Dearest Rachel –
Omer’s home overlooks the cliffs of Gadara (the site, as I always say, of the original deviled ham), and the city of Susita, on the northern half of the Sea of Galilee. Basically, to hear Omer tell it, he can see where half the events of the New Testament took place from his own backyard. Omer tells the story of the man formerly known as ‘Legion,’ who essentially became the first Christian missionary – he wanted to join Jesus and the other disciples, but He instructed him to go and tell the others what happened to him (especially since Jesus was asked to leave the area, since He’d just crashed the local economy, so someone would have to stay behind and spread the Good News).
“Go back home and ·tell [explain to] people ·how much [or what great things] God has done for you.” So the man went all over town ·telling [proclaiming] ·how much [or what great things] Jesus had done for him.
Luke 8:39, Expanded Bible
Daniel mentions to me about how pigs, having the approximate intelligence of five-year-olds, would actually be able to swim; but, burdened with the effects of some 5,000 or so demons possessing them, determined that they would rather drown than deal with that. I admit, I can’t confirm any of that (although I know they are smarter than dogs, I’ve no idea how much more so – or even how one would test that), but it sounds legitimate, so I’ll let it slide.
As we are about to make our way south, to spend the rest of our stay there (apart from tomorrow night, during which we’ll be at the Dead Sea), Omer offers some context about the city of Jerusalem. He starts by asking us which of the tribes of Israel was the strongest.
“Judah?” Given the line of David, this seems the logical answer, but it’s incorrect. It is – or rather was – Benjamin. Thanks to a certain atrocity in the last few chapters of Judges, all of the rest of Israel went to war against Benjamin, and were defeated twice before finally overcoming them. Shiloh, where the Tabernacle was set up, was in Benjamin’s territory, and Saul, Israel’s first king (albeit a reluctant one at first) was from the tribe. In fact, David did not immediately succeed Saul upon the latter’s death, but rather Saul’s one remaining son Ish-Bosheth.
Incidentally, Saul’s death included a bookend to the story of his reign. His first test as king was when a foreign king invaded the town of Jabesh Gilead, and when they attempted to surrender, said king insisted he would only accept it if all the men of the town gouged out their right eyes. After asking for a week to consider this demand, the town sent for Saul to bring his army to save them, which he did. When he died in battle, a commando force from Jabesh Gilead raided the enemy city in which the bodies of him and his sons were kept, spirited them off and gave them a proper burial, for which David honored the town for its fidelity toward their savior and king.
So why was David accepted as king after Ish-Bosheth’s death, since he wasn’t part of the royal family, or even of the tribe it came from? Well, he was married to Michal, Saul’s daughter, so in fact he was the next logical successor to the throne.
And where does Jerusalem fit into all of this? Well, it wasn’t until David came along, and captured the city, that it became part of the nation of Israel. Since it didn’t belong to any of the tribes, it was the perfect site for the nation’s capital, much as Washington straddles the line between North and South, or Ottawa is on the border of Anglophone and Francophone Canada.
Now with Rehoboam, and the great divorce between Israel, it was a Benjaminite, Jeroboam, who tore the ten tribes away. So that he would not lose citizens to the Temple in Jerusalem, he built altars in Dan and Bethel, at the northernmost and southernmost points in his kingdom.
Say what you will, Omer knows his Biblical history – although given his line of work, you have to expect him to.
***
Now, you and I had often debated, during our previous visits to Israel, how it could be that those who live here – especially those in the faith tourism industry – could not come to the same conclusions about Jesus Christ. Omer himself, when expanding upon the history of Gamla yesterday, made it abundantly clear that there is nothing in the archaeological record to contradict the words of scripture, whether Old or New Testament. To be sure, he considers himself a maximalist when it comes to archaeology, who seeks to prove scripture, as opposed to the minimalist approach, which literally seeks to disprove various bits of it to try to come to the smallest distilled kernel of trust amidst all the blather, but he’s acknowledged that his approach has better success by far.
So, surrounded as they are with so much history – history that demands they come to some conclusion regarding Jesus, and who he claims to be – how is it that those who live here by and large refuse to acknowledge Him as the Messiah He says He is?
You and I generally concluded two things about the circumstances of life in Israel that would get in the way of it all; both having to do with the distractions of the present interfering with making any decisions about one’s future. The first is kind of obvious, the ‘seed in the weeds’ phenomenon. Whether here in Israel, or back home in America, or anywhere across the world, one must provide for one’s survival. For most of us, that involves working for a living, and that in itself is more than enough to get in the way of any philosophical contemplation of the hereafter, and life here in Israel is no different – indeed, perhaps more so here than most places, given its attitude towards commercial practice, compared to its neighbors.
Those neighbors are an extension of this issue, as well; surrounded as the Jews are by such hostility (although with certain agreements as the Camp David and Abraham Accords, there is a slight diminution of this threat), Israel as a nation is constantly concerning itself with its own defense. The internal threat from the Palestinian minority within – whose leaders seem unwilling to accept any sort of ‘half-loaf’ compromise – also pose a problem for the security of the nation, as do those from even ostensibly ‘friendly’ nations who agree more with the Palestinian point of view. With these concerns, it’s little wonder that Israeli Jews don’t often concern themselves with the question of Christ.
But then, there is a third factor we assumed was getting in the way, one that we Americans, lacking in such extensive history as we are, can perceive a little more than most. The mere fact that they are surrounded by so much history can actually tend to inure one to its existence. There is an attitude of ‘well, that’s always been there, so what?’ to it all.
However, I hadn’t counted upon there being an additional wrinkle to the whole thing; that of a different sort of belief being held toward the person of Jesus Christ. It’s not that Omer disputes anything we understand about His life and times – even His resurrection is not in doubt, as far as he’s concerned. Everything tracks with what we believe about Him – except that he doesn’t see Him as Messiah. Oh, when He returns, He will come as Messiah, yes, but the first time He came, it was as a prophet, a holy man.
It’s an odd concept to take in. For us, who take it that Jesus is, was and always will be Messiah, this doesn’t add up, but Omer seems cheerfully comfortable with it. I can’t say much more about it because I can’t quite wrap my head around whether this is good enough or interfering with any chance for salvation. If the latter, here’s hoping that the Lord shows him the truth; but if the former, I’d like Him to grant me the same grace.
Wish me luck, honey… I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 