And That, My Friend, Is No Joke!
“A priest, a minister, and a rabbi walk into a bar. The bartender says ‘What is this? A joke?’”-Paul Simon
A few years ago, I was invited to a community event, hosted by The Dialogue Institute of Kansas City. The event was a dinner and discussion, focused on promoting mutual understanding among people of diverse faith and culture. A reformed Jewish Rabbi, a Christian Pastor and a Muslim were on the panel and I, a Messianic Jew, was in the audience (and no, this isn’t a set up for a joke).
My music instructor had told me about the event and I went mostly to observe, listen, and get a better understanding of where each one was coming from in their beliefs. And maybe, ask a few questions. Before the event, I prayed that G-d would use me (even if in some small way) to share the good news with another attendee. I certainly was not expecting to have any personal dialogue with any of the speakers.
It was the Islamic month of Ramadan, so the meal began after sunset, when the first part of the panel discussion was over. During the panel, the speakers allowed for questions from the audience. The atmosphere was quiet and reserved, and I didn’t feel the urgency to say anything at that time. A Muslim prayer was said, the pastor said a prayer of thanks over the food, the rabbi recited the Hamotzi (the Hebrew blessing said before eating bread), and the meal began. It was cafeteria-style, and the rabbi chose to sit at my table. He made small talk with the people sitting on one side of me, while I spoke with the couple on my other side. A little while later, the two people sitting in between us left, and the rabbi moved next to where I was seated. He extended his hand, introduced himself and asked who I was. I told him my name, as his eye caught the star of David around my neck.
“I see your star. Are you Jewish?”, he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I grew up in the Jewish community here, but my beliefs have changed somewhat. I am a Messianic Jew.” There was no point in dancing around the subject, I thought. It’s better to just get it out there now and..well, that will probably be the end of that! Either he will politely change the subject or there will be that dreaded, awkward silence between us and he will walk away or, even worse but not likely in this setting, he will express his disappointment in me like my family and friends had many times before.
None of those things occurred. Instead, much to my surprise, my statement led to a ten-minute discussion about Yeshua (Jesus) before the Rabbi went back to the front for the second part of the panel. During our discussion, the Rabbi had inquired about how I came to believe in Yeshua. I told him how I had come to faith at twenty-five years old through a Christian friend, who first shared the Jewishness of Jesus with my mother while I was growing up. And how I, a Conservative Jew, who attended a Hebrew Yeshiva and whose father was the president of the board at the Jewish community center and vice president at the synagogue, had later discovered that Yeshua fulfilled more than four hundred different prophecies in the Tanakh, and that he was exactly who he said he was– the Messiah of our people.
“Wow, I wish I had your faith!” the Rabbi exclaimed.
What? What did he just say? He wishes he had my faith? Is this a joke?, I thought.
I’ve had many discussions with Jewish family members, friends and strangers about Yeshua over the years, and never once have I received that kind of honest response. Not even close. And definitely not from a rabbi. My own rabbi had told my father to “consider her dead” if I didn’t recant my beliefs after reading the material he gave me. My mother had completely lost it and cut me off. My best friend had politely told me she was happy for me that I had found peace, but if I talked about my faith anymore around her, we just couldn’t be friends. My brother and cousins had done the same. Friends of the family had pleaded with me to just keep my beliefs quiet and not cause any more pain for my parents. The people I had grown up around all my life whispered and jeered at me when I came to the synagogue or attended community events. But now, here was this Reformed Rabbi complimenting me on my faith?!?
“You’re joking right?”, I said
“Not at all,” the Rabbi replied… and our conversation went on for several more minutes before he had to go back to the panel for questions.
Reformed Jews are much more open-minded and willing to embrace people that don’t “fit” into the traditional mindset but to say that he “wished he had my faith” was definitely beyond the norm. It may have been a safe setting for this rabbi to say what he really felt, considering I was the only other Jewish person in the room. I was immediately reminded of Nakdimon (Nicodemus), who came to Yeshua at night looking for the way to eternal life. He was a Pharisee and most certainly concerned about what his fellow Pharisees would think of him, but his heart was burning with questions and a desire to know more. This Rabbi was genuinely interested in what I had to say.
He invited me to come to his congregation, to which I responded, “I would be glad to come.” And then, searching for the right words, I continued “… and well, I know you may not be interested, but you’re welcome to come where I attend also.”
“If I’m invited, I’ll come,” he said with a simple shrug, and his hands turned upwards, like Tevye in Fiddler On The Roof.
“You’re invited!” I said.
My family and I attended his congregation several times and were warmly welcomed, but he never did come to ours, as far as I know. A little while later, I moved to a different part of town and wasn’t close to the Rabbi’s congregation. However, the experience renewed a sense of wonder and abandonment in how I approached my people from that point on. I continue to pray for this Rabbi and periodically see him out and about in the larger community.
Over the years, up until this event, I had become so used to the rejection and disappointment I experienced from friends and family in the past that I had allowed it to overwhelm me with pessimistic feelings about sharing Yeshua with my people. I was still very involved in community outreaches to the Jewish people and prayed continuously for them, but when moving within the circles of the Jewish community I grew up in, I had become somewhat tongue-tied because of the negative responses I expected. Boy, did I need a new perspective!
G-d doesn’t call us to share the good news about Yeshua with a certain prescription for how the outcome will go. He doesn’t even tell us to be focused on the outcome at all. We have numerous examples in the Tanakh (Hebrew bible) of the prophets speaking both