My Take on Gentile Inclusion - Helpful Parallels

In my view, the Torah provides two pictures to help us understand Gentile inclusion into the commonwealth of Israel and the covenants of promise (Ephesians 2:12). 

• First: Jacob's adoption of Ephraim and Manasseh. 
• Second: the mixed multitude's presence at Sinai. 

Picture 1:

In Genesis, Joseph has two sons during his residence in Egypt (i.e., the Gentile world). Their names are Ephraim and Manasseh. Ephraim and Manasseh (E&M) are Gentiles according to Jewish law because their mother was a Gentile. And growing up in Egypt, E&M knew only the Gentile version of Joseph. They knew little of their father's Jewishness. They knew, perhaps, that his Jewish brothers had rejected him, had put him in the ground, had sold him for silver, had passed him off to the Gentile world, had vetoed his place among the family. Indeed, E&M may have esteemed their father's Jewish roots to be of very little worth to them. 

Fast forward. 

Jacob Israel adopts Ephraim and Manasseh as sons of his own. With a careful read of Genesis 48, the cosmic curtain pulls back to give you a peek into the truths revealed later in Romans 11. How so? Because in Genesis 48, Israel tells Joseph that his sons "are mine, as Rueben and Simeon are." In other words, Israel grafts Jospeh's Gentile sons into his Jewish family as if they were his own – and not only that, but he elevates them to a firstborn position (as Rueben and Simeon are)! Catch the undercurrent here: Israel the father pictures God the Father; Joseph the son pictures Jesus the Son; E&M picture us Gentiles being grafted into the house of Israel due our connection to Jesus.

Later in Exodus, the sons and daughters of Ephraim and Manasseh leave behind everything they have ever known. They leave Egypt and all its trappings to travel alongside the families of Jacob. They journey to a place entirely unknown to them. They are nevertheless determined: they belong to Israel now, not to Egypt – even though their fathers E&M never once left the Gentile world! The tribes of E&M represent us Gentiles who find our place among the family of Abraham. We are not Jewish to be clear, but we do inherit the covenants of promise and the commonwealth of Israel. Recall, Jacob didn't adopt Ephraim and Manasseh. Israel adopted them. From this we derive an insight: we Gentiles are not the sons of Jacob (i.e., Jews), but we are the sons of Israel – products of the one who wrestled with God and persevered, albeit with a limp.

Picture 2:

At Sinai God gave His Torah to the Israelites, and hearing this, we tend to think of the Jews only, and no one else. But what about the great mixed multitude that went out of Egypt with the Jews? Those Gentiles who saw the judgement of Egypt and recognized that the God of the Hebrews was, indeed, the one true God. Maybe they put the blood on their doorposts; maybe they lost a firstborn son. Whatever the case may be, they left Egypt behind and bet their lives on a new way forward. 

I believe this mixed multitude represented every nation on earth. How can I say this? Because Genesis 41:56 says a great famine was over "all the face of the land." The whole civilized world was affected by this famine. Egypt became the best-known place to go for food. Some hungry travelers came and went; others came and stayed. I believe God used a global famine to bring people of every nation into Egypt so that, in time, He could pinch away a sample of the world and bring them to Sinai. 

No matter what happened, we know a great mixed multitude was present at the foot of Sinai. They, too, had a Pentecost experience when God gave them the Torah. These Gentiles came to see themselves as partakers in the covenants of promise, members of the commonwealth of Israel. God didn't just give His Torah to Jews; He gave it to Gentiles too. He gave it to His assembly, the kahal, the sons of Israel. 

Final Thoughts: 

These two pictures color my thinking as it pertains to Gentile inclusion. Remember, the New Covenant was made not with Gentiles but with the house of Israel (Jeremiah 31:31-33). The way we Gentiles enter into the New Covenant is by being grafted in to the house of Israel. 

With that said, I look at the elders in Acts and I appreciate the wisdom of their light-handed approach to things regarding the Gentiles. Leading with grace and patience, they leave the coming together of Jews and Gentiles so open ended. In Acts 15, they prescribe four basic laws which work to get Gentiles into a synagogue in such a way they don't offend their Jewish counterparts. Once in the synagogue, Gentile believers would hear Scripture read (no New Testament at the time), they would learn about God and His commandments, and they would learn more about their Messiah in the context of God's great redemption plan. Where they went from there would a personal journey, but that journey was always seen as being downstream of God's blood covenant with Abraham.  

Buried Treasure: Rachel’s Last Call for Confession

There’s a treasure of a story beneath the surface narrative of Genesis 31-35. It’s quiet though, buried between and underneath details, so we’ll have to look carefully to uncover its existence. 

The characters in focus are Jacob, Rachel, and Laban. We join the plot as Jacob prepares to flee his father-in-law (Laban) in secret. Jacob will take with him a caravan of family members, servants, animals and possessions. Little does he realize, his beloved wife Rachel is about to steal her father’s idols and bring them along with the caravan.

Alone in Laban’s dwelling, a question must cross Rachel’s mind as she pockets her father’s idols. “How am I going to get away with this?” she thinks, as do all thieves. Rachel realizes that Laban will soon discover his idols are missing, and he will link their disappearance to Jacob. But Rachel reasons with herself: No, Laban won’t go so far as to pursue us into the hills. Laban is more likely to replace the idols and leave the matter alone. 

Why does Rachel take her father’s idols? Of the six potential motives I’ve come across, this is the one I find most convincing. 

Dennis Prager puts it well: “Rachel surely believed in the God of Jacob, but she might well have still believed in the power of idols with which she grew up. When people believe in many visible gods, it takes a very long time to get them to believe in one invisible God. Rachel’s behavior may have been like that of Neils Bohr, the Nobel-prize winning physicist who was said to keep a rabbit’s foot in his laboratory. When an astonished visitor asked, ‘But surely, professor, you don’t believe in a rabbit’s foot?’ Bohr responded, ‘Of course not. But they say a rabbit’s foot brings you luck whether you believe in it or not.’”

Rachel is desperate to have a child (Gen. 30:1), and later desperate to have a second child. Prager points out that Rachel may have taken the idols because she was open to utilizing all means necessary to procure her goal, including mandrakes, Jacob’s God, and perhaps also the gods from her father’s household. This point, I believe, explains Rachel’s motivation in the most satisfying way. 1) She’s an anxious person by nature, 2) She is desperate to have children, and 3) She’s hedging her bets.

Ten days after leaving, the unexpected happens. Laban catches up to Jacob’s caravan and confronts Jacob about the disappearance of his idols. Jacob is disgusted by the accusation. In response, Jacob wishes death upon the thief. He tells Laban, “Anyone with whom you find your gods shall not live!” (31:32).

Now Jacob occupies a unique position to bless and curse others because he has inherited God’s promise to Abraham. God promised, “I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse” (12:3). This thief has brought dishonor to Jacob’s name, so Jacob returns curse with curse, and his terms are harsh. His words wash over Rachel like ice water.

