to enjoy this world and the things in it, recognizing that everything God has made is good and should be accepted with thanksgiving (1 Tim. 4:3-5).

Granted, there are some Christians who choose not to marry and have children so that they can concentrate more fully on their particular vocations, but this actually allows them to engage more fully with the world around them, rather than leaving them with an otherworldly focus. The Talmud relates the example of Ben Azzai, who never married so that he could dedicate himself to Torah study (b. Yebamot 63b), which clearly indicates that this is not a practice unique to Christianity.

Yes, followers of Jesus are aware that we are “strangers” here on earth (living in exile), waiting to go to our true home, but we believe that we should live out our pilgrimage on earth as practically and fully as we can. Jesus has called his followers to be the “light of the world” and the “salt of the earth,” to “let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matt. 5:13-16). Christianity has led the way in humanitarian efforts around the world. I encourage you to read D. James Kennedy and Jerry Newcombe’s “What if Jesus Had Never Been Born?” to get an idea of how many ways Christianity has positively impacted the world; the list is incredible!

Providing health care and emergency help, establishing relief organizations to provide food and practical help in the face of natural and man-made disasters, caring for refugees (including helping tens of thousands of Jewish refugees to return to the land of Israel!), establishing universities and colleges and other centers of education, abolishing slavery, protecting the life of the unborn, producing beautiful music and art, civilizing, pacifying and reconciling hostile groups, feeding the poor, setting up shelters, advocating traditional family values, advocating the rights of women and minorities, and encouraging scientific and medical research, Christians have been at the forefront of humanitarian development. Far from being unhealthy or focusing totally on the world to come, Christianity has had a far-reaching positive effect on this world.

There’s no question that many Jews are also actively involved in acts of charity and other good deeds, and I know that Jews are known and appreciated for their humanitarian acts around the world, but it seems to me that the more religious Jews become, the less focused on this world they are. Those who have the greatest impact on society tend to be the ones who would be considered less observant. Rather than trying to improve society, it seems like the most observant Jews prefer to devote most of their time and energy to studying the Talmud. I know that the most Orthodox Jews—called haredim in Israel—care almost nothing about developing life in this world, unless it pertains to bringing Jews into a Talmudic lifestyle. Where is the “this-worldliness” among the very Orthodox? What normally happens to traditional Judaism outside of a cloistered environment? It becomes assimilated!

Let’s get back to the original question: Does following Jesus lead to an unhealthy obsession with the life to come? Absolutely not! The New Testament advocates relationships and deeds that help to make life better for everyone here and now.

Does the New Testament approach to life make sense in the light of eternity? If you believe in the resurrection of the dead, the answer to this question must be yes!

There are lots of parallels between the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament regarding the way we approach this world. Both agree that every good thing comes from God and that we are meant to enjoy these gifts. Both also realize just how easy it is for us to place our trust in the things of this world, such as money, and to desire more than we have. They both want us to be aware of the shortness of life, to acknowledge the certainty of death, and to make the most of our time here. Both the Tanakh and the New Testament recognize the importance of this world in and of itself, but it is the New Testament, with its greater revelation of the nature of the world to come, that tends to place greater emphasis on viewing this earthly life as a preparation for the life to come. This emphasis is not entirely absent from Judaism, since it is also captured by the Rabbinic phrase, “this world is the corridor to the world to come” (see m. Avot 4:16).

We should learn from the story of Esau, who gave up his birthright for something to eat, thereby satisfying his momentary desires and forfeiting long term rewards. There are two possible fates that face us when we depart this world: eternal bliss in the presence of God, or eternal misery because we’ve been shut out from his presence. Knowing this should influence the way we live our lives here and now, and this is what the New Testament teaches.

One of the prominent images of this life presented in the New Testament is that of a battleground; followers of the Messiah are called to serve as God’s soldiers, giving up their lives to help a dying world. Life in this world is portrayed as a constant spiritual war (2 Tim. 2:3; Eph. 6:10-18; see also Ps. 144) that requires Christians to deny themselves, die to sin and, whether living or dying, do everything with the goal of glorifying God (Matt. 16:24; Luke 9:22; Rom. 6:1-23; Phil. 1:20-21). Just as throughout the centuries, religious Jews have been willing to die for kiddushhashem so as to sanctify God’s name, so too do the followers of Jesus devote themselves to those who are lost without God, even if it costs them their lives. Jesus has called us not to be served, but to serve (Matt. 20:17-28; Phil. 2:5-11).

Christianity does not share Judaism’s optimism that this world can be made sacred and holy. It does, however, insist that much suffering can be relieved here and now, even while people are being prepared for the world to come. While I do not deny that Judaism has done much to dignify and elevate human life and death, Christianity has definitely done so. In fact, it has offered more humanitarian aid and assistance than all other religions combined! The idea of denying oneself—even to the point of giving one’s life—is a good thing if it can bring goodness and life to a dying world, wouldn’t you agree?