Dennis Prager comments, “We are all occasionally tempted to make these types of grandiose avowals, but they are risky and rarely necessary. Jacob’s statement turns out to be highly risky—and unnecessary, as it does not deter Laban from searching the tents in Jacob’s camp.” Even more than risky and unnecessary, it is harmful because, in this moment, Rachel cements the secrecy of her sin. Suddenly it threatens her very life. “Her husband’s condemnation is so strong that the possibility of her ever admitting the truth to him is here and now smothered.”

The search begins. Laban starts with his top suspects: Jacob, then Leah, then the two maidservants. His youngest daughter, Rachel, is the least suspected of all, so he searches her tent last. 

As he closes in on her, I am reminded of Achan in Joshua 7.

• Just as Achan took from Jericho “some of the devoted things,” Rachel has taken from Laban some of his devoted things. 
• Just as Achan endured an agonizing countdown before being singled out in front of his family, so too Rachel endures an agonizing countdown as Laban gets closer and closer her and her secret. 
• Just as Achan hid the stolen gold and silver in the ground beneath his tent, now Rachel hides the stolen idols in a saddle beneath her in a tent. 

Of course, death was Achan’s sentence. If discovered, what will come of Rachel? 

As Laban enters her tent, Rachel tells him, “Let not my lord take it amiss that I cannot rise before you, for the period of women is upon me.” Laban takes Rachel at her word. It would be, as Prager says, “inconceivable to him that Rachel would risk menstruating on his gods,” so he does not look under her cushion. Instead, he exits the tent empty-handed, and Rachel, believing she is off the hook, breathes a sigh of relief. 

But is she really off the hook? 

We read that after Jacob and Laban part ways, Jacob arrives safely at the city of Shechem and buys some adjacent land (33:18-19). Not long after, a crazy series of events transpires (Genesis 34). As a result, the women and children of Shechem fall under Jacob’s authority (34:27-29). Jacob wants to vacate the area because he is concerned the neighboring Canaanites will seek vengeance and attack his family (34:30). God gives him directions to go to Bethel. Jacob obeys. But before he leaves, Jacob commands all who are with him to give up their idols. He does not want any foreign god to join them on their journey to Bethel. 

The widows of Shechem approach Jacob as commanded and, one by one, discard their idol. The question is – is Rachel still harboring Laban’s idols? And if so, does she bring them forward? Because this is her opportunity to do so! In fact, it may well be her last call for confession, because Genesis tells us her death is just around the corner. 

The Bible doesn’t tell us what Rachel does with the idols. We as readers are given no closure in this regard. Laban’s idols are last seen with Rachel sitting on them in her tent, as she guards her sin from everyone around her. What happens to the idols after that moment remains a mystery to this day. 

Nevertheless, here’s a way to demystify the story with a measure of plausibility. We teleport ourselves to that afternoon. There, with Jacob and pregnant Rachel standing next to us, we watch the Shechemite women – widow after widow after widow – step forward to hand over their household idol. What is not so obvious is that Rachel envies their ability to surrender such things. She thinks about the idols that remain in her secret possession. They are stowed away among her belongings. She has come to resent them in a way, yet she remains extremely protective of the saddle they stay inside. She is pregnant, after all, and miscarriages are common.

Believing all idols to have been handed over, Jacob buries them under a terebinth tree near Shechem. His caravan then sets out, traveling southward. The caravan makes a stop in Bethel before it travels onward to Bethlehem. Along the way Rachel gives birth to a son. She names the baby Benoni, “son of my sorrow.” She then dies unexpectedly during childbirth.

Okay – here is the question, a question that can’t be answered with certainty but a question that still merits some consideration. Is Rachel’s premature passing a result of the declaration Jacob pronounced over her life without realizing it? Recall, Jacob said the thief who stole Laban’s idols would not live. At the time, he did not know upon whom the curse would fall. Even still, his words carry the weight of God’s promise to Abraham, that “whoever dishonors you I will curse” (Gen. 12:3). And then, given Rachel’s failure to confess and seek correction, had Rachel unknowingly sealed its lethal effect?

Her departing words express sadness as she names her son Benoni. We would assume this is because she knows she is dying, but we might also wonder: what if her sorrow is made worse by unresolved guilt? She knows that Laban’s idols still hide in a pouch inside her tent. She knows that Jacob will discover them over the course of time, but perhaps she takes this knowledge to the grave. 

Jacob buries Rachel’s body along the road to Bethlehem, places a rock over her grave, then journeys on with their newborn child (now motherless). Genesis 35:21-22 describes that dark period. Rabbi Samson Hirsch, a giant in Jewish circles writing 150 years ago, translates the Hebrew of verse 21 in a way that renders an insight. “[Jacob] journeyed on and pitched his tent at some distance from the herd tower.” 

What is the meaning of this detail: at some distance from the herd tower? Hirsch writes, “It is possible the tent pitched by Jacob is the tent that Jacob formerly shared with Rachel. Thus, the meaning would be Jacob pitched the tent he once shared with Rachel at some distance from the herd tower, the tower around which the rest of his family camped.” 

So to say, Jacob withdraws from the rest of his family due to his grieving Rachel. Whereas Jacob resided among them while Rachel was alive, he now withdraws from them in the days or weeks after her death. And it is during his absence that Jacob’s oldest son Rueben makes a move on Jacob’s concubine.

We can imagine a moment during this timeframe. It might have gone like this: A servant breaks off from the camp and travels over to Jacob’s tent, a tent distant and isolated. The servant goes in to tell Jacob about the outrageous act committed by his oldest son Rueben. Jacob is angry, but too detached and exhausted to seek immediate action. At first the servant cannot understand why. But then Jacob gestures toward a pouch folded in the dark corner of the tent. He goes to it. From the bag, the servant pulls several carved objects into the firelight. The objects are unmistakable. The objects are Laban’s idols. 

This is the story that’s buried beneath the surface narrative of Genesis 31-35, at least the way I read it. Now I can’t tell you with certainty it happened just the way I’ve described it. Nevertheless, I can’t help but enjoy how this telling adds color to the story in a way that feels real without contradicting the concrete details.  

Ultimately, we are left with a question that cannot be answered. What if, following the burial of Rachel, Jacob stumbled upon his beloved wife’s long-held secret? If such a thing happened, well then perhaps Jacob, wide eyed and white faced, called to mind the curse he so rashly blurted out over the thief’s life in a moment of anger.  

Genesis 26: A Flashback?

Go with me for a second. What if Genesis 26 is backstory? A flashback to a previous time? 

I know you’re skeptical because the narrative doesn’t typically stray from linear time, but there are exceptions. For instance, Exodus 10:27-29 & 11:4-8 are out of order. The former seems to occur after the latter takes place. Another example is found in Genesis 2. Verses 1-3 tell about Day 7 of creation, but then verses 4-25 go back to revisit Day 6 with more detail. All to say, revisiting something from the past is rare but it happens in the Torah. And I figure, if I––a mere human writer––can use flashback to enrich a storyline, why can’t my God?

You’re not convinced. Maybe because there are questions left to answer. Like, why would God break from the forward flow of Genesis to visit an earlier time?

I will make the case but first things first. What is flashback?

Flashback is a literary device used to create a background to the present situation. An author uses this device as an opportunity to provide insight and meaning within the story at hand. Flashback is one of the most common and recognizable writing techniques, and, when executed well, one of the most effective.

There is generally a trigger, something that causes the narrator to recall a particular event or detail from the past. The trigger is explored/explained in the flashback. The flashback provides new or important information that makes the central plot more meaningful. With this in mind, let me make the case that Genesis 26 is a flashback. 

Genesis 26 tells the story of Isaac and Rebekah living among the Philistines for a long time (26:8). Despite the length of their stay, no mention is made of their twin boys, Jacob and Esau. Their boys appear to be no factor at all. While Isaac publicly treats Rebekah like his sister, not one Philistine ever says, “By the way, who do these twin boys belong to?” Isaac and Rebekah’s whole charade appears to be uncomplicated by kids. Their togetherness remains a total secret and, somehow, they manage to get away with it for years. 

Of course, if we read Genesis 26 as a flashback, this is easy to explain. When Isaac and Rebekah lived among the Philistines, they hadn’t had any kids yet!

A flashback here makes for good storytelling, too. We would appreciate the Narrator’s decision to include it. Look at how a flashback adds color to the central narrative. 

The central narrative tells us that Esau cares so little about his birthright that he gives up his firstborn status for a pot of beans. “Esau despised his birthright,” Genesis 25:34 tells us. At this point we turn the page to read the next chapter, Genesis 26. 

In Genesis 26, the flashback commences. It’s as if the Narrator has called a time-out. He’s like, Let’s go back and understand the magnitude of this birthright. Clearly Esau has forgotten its power, or he underestimates it, or he’s become complacent. I don’t want My readers to make the same mistake. 

Beginning Chapter 26, perhaps we find ourselves witnessing a time from years past. Jacob and Esau’s parents (Isaac and Rebekah) are living among the Philistines. The locals don’t realize the two of them are married because Isaac is lying. He is acting like Rebekah (his actual wife) is really his sister. Why does Isaac lie? Perhaps because he is afraid! Perhaps because he is fearful of the Philistines who surround him and his wife. And putting yourself in his shoes, wouldn’t you feel the same? 

If this is the case, then it tells us something about Isaac. Isaac can lose sight of God’s covenant because what’s in front of him is the most pressing thing. He’s a godly man, for sure, but the danger in this Philistine city is clear and immediate, while God’s larger-than-life promises are larger than life. Isaac loses sight of those promises and decides to lie about his situation. He can justify those lies without end. 

No one knows his justifications better than his wife, Rebekah. Every day she has to pretend to be Isaac’s sister. She does so “for a long time.” This no doubt puts her in harm’s way, but she keeps true to her husband’s storyline. She knows it’s deceitful on their part, yes, but the ends justify the means. 

The final two verses in Genesis 26 cap the flashback. Reading them we’re teleported back to our previous place in time. Jacob and Rebekah now have fully grown sons. Their firstborn, Esau, abruptly re-enters the narrative.

The last time we saw Esau, he was devaluing his birthright. Meeting him again after this flashback, we find him now thinking little of his family name as he intermarries with the Hittites. Still, he lives in anticipation of his father’s blessing. 

Time out! Important context ahead:

Here’s the birthright and the blessing in a nutshell.

The Birthright: the responsibility to take care of the family and the estate. 

The Blessing: the means with which to carry out that responsibility.

Whoever has the birthright (typically the firstborn son) needs to get the blessing 
because the blessing is the means with which to carry out the birthright. 

In this case, the firstborn son should not receive the blessing because, legally, he is not the firstborn son anymore! Esau sold his his firstborn status to Jacob. Jacob took on the responsibility of the firstborn son through that transaction. So Jacob, now technically the firstborn, is the one to whom the blessing should go. And his mother Rebekah knows this with such certainty. (After all, God told her long ago that the older would serve the younger.) But Rebekah also knows her husband well. She knows that her husband can, at times, lose sight of the big picture. He did it in Gerar and he is about to do it again. If he gives the blessing to Esau, it will be a mistake he cannot undo. And so, with the courage she learned as an “unmarried” women living among the Philistines, it is decided: she will make a bold move. She will be deceitful, yes, but the ends justify the means.  

In time, her husband would learn the truth. Isaac would learn that Rebekah was behind the scheme to swap Jacob for Esau. And Isaac would have been furious with her had it not been for one important discovery. Through Rebekah, he discovers that the birthright belongs to Jacob, not Esau! He discovers that Jacob legally possesses the firstborn status because Esau sold it away for a pot of beans! So Isaac can’t be too upset with his wife because his wife protected him from a terrible mishap. That is, to give the blessing to a son who does not possess the birthright in God’s eyes. 

Still, a very daring maneuver on Rebekah’s part, to instigate this whole son swap, to risk her name on a move so audacious. But she is no stranger to risk. She learned to accept risk during her long stay in Gerar, going out as a “single” woman among the Philistines. While Isaac was afraid, Rebekah learned how not to be afraid. She certainly wasn’t too afraid when she told her son Jacob, “My son, [if this ploy doesn’t work], let the curse fall on me. Just do what I say; go and get the ingredients [of the stew] for me.”

Can you see why I like to read Genesis 26 as flashback? Let me speak broadly. 

• God is the greatest author and the Torah is His book. If a human author can use flashback as a literary device to tell a story more powerfully, why can’t God do it in His book? 
• If Genesis 26 is a flashback, it explains how Isaac and Rebekah could successfully sell a brother/sister relationship. Shared children were not a factor.  
• Genesis 26, the flashback, is wedged between Jacob’s receiving the birthright (from Esau) and his receiving the blessing (from Isaac). Between these events, it makes sense to go back in time to visit Isaac and Rebekah in Gerar when everything was on the line. There too we learn that God will see His plan through. We ought not underestimate His sovereignty despite human error. 
• We see how Rebekah garnered the courage to make the decision she made, and perhaps why she was okay with a measure of deceit so long as the ends justified the means.
• We see why Isaac would have loved his wife even after she deceived him. After all, she had put up with his deception in Gerar for such a long time, and she’d done so at her own risk.  
• Finally, reading Genesis 26 as flashback yields a window into a beautiful moment. Remember when the king of Gerar spies Isaac and Rebekah being intimate with each other in Genesis 26:8? I like to think this detail captures the moment their twins, Jacob and Esau, were conceived. 

Rachel Steals the Idols, But Why?

Why does Rachel take her father’s idols? Here are five potential motives. 

1.    A noble act: She takes them from Laban as a kind of rescue, to wean her father away from idol worship. “If the idols can’t save themselves, then they can’t save you, Laban. You need to wake up to the truth.” 