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 235-248.

“Christianity calls on its followers to have unnatural emotions and feelings, even commanding Christians to love their enemies. This is contrary to Torah as well as contrary to human nature.”

Traditional Judaism encourages a person to sublimate his evil intentions and cultivate his good intentions. Because we have tendencies toward evil as well as tendencies toward good within us, it is difficult to determine what counts as “natural” behaviors (or emotions) for us. Because our natures have been corrupted, maybe it’s not such a good idea to do what comes naturally. It could be that what feels unnatural to us as sinners, is precisely that which God desires from us if we are to be godly.

The New Testament speaks about this dichotomy in us in terms of “flesh” and “spirit,” and it promises that by relying on God’s Spirit we can obey Jesus’ command to deny ourselves and say no to the sinful desires of the flesh. Saying no to things like revenge, lust, anger or greed may feel unnatural in the beginning, but with time and practice, this denial in favor of taking the higher, spiritual road can gradually become natural. Even what seems to be a most unnatural practice—forgiving one’s enemies—can begin to be something we are capable of and want to do.

Is Jesus going against the Scriptures when he commands forgiveness of enemies? While there are places in the Tanakh where God calls the nation of Israel to punish its enemies, no one would assume that those passages in which the Israelites were commanded to kill the Canaanites (or Amalekites, etc.) should be taken as instructions for similar action (i.e. killing all the irreligious in a community) today.

There are many passages throughout the Hebrew Bible in which God calls his people to treat their enemies kindly, to drop their grudges, and to let God handle the situation. Here is one example: “Do not hate your brother in your heart. Rebuke your neighbor frankly so you will not share in his guilt. Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD” (Lev. 19:17-18). Proverbs instructs, “If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this you will heap burning coals on his head, and the LORD will reward you” (Prov. 25:21-22). This passage was used by Paul in the New Testament to encourage followers of Jesus to live according to his commands (see Rom. 12:17-21).

If Jesus had cursed his enemies while on the cross, would that make you think more of him than you think of him now, knowing that he asked God to forgive them because they didn’t know what they were doing? Certainly the “natural” response of an innocent person unjustly condemned to death is to lash out in anger. It is “supernatural” to forgive as Jesus did. Jesus calls us to this type of forgiveness when he says, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:27-28).

It was while we were still sinners that Jesus decided to die for us (Rom. 5:6), and his “unnatural,” unconditional love provides the example by which we are to live. The New Testament calls us to take the higher ground. When it does this, it is merely building on what is already there in the Tanakh. Because this kind of behavior is unnatural for us, Jesus promises to help us as we try to live it out. Those of us who have taken Yeshua at his word have found that his way is the best wayand that it frees us from our destructive attitudes and fosters holy sentiments within us that are in accord with God’s heavenly kingdom.

Goodness and justice are only natural for God, but he still calls us to continue to acquire the virtues of mercy, compassion, kindness and goodness to such a degree that they become “second-nature” to us. It is really exciting when these virtues and qualities start to become natural! People may question what we do, but God’s approval is the only thing that matters.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 248-252.

“The only thing that keeps a lot of people in the Christian faith—including Jews—is a fear of hell.”

I happen to know a lot of followers of Jesus—both Jews and Gentiles—and I cannot think of one who continues to follow Jesus primarily because of the fear of hell, let alone only because of the fear of hell. We follow him because we love him. The one who loves will do anything for the beloved! Being loved is a great motivation for loving others in return. As the New Testament explains: “We love because [God] first loved us” (1 John 4:19). Our deep love for God and for others arises from the forgiveness that we have been granted through the death of Jesus the Messiah. Being forgiven and being loved by God sets us free for joy, for love, and for service. I can’t say enough about God’s grace, mercy, and love that have been extended to me through Jesus. I second Paul’s declaration that everything else is rubbish compared to knowing Jesus the Messiah (Phil. 3:7-8).

Having said that, it is important to understand that there is such a thing as a healthy “fear of the Lord.” This is a very Jewish theme. The Hebrew Bible explains that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom and knowledge (Ps. 111:10; Prov. 1:7; 9:10; Job 28:28), an antidote to sin (Exod. 20:20; Prov. 16:6), the key to long life and blessing (Ps. 34:11-22; Prov. 10:27; 14:27), and a rich treasure (Isa. 33:6). Love is the best motivator for service, but because we are still struggling with sin, our tendency toward disobedience needs to be kept in check and we need to be reminded that there are consequences for failing to live according to God’s laws. The entire Bible is filled with warnings about the dangers of sin, and we need these warnings in order to strive for holiness. It’s a good thing to want to avoid hell!