2.  A prudent action: Laban’s idols are “oracles” according to Rabbi Hirsch. With this reading, Rachel recognizes that behind these idols are real and dark supernatural forces. She doesn’t want these forces to tell Laban the whereabouts of Jacob’s location. So, by taking the oracles, she is buying time. “I’ll steal the idols so Laban can’t consult them and learn our location.”

3.    A sentimental attachment: She grew up with these idols and now she simply can’t let them go. Almost like a teenage girl packing her time-raggled stuffed animal as she travels off to college. Or maybe like a Christmas nativity set from your childhood that you can’t seem to part with. “I’m taking these because I want something that reminds me of home.”

4.   A business move: It’s been pointed out that there was a tradition in ancient Mesopotamia that he who possessed the family gods possessed certain rights over the household. As revealed in Genesis 31:14, Rachel knew that her father had no intention of passing a share of his estate to her and her sister, Leah. So Rachel thinks, “I’ll take these idols so we can return after my father’s death and lay a claim to our inheritance.” (Proponents of this explanation reference the fact that Laban accepts the theft of his idols only after he receives a guarantee that Jacob will not cross a particular boundary line between them. Laban knows then that his sons’ inheritance will be protected; Jacob will not return and lay claim to any piece of Laban’s estate.)

5.    An act of spite: Rachel is so fed up with Laban that she wants to hit him where it hurts the most. “I’m going to steal these idols because I know how much they mean to my father, and he deserves to hurt after the way he’s treated me, after the way he ruined what should have been my wedding night.” 

These potential motives deserve consideration, and perhaps all factor in to some extent. The narrative provides two clues which may help us clarify the matter some. 

Clue #1: she doesn’t tell Jacob about the theft. 
Clue #2: she still possesses the idols after 10 days! 

Clue #1 leads me to believe that a guilty conscience is involved, thereby ruling out “the noble act” idea. Had it been a noble act, she would’ve told Jacob. 

Clue #2 leads me to believe that “the prudent move” isn’t the answer either. Had she just been trying to prevent Laban from consulting his oracles, she could’ve buried the idols at the first opportunity, her goal having been accomplished. Clue #2 also leads me to believe that “the act of spite” isn’t her primary motivation either. Had it been a simple act of spite, she would’ve discarded or destroyed them soon after their departure. There’s no need to keep incriminating evidence any longer than necessary. But as we know, Rachel was still holding on to them after 10 days!

“The business move” isn’t compelling because she already knows that Jacob is a wealthy man returning to a wealthy family. Rachel doesn’t need to claim additional riches from her father Laban. Besides that, this motivation doesn’t seem true to her character in my opinion.  

Does she take the idols due to sentimental attachment? Possibly. The tokens of our childhood can be difficult to let go of, especially if we derive a level of emotional security from them. Still, I don’t find this reason compelling in and of itself. 

There is another explanation, a sixth possibility. Dennis Prager puts it well: “Rachel surely believed in the God of Jacob, but she might well have still believed in the power of idols with which she grew up. When people believe in many visible gods, it takes a very long time to get them to believe in one invisible God. Rachel’s behavior may have been similar to that of Neils Bohr, the Nobel-prize winning physicist who was said to keep a rabbit’s foot in his laboratory. When an astonished visitor asked, ‘But surely, professor, you don’t believe in a rabbit’s foot?’ Bohr responded, ‘Of course not. But they say a rabbit’s foot brings you luck whether you believe in it or not.’”

Rachel was desperately anxious to have a child (Gen. 30:1) and then, later on, desperately anxious to have a second child. Prager points out that Rachel may have taken the idols because she was open to utilizing all means necessary toward procuring her goal, including mandrakes, Jacob’s God, and perhaps also the gods from her father’s household. This point, I believe, explains Rachel’s motivation in the most satisfying way. 1) She’s an anxious person by nature, 2) she is desperate to have children, and 3) she’s hedging her bets.

Showdown in the Wilderness

(While I have made efforts to portray the story accurately, 

creative liberties have been taken for storytelling purposes.)

Coiled around a high branch in the center of the Garden the snake studies the man and his wife, their heat signature held in the narrow slits of his black eyes. He is absolutely still but for a forked tongue that slips in and out of his mouth, each pass delivering to him the scent of his unsuspecting prey. He hungers for this couple, the first human beings. But it is, more specifically, their holiness that fires his appetite, for in their holiness is the likeness of God.
 
This snake is unlike any other creature in the Garden because this snake is no animal at all, but the enemy himself in the form of his most fundamental essence. His essence is revealed in the Garden of Eden because Eden is a zone where physical reality perfectly articulates the spiritual reality unpinning it. In this place, the enemy has no choice but to manifest as a cold-blooded snake, some mix between a viper with a venomous bite and a cobra ready to encircle and strangulate its prey.
 
From what heights he has fallen! The enemy was once ordained to be a guardian of heaven. He was the seal of perfection, one full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. He was adorned with precious stones on the day he was created. He was blameless in his ways until wickedness was found in him. His heart became proud on account of his beauty (Ezekiel 28:11-17). Self-indulgence corrupted his wisdom. Intoxicated with pride, the mantra of his heart so became:

“I will ascend to the heavens;
I will raise my throne above the stars of God;
I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly,
I will ascend above the tops of the clouds;

I will make myself like the Most High.” 

(Isaiah 14:13-14)

 

He recognizes that the created world is the sole avenue by which he can achieve his aims. Because God gave the dominion of earth to man, the snake can merely receive it from man if man will relinquish it. The snake bets that man is gullible enough to take his bait. As he beholds the man and his wife on their first full day of existence––they are playfully splashing and laughing in a shallow riverbed––the more he likes his odds.
 
As the Sabbath goes on, he watches from a distance and takes notes. He sees that the man and his wife are invited to eat freely from any tree they choose, and there are miles upon miles of fruitful trees from which to choose. The variety of options exemplify the diversity of choice within God’s blessing. So long as they eat from the open buffet that God has prepared for them, they will feast forever in true freedom, exercising their free-will every day without end.
 
There is but one prohibition: the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. This tree is the radical that makes the whole free-will equation work. Without it, humanity is a bride locked inside her husband’s castle. Because, is in any love relationship, the worth of yes is contingent on the freedom to say no. The Tree of Knowledge is God granting man the freedom to say no so that their continued relationship can be chosen, not forced. 
 
God is bold and unafraid. He showcases the Tree of Knowledge in the center of the Garden. He doesn’t set it in some far-off corner; He doesn’t hide it behind some massive boulder. It’s not the hard-to-find Shrub of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Rather, it’s the distinguished Tree of Knowledge standing counter to the distinguished Tree of Life, with all other trees relegated to their periphery. Giving it such prime real estate is God’s way of telling man: if you want to leave, you have every right to do so. The castle door is unlocked. The decision to stay is yours. 
 
To the serpent the Tree of Knowledge represents a salacious opportunity, so he stations himself among its branches. He trains his eyes on the man and his wife and, as he watches them, he beholds the image and likeness of God, a sight which makes him salivate. 
 
The snake slithers downward at nightfall, his long body weaving between the branches. His tongue goes in and out, its forked tip foreboding a split which his tongue will soon inspire. He settles into a strategic position upon the tree’s lowest branch. With excitement, he waits until morning.
 
Not long after dawn his victory over man is complete. Having consumed their holiness as his main dish, their fear as his dessert, he is bloated and swollen beyond previous size. There is so much to digest! For now, he meanders back up the Tree of Knowledge, its highest branches well above the fog line. Reaching its highest perch, he takes in the view of the Garden like a glutton king surveying his newly acquired territory. At the same time, the sun comes up behind him. 
 

*     *     *

 
The man arises from the water of the Jordan. The Spirit of God descends like Noah’s final dove and lands, finally. The people around him are astonished when a voice from the sky declares, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” The new world upon whom the Spirit now rests is a man named Jesus. He is the Son of God, the last Adam. He is at the cusp of his ministry on earth, but before he begins, he knows what he has to do.  
 
Venturing out like a trapper, Jesus disappears into the wilderness, alone. He makes himself the bait. He lets himself become very weak, fasting for 40 consecutive days. He senses the serpent watching him from a distance. The serpent studies him day after day to monitor his strength as it dwindles. 20 days go by. 30 days go by. By Day 40, Jesus is very near the physical limit of human capacity, perhaps 50 pounds lighter than when he began. Having gone 40 days without food, Jesus can barely balance himself. He slips in and out of consciousness. The line between what is and what isn’t blurs. The enemy, then, sees his edge and deems that the time is right. In full strength the snake emerges from hiding and strikes.
 
Having been loosed from the Garden, the enemy has gained a new power: the ability to manipulate the way in which he is perceived. When the outside doesn’t reflect the inside––when something isn’t what it pretends to be––a mockery of God’s design is on display. And so, out here in the wilderness, the tempter capitalizes on such power. He approaches Jesus not in his true essence (which is that of a serpent) but as a person who Jesus already knows and trusts: a rabbi from his youth, a friend of his father’s, an old man with bushy eyebrows and a warm smile. When Jesus notices the rabbi approaching, he isn’t sure if he is seeing a childhood memory brought to life or if, perhaps, the enemy has finally arrived.
 
The old, familiar rabbi sits down across from Jesus. Seeing Jesus so drawn and emaciated, a look of concern spreads across the rabbi’s face. He speaks up for Jesus’ sake. He pleads, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread!” In other words, Jesus, come on! You are the Son of God so turn these rocks into bread! Why are you denying your own potential, my son? 
 
Grounding his thoughts, Jesus responds with a verse from Deuteronomy: “It is written, ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.’”
 
The rabbi looks away, disgusted. Was 40 days of starvation not long enough? Still, the enemy knows he has an angle. He knows what Jesus wants even more than food: he wants his people to recognize who he is. With this knowledge, and seeing Jesus so weakened, the enemy remains seated and confident. His advantage is not lost. For a long while, there is silence between them. The two of them remain in total quiet minus the ever-present wind that howls between these arid mountains. Jesus, slumped against a large stone wall, eventually lays his head back. He struggles to remain present. Inwardly his mind is adrift. The rabbi’s bushy eyebrows are the last thing he distinguishes as everything fades to black.
 
His eyes shoot open. Abruptly alert, Jesus finds himself in the middle of Jerusalem. He is perched high above a crowd of hundreds of people. He is peering down at them from the pinnacle of the Temple. It is from this position, he knows, that the priest would regularly watch and wait for dawn, eager to give the signal to commence the Temple services, the morning sacrifice always set to occur precisely at sunrise. This position at the pinnacle of the Temple is a place of anticipation, a place of new beginnings. Jesus knows this intuitively as he beholds the setting that now surrounds him.
 
There is, standing beside him, a man dressed in the holy garments of a Levitical priest. The priest stretches out his hand as if to invite Jesus to step forward. The priest says in a dignified voice, “If you are the Son of God, jump off. For the Scriptures say, ‘He will order his angels to protect you. And they will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.’” The statement conveys the following: If, in fact, you are the Son of God, then show your people! Show them who you are in a way they would understand! They are expecting a Messiah, and Malachi 3:1 foretells of the Messiah coming here. And here you are! At a station of anticipation and new beginnings. Step forth and be carried down by angels; be proclaimed as the Messiah! It’s perfect; it’s poetic; it’s pleasing. It accomplishes what you want. Don’t miss this opportunity, Jesus. Shortcuts get you to the goal faster.
 
The enemy dresses the temptation in Scripture. The passage he references is from Psalm 91, a well-known Messianic psalm. Verses 11, 12 & 14 read this way:
 
For [the Lord] will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
 
Did you catch it? The passage is missing a verse. Verse 13 goes unsaid because Psalm 91:13 reads, “You will tread on the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.” 
 
The redaction is not missed by a master-rabbi. Jesus, calling up Deuteronomy 6:16 in response, turns to the enemy in priestly garments and says, “It is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God on trial.’” 
 
The priest raises an open hand as if to slap Jesus across the face. It comes in quickly and Jesus winces, bracing for impact. But instead of swiping his face, the man’s hand swipes the whole scene into oblivion. Jesus is hit not by a hand but by a blast of cold wind that overwhelms his sun-burnt face. 
 
He has been transported to the summit of a colossal mountain, its flanks so steep and rigid that a man could not scale them. Jesus sees that he shares the summit with someone else, the sight of whom would bring a lesser man to his knees. In front of Jesus towers a magnificent archangel buttressed on both sides by mighty wings. He is adorned with precious stones of every color, his splendor and radiance transcending the limits of the physical world. This goliath angel, tall, scary and striking, holds a pose that accentuates his most stunning and wonderful features. When the angel looks down his nose at Jesus, he does so with surprise, because the man peering up at him is unimpressed. 
 
The supposed angel of light directs Jesus to the edge of the mountaintop. Jesus accepts the invitation and together they walk to the ledge. It is here that Jesus’ breath is taken away, for beyond the dizzying drop-off is a scene so captivating it is difficult to describe.
 
Draped over the landscape is history distilled into a single moment. All the kingdoms of earth are represented. Stretching as far as the eye can see, they light up the sky. Each kingdom is portrayed in its highest grandeur: Greece with its columns; Rome with its roads; Persia with its statues; Arabia with its gardens; China with its monuments; Great Britain with its sails; Central America with its step pyramids; the United States with its towering skyscrapers; Israel with its Temple. It’s all there: present and future.
 
Their two figures, cast in the glow of this glorious presentation of history, stand in mutual silence. The angel lets Jesus take it in. The angel pretends to look too but he has, quite frankly, grown accustomed to this view. Besides, the kingdom he covets most is not included in this panorama. The kingdom he covets most remains safeguarded within the boney frame of the lonely man standing next to him. It is the kingdom within him that the most glorious angel ever created side-eyes in total jealousy. 
 
He turns to Jesus as Jesus continues to survey the landscape far below. Jesus remains enamored by the storylines unfolding before him. The angel sees their light illuminate his eyes. The enemy is reminded of the way the light reflected in Eve’s eyes when she beheld the beauty of the Tree of Knowledge. He smiles and speaks just above a whisper. “All these things I will give You,” he says. After a pause, he adds, “If You fall down and worship me.”
 
Underneath his calm demeanor, the enemy screams: “Jesus, no one will notice! It’s just you and me out here! I’m offering you the deal of a lifetime! The course of the world, up for sale! Rule it as you see fit! Simply nod while no one is watching. Your whole body is aching to lay down anyway, right?”
 
No terrorism. No holocaust. No inquisition. No crucifixion. Jesus shuts his eyes to push away the noise of the world. When his eyelids pull back, his eyes are illuminated from the inside, by the light of God’s Word. Jesus turns to the goliath angel and answers with a verse from Deuteronomy. “It is written,” he says, “‘You shall worship the Lord your God and serve Him only.’” 
 
The angel’s countenance falls through his feet and tumbles down the mountainside. He knows there’s nowhere left to go; he’s heightened the temptations as high as he can take them. And still, despite the odds, Jesus––this man of God––has prevailed. 
 
There is a sudden whirl and Jesus lowers his head to avoid being disoriented. When he raises it up he finds himself slumped against a rock on the desert floor. The sun is going down and the stars are coming out. Across from him is an unfamiliar man with black eyes as slanted as a serpent’s. The man is staring back at Jesus, motionless and crouching down. His expression is solemn and intense. No words are spoken. Jesus coughs once, twice, and the man is gone. 

 
Jesus, now alone and left to the birds and the wild animals, is in a dangerous situation. His weakened body is all but paralyzed; his mind is unsteady and spent. He is starving and bordering on death. If God doesn’t rescue him somehow, he will die right here in this vast and unforgiving wilderness. Jesus is neither demanding nor expecting an angelic dispatch, but their appearance at his remote location is more than welcomed. They come and attend to him, pulling him back from the brink of death.
 
The enemy watches from a distant mountain. He isn’t breathing; he isn’t blinking. He recognizes the angels who are ministering to Jesus, but his focus remains on Jesus alone. An hour goes by like this, until suddenly, without a flinch of movement, he disappears from the landscape. He will pay Jesus another visit. But he will wait until an opportune time presents itself (Luke 4:13).

*     *     *

 
The opportune time has arrived. Jesus (again delirious, again near death) hangs on the cross. Crowded around him is an audience of people, and among them is a strange face that Jesus recognizes. It is the enemy weaving through the crowd, his face set on Jesus as he walks across. He says nothing directly to Jesus but his voice comes out as he jeers at the Christ through anonymous characters in the crowd. They call out, “If you are the Son of God, come down from that cross!”
 
Jesus recollects the enemy’s temptations in the wilderness: “If you are the Son of God...” “If you are the Son of God...” and now again: “If you are the Son of God, come down from that cross!” He sees this for what it is: it is the fourth great temptation, the opportune time that the snake has been waiting for. But this time, Jesus’ response will be quite different than before. 
 
In the wilderness, Jesus relied on the Torah to do battle. There are five books in the Torah he could have chosen from, but a single book––Deuteronomy––was enough to put down the enemy. 
 
In another great showdown, David went against Goliath at the end of 40 days. David “chose five smooth stones from the brook and put them in his shepherd’s pouch. His sling was in his hand, and he approached the Philistine . . . David put his hand in his bag and took out a stone and slung it and struck the Philistine on his forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell on his face to the ground.”
 
David relied on those stones to do battle with Goliath. There were five stones in his bag that he could have chosen from, but a single stone was enough to put down the enemy.
 
But there again, the showdown wasn’t over yet. After dropping him with a single stone, David then stood over Goliath and drew Goliath’s sword out of its sheath. Using Goliath’s own weapon against him, David cut off Goliath’s head. 
 
In like manner, Jesus now responds. Hanging on the cross, he looks down at the enemy. Before this, he had struck down the enemy with a single book, but now Jesus will use something else to finalize his victory. Death is drawn up into his hands. Using the enemy’s own weapon against him, Jesus dies on the cross––and with that death, he crushes the serpent’s head. 

*     *     *

 
The serpent has no power of his own to sprout arms and legs, so he leans on the subservience of humanity to make him into the dragon he is at the end of time. 
 
His growth doesn’t change the outcome, though. The reptile is seized and led like a criminal to the edge of the lake of fire. Its bubbling, billowing heat scorches his scaly skin as he stands at the lakefront, unable to back away. This ancient serpent––this one who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, this one who turned the world into a desert and destroyed its cities, this one who refused to let the captives return to their homes––hides his fear with a scowl of indignation. It will be the last mask the enemy ever wears.
 
The lake in front of him is churning with fire. This lake is not separation from God; it is just the opposite. It is a concentrated and uncensored experience of God’s holiness. Even death and hell will succumb to its reality! And Jesus, presently seated in full strength at the right hand of God, will sound the order.
 
In the seconds before his sentence is carried out, the enemy glances back at Jesus who sits enthroned above the assembly as the Most High. The two of them lock eyes one more time. And with a subtle look, Jesus signals to the serpent a farewell message: “I know you sought to feed on man’s holiness, so here, try Mine.” 
 
The serpent is never seen again.

The Woman Caught in Adultery

(While I have made efforts to portray the story accurately, 
creative liberties have been taken for storytelling purposes.)

 

A multitude has amassed in Jerusalem. For a week the city remains beyond full occupancy, alive with the spirit of celebration. Four spectacular menorahs, so tall that ladders lean against them, burn so bright at night that every courtyard in the city is illuminated by their firelight. Beneath these four towering torches, people dance and rejoice in the Temple courts; performers juggle and do handstands; the Levites sing and chant the Psalms of Ascent (120-134). The joyous clamor of harps, lyres, cymbals and trumpets ring out into the countryside. Shepherds hear the merriment from miles away; it begs them to come and join the party. Certainly, this is no ordinary week. 

It is the festival of Sukkot (also known as the Feast of Tabernacles or the Feast of Booths). Sukkot is the seventh of the feasts; it occurs during the seventh month of the year; and it is seven days long. All males are commanded to come up to Jerusalem for Sukkot, bringing and giving whatever they are able (Deuteronomy 16:16-17). Once here, pilgrims go without much sleep for the activities begin with a trumpet blast early in the morning and go on long after sundown. After all, the flaming menorahs never go out since each and every stem is fueled with four gallons of oil.