I could turn the question around and ask, “Which religion really emphasizes fear as a motivation for serving God?” One very striking image that readily comes to my mind is that of a well-known midrash in which God is holding Mt. Sinai over the heads of the Israelites, threatening to bury them if they do not accept his covenant (Exod. 24:3, b. Shabbat 88a). Moreover, I’ve been in debates with anti-missionary Jews who were trying to get me to deny Jesus out of fear of eternal punishment for idolatry. One ultra-Orthodox Jew even told me that if I had been living in biblical times, the Sanhedrin would have poured burning metal down my throat! My love for God keeps me from being intimidated by this kind of talk.

I wish that you knew Yeshua like I do, because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to keep from loving him too. He wants you to trust him, to become his friend, to sit with him and eat and drink what he has to offer you. There’s plenty of room at his table, and I guarantee you that you won’t regret it.

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 252-256.

“To be perfectly honest, I find much beauty in the teachings of Jesus, and I think that there are some good arguments in favor of Christianity. But I find it impossible to believe in a religion that damns all people to hell—including many moral, good, kind, and sensitive people, not to mention countless millions of very religious Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists—simply because they don’t believe in Jesus. I can’t follow a religion whose God will torture people in flames forever for not believing in someone they never even heard of.“

The world is not the way God created it to be, but is filled with sin and suffering. Furthermore, since the first act of disobedience, every generation has turned away from God, putting other things and other gods in his place. Sin has totally affected this world and it has an effect on the world to come. There must be some way in which those who have done terrible things to others or blatantly rejected God in this life without suffering any apparent consequences will face God’s justice. Yeshua warned of the day when all would be resurrected, when some will be rewarded with eternal life whereas others will face condemnation (John 5:28-29).

Regarding the fate of those who have never heard about Jesus, it sounds like your idea of Christianity might be somewhat off balance. The Messianic Jewish faith of the New Testament is bent on one goal: to share the good news with the world that Jesus the Messiah has come so that everyone might receive forgiveness, regardless of their background or past.

There is not a single person who can earn the right to enter God’s kingdom; every single one of us has sinned and has fallen short of God’s expectations for us. All of us, Jews and Gentiles alike, have broken the first and most important commandment: “To love the Lord with all our heart, soul, strength.” All over the world, people have created and worshiped other gods, trying to find God according to our own plans and patterns, often causing a lot of destruction along the way. If God were not merciful, not a single one of us would be saved.

The good news is that God came to find us. He sent us Yeshua, who atoned for our sins and paid for them all with his blood; this is the expression of the heavenly Father’s heart, broken with pain over a sinning, dying world, and it is this same love that motivates the followers of Jesus to go out into the world to tell others about him and about the pardon and reconciliation that are available through him.

Yeshua, the Savior of the world, has accomplished what our own Jewish traditions (as beautiful as many of them are) are incapable of doing and what no other religion of the world has ever succeeded in doing: he has purchased our pardon, secured our right-standing with God, and provided us with a new heart; this is why we are so eager to share him with others, and it’s also why we pray and fast for our friends and loved ones.

The Bible (and the Rabbinic writings) warn us of a future judgment, and whatever “hell” is, believe me, you don’t want to go there! At the same time, there is no reason to worry, since you don’t have to be judged guilty and suffer the eternal consequences. God can forgive you through Jesus the Messiah. As for those who haven’t yet heard of Jesus, neither you nor I will be their judge; this is God’s prerogative (for more on this subject, see vol. 1, 1.10). What you do have control over, however, is your own response to the gospel message.

If you had to stand before God this day to account for your life, how would you do? Do you think you’ve earned the right to enter into heaven? Fortunately, Jesus has been judged in our place so that we can be healed and delivered from guilt and from the power of sin. If you have come to believe that Yeshua is indeed the Messiah promised to our people, then I encourage you to surrender to our heavenly Father right now and to call on him in prayer, admitting your need to repent, letting God hear that you believe Yeshua died so that your sins could be forgiven, and asking God to cleanse, forgive, and welcome you as one of his children. He will help you to hold onto your faith in his Son as he guides you through your brand new life, which is the beginning of eternal life. After this, I would encourage you to seek out other followers of Jesus and let them know that you too have come to faith and are ready to live for God according to his word.

Perhaps you are not yet ready to pray for forgiveness because you are still wrestling with doubts and questions, or are still not quite ready to repent of your sins. Don’t give up! Continue to search, question, and study, and keep struggling with your sinfulness. God has promised that whoever searches for him with his whole heart will not be disappointed (Deut. 4:29; Jer. 29:13). God always tells the truth!

It is my fervent hope that you will find no good reason to reject Jesus, and every good reason to receive him as your Messiah and Master and Friend. As Moses said to our people many years ago, “This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before youlife and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him” (Deut. 30:19-20a). I pray that you too will choose life!

For the full answer, see Answering Jewish Objections to Jesus, vol. 2, pp. 256-263.