For a week, the celebration in Jerusalem kicks off the same way each day. In the morning there is a procession down to the Pool of Siloam. Afterward, the people make their way to the Temple courts to watch a priest perform a libation ceremony. In the ceremony, a priest ascends the ramp onto the altar where two silver bowls wait for him: one holding water (from the Pool of Siloam) and the other holding a red wine. The surrounding audience grows quiet as they wait for the priest to raise the bowls and pour out the contents. Symbolically this is an act of prayer, a prayer that God will pour out a blessing of rain upon the land. (By the way, Sukkot marks the beginning of the rainy season in Israel. Rain and Sukkot are linked prophetically as well. See Zechariah 14:17.) The libation ceremony is each day’s main event, and Day #7––Hoshana Rabbah––is considered to be the greatest day of them all. 

The main event on Day #7 has arrived. This is the epicenter of the entire celebration. The morning air is fresh, the autumn sun is rising, and the golden walls of the Temple are glistening. The crowd sits to watch the priest perform the final water-pouring ceremony of the festival. This time the priest builds the suspense by circling the altar seven times before ascending the ramp. When he finally reaches the top, he holds the silver bowls high into the air. The crowd is hushed. The priest raises his eyes and tips the bowls forward. Wine and water come spilling out. They are splashing against the altar when, without warning, Jesus stands up to make an announcement. 

He declares with a loud voice, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink! Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” 

All heads turn at once! Eyes are wide; jaws are dropped. Even the priest atop the altar looks over at Jesus. The priest is caught off guard. Here he is, having just poured out the water as an appeal to the Creator to provide water for Israel, and Jesus, as if to answer the prayer, tells the people to come to him for water! 

As it will be pointed out, “Jesus promises living water for all who believe. What is living water? It is cool, fresh, non-stagnant spring water; it is water with a current, a life flow. In Israel water is especially precious, and the most prized of all is spring water, the sweetest and best water available. It bubbles up from the depths and continues to flow even when cisterns and streams have dried up.” The water used in the water-pouring ceremony is spring water, it having come from the Pool of Siloam which is fed by the Gihon Spring. 

For now, Jesus finishes his declaration and sits down. There are murmurs in the audience, curious looks, a few gasps and a few glares. Some go to the officers and request that he be arrested at once for such an interruption. The officers refrain from doing so because they are somewhat mesmerized by this man. No one has ever spoken like him before, and he has done nothing to threaten the people. When the officers later report to the chief priests and Pharisees, the officers are scolded. The Pharisees question their intelligence. “Have you also been deceived?” The Pharisees go on to scorn the entire crowd, calling them “a mob.” After all, anyone who knows the law would demand that Jesus be arrested. Clearly this accursed “mob” knows nothing of the law! The Pharisees seethe with anger. Sukkot is supposed to be the most joyous time of the year! Yet Jesus is a thief who has hijacked the traditions which bring them joy.

At this point, a respected member among the Pharisees named Nicodemus joins the conversation. Nicodemus has previously come to Jesus, has had a drink of living water. He came away refreshed with new insight. The others, though, do not know about his encounter, for he visited Jesus under the cover of night. Nevertheless, Nicodemus sees the whole situation differently. “Does our law judge a man without first giving him a hearing and learning what he does?” he asks them.

A valid point, they come to realize. And a good idea, actually. Their minds are turning, scheming. Some of them agree: “Let’s test him. Let’s ‘give him a hearing to see what He does.’” So they hatch a plan. They select one of their own to initiate the process, a man under their authority. They designate him to do the deed; they grant him immunity and anonymity. The man disappears into the night to put their plot into action. Before the Pharisees part ways, they enjoy a good chuckle. “See you in the morning,” they say to each other, smiling. 

Morning dawns. It’s now “the eighth day” (Leviticus 23:29), the special day immediately following the seven day festival of Sukkot. This day is called Shemini Atzeret (“the eighth [day] of assembly”), and in Israel, it is also Simchat Torah (“rejoicing in the Torah”). This fact is important context.

The Torah is kept on an annual reading cycle in every Synagogue. Over the course of a year, the Torah is read portion by portion, from Genesis’ opening to Deuteronomy’s end, one week at a time. When does the Torah finish and restart? On the eighth day! On the day of Simchat Torah! 

Simchat Torah is when the cycle renews. And it is on this day, Simchat Torah, that Jesus returns to the Temple courts to teach again (John 8).

Since Sukkot is a pilgrimage feast, there are still a lot of people in town. There are Jews from all over the region in Jesus’ audience. A number of them were especially intrigued by his unprecedented statement at yesterday’s libation ceremony; they want to hear more. He is devoting all of his attention to them when suddenly there is an interruption. He is approached by a group of Pharisees and teachers of the law. Among them is a lone woman. She is silent, humiliated, and defeated. She’s been caught in the act of adultery, and in this town, that means she is done for.

The Pharisees have been waiting for this moment. Hours earlier, they were pleased to learn that their plans had come together perfectly. Their designated man had arranged the meeting. She had foolishly shown up. Then right on cue, a few men burst into the room to seize her by surprise. She was caught red-handed: guilty, defenseless. She saw her whole life collapse into itself in an instant. But little did she realize, the take-down wasn’t about her at all. She simply served as the prop they needed to take him down. Quite frankly, they had long known that she was an adulteress. It wasn’t until last night that they even cared. She had just become useful. 

The Pharisees lead her to Jesus. She kneels voluntarily between Him and them, her arms limp and her face bent toward the ground. Center stage in front of a sizable audience, she has never been this embarrassed. She wears only her undergarments, further proof that she has been caught in the act. The Pharisees have choreographed this dance number.  

The lead Pharisee engages Jesus. In this scene, he is the lead actor who pretends indignation. “Teacher!” he says to Jesus. “This woman has been caught in the act of adultery! Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 

Game, set, match. The Pharisees have Him. It’s a win/win for them. If Jesus says stone her, he’s in trouble with the Romans. If Jesus says don’t stone her, he’s in trouble with the Jews. Either way, he loses and they reclaim the joy that feels taken from them.

The unfolding showdown is one between the Son of God and a group of practiced, professional lawyers. Much of what transpires is hidden in the mastery of Torah and Jewish law. At such a skill level, the Hebrew Scriptures have been memorized, and with regards to these Pharisees, they certainly reviewed select passages before bedtime just to have them fresh on recall. However, they’ve failed to realize that they are dealing with the very author of the textbook, and that he isn’t afraid.

Deuteronomy 17 states, “On the testimony of two or three witnesses a person is to be put to death, but no one is to be put to death on the testimony of only one witness. The hands of the witnesses must be the first in putting that person to death, then afterward the hands of all the people. You must purge the evil from among you. If cases come before your courts that are too difficult for you to judge––whether bloodshed, lawsuits or assaults––take them to the place the Lord your God will choose. Go to the Levitical priests and to the judge who is in office at that time. Inquire of them and they will give you the verdict.”

This section in the law comes to Jesus’ mind immediately. He thinks: Where are the witnesses? The witnesses must be willing to cast the first stone. This is by God’s design so that, if the witnesses are found to be compromised, the execution becomes a murder scene, and the so-called witnesses become liable for murder in that they cast the first stone. A man ought not testify against someone unless he is ready to put his own life on the line. 

Another question: Where is the other party? The Torah is clear: the adulterer is as guilty as the adulteress (Leviticus 20:10). And yet here they are presenting only the woman. 

Jesus turns over another question: Why are they bringing this woman to me? In their minds, I am no more than an outsider, an impostor. The law is clear in its requirement to take such cases to the Levitical priests. If these men were genuinely concerned, they wouldn’t be bringing her to me. 

These observations click through his mind in an instant. He recognizes their question for the trap that it is. He sees what this is about. 

“So what do you say, teacher?” they ask him again.

When the enemy offers Option A or Option B, always choose Option C. In response, he says nothing. Instead he kneels down and starts writing in the dirt. What is He writing? The audience wants to know! The Pharisees just want him to fall into their trap, so they keep pressing him to answer their question. But instead he keeps writing on the ground with His finger. This is the only record of Jesus ever writing anything. 

When the Pharisees begin to realize what he is writing, they are caught off guard. They can’t believe it, or make sense of it. For some reason, he is writing out their names in the dirt! This they find very puzzling. Not at all the response they expected.

Jesus stands up and faces them. Having gotten their attention, he says, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” That is to say, who is ready to put your life on it? Because if you testify against her and there is something that you are hiding––which I know you are––then your part in the execution becomes murder, and you yourself stand to be executed. He lets the question hang in the air.

Of course, they are hiding something! They’ve set her up! This whole case would be thrown out of court! And Jesus knows it, too. As a defense lawyer, he’s torn a gaping hole in the prosecution. As a teacher, he’s schooled them in the classroom of Torah. As the Son of God, he now looks them in the eye and sees right into their hearts which are suddenly more exposed than this woman. They realize that he is on to them. They realize he’s in on their secret. He has the moral high ground, and they have nothing to come back with. To keep appearances they don’t show it outwardly, but their hearts are stricken with shame. They really do think of themselves as pious individuals, yet looking into the eyes of this man, they catch a glimpse of their real condition. But they are resistant; another strike is needed. Once again Jesus kneels down and starts writing.

What is he writing this time? A portion of Jeremiah 17:13, a passage the Pharisees are familiar with, a verse beginning with God’s holy Name (YHVH)...

O LORD, the hope of Israel,

all who forsake You shall be put to shame;

those who turn away from You shall be written in the earth,

for they have forsaken the LORD, the fountain of living water.

      

Just yesterday he had declared, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.” Yet these Pharisees had rejected him and his message. They did not believe him to be the source of living water. And now, as Jesus carves this verse into the dirt, the Pharisees begin to leave the scene beginning with the oldest among them. The oldest are the ones most trained in the words of Torah. Not only first to recognize the passage, they are the first to grasp the brilliance of his response. Without speaking a single contrary word, he had nailed them to the dark reality of their actions. He had used to the law to bring grace. The very thing they used to condemn her, he used to protect her! The response was so solid and mighty that the Pharisees––these master-lawyers in Jewish law––went away from him, one by one, speechless. Here was a man of such stature that he could take a trap and turn it into a teaching. 

Still on his knees, Jesus keeps writing while a few young Pharisees linger. Eventually they too leave the scene. Jesus is left alone with the alleged adulteress She still kneels motionless in front of him. His audience hasn’t said a word since the whole ordeal began. They now watch with curiosity as he continues to write in the dirt. What is he going to do next? 

Jesus finishes writing, showing care for each letter in the passage. Finally he looks up from the ground and sees that all of the Pharisees have departed. He stands and says, “Woman, where are they?” She gazes up at him and they make eye contact. “Has no one condemned you?” he asks.

“No one, Lord.” A glimmer of Eden’s light in her eyes.

“Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on, sin no more,” he tells her. 

His audience watches as she stands, turns, then walks away without another remark. She soon rounds the corner and exits the Temple courts. Jesus completes a silent prayer for her before he turns back to the audience and goes on teaching, picking up where he left off although now his hands are dirty.

“Do you see what just happened?” a man in the audience whispers to his son. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

Just before sunset, the man and his son––out-of-towners visiting Jerusalem to celebrate Sukkot, staying an extra day for Simchat Torah––discuss the events they witnessed earlier that morning. The father explains to his son something from the Torah called “The Sotah” (The Ordeal). It is described in Numbers 5. It deals with the case of a woman suspected of adultery. It can be called “Trial by God.” The procedure goes as follows: a husband, suspicious of his wife’s infidelity and overcome with jealousy, brings her to the Tabernacle (later to become the Temple). There a priest conducts a special ritual which promises to bring the truth to light. In this ritual, a liquid concoction is made. It begins as a strange combination made of holy water and dust from the Tabernacle floor. Next, a curse is written upon a scroll. The curse functions as an oath, for the woman is taking on an oath that she is innocent, but a curse if she is guilty. The oath includes the never-erased, sacred four-letter name of God: YHVH. It is the invoking of this holy name that gives the oath its weight, God being the primary witness and judge of the promises made. After the curse is written and the ink has dried, the ink is scraped off of the scroll and pushed into the liquid concoction. The woman suspected of adultery is then required to drink the final product––this bizarre mixture of holy water, dust from the Tabernacle floor, and the curse scrapped from a scroll. Once she drinks the bitter water, that is that. The ritual is complete. The husband and his wife go on their way. 

It is only with the passing of time that the results become evident. As the Torah says, if the woman loses her ability to bear children, her guilt is known and her barrenness serves as punishment. On the other hand, if her womb is fruitful, she is thereby cleared of the crime and innocent of all charges. God promises children to such a woman as a reward. Her husband, knowing the truth, can breath a sigh of relief. And God, having saved a marriage, having laid down His sacred Name for the sake of the innocent party, is thus glorified.

“Son,” the father says, “don’t you see? Since the woman never confessed to the alleged crime, nor were there any witnesses willing to cast the first stone, it became a case of suspected adultery. The woman became a candidate for the Sotah from Numbers 5.”

The son looks at his dad, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“On Hoshana Rabbah, Jesus claimed to be the Messiah, the source of living water. Then this morning the notion was tested. Jesus, acting as Messiah, perfectly voiced the Word of the Lord. Having seen no witnesses willing to condemn the woman, Jesus moved to the laws of suspected adultery. He called upon all the elements of the ritual: the dust from the Temple floor; the writing of something that would be erased; the invoking of God’s sacred name––YHVH. He was acting as the priest. He offered her a drink of living water––the Spirit of God! ‘Anyone who is thirsty, come to me and drink.’ There is no doubt! Today she drank the most special drink of all. Not a bitter water that revealed her guilt but a living water that revealed his graciousness.” 

The father pauses as a new thought occurs to him. From near laughter, he says, “What day is today, son?” 

“Simchat Torah?” 

“Yes! Today is the day that the Torah is rolled back to be started again. This is exactly what Jesus did for that woman this morning. He rolled back the accusations and she began her life anew! So you see? Her experience is the scroll upon which the curse was written and from which the curse was removed! Truly, he is the Messiah!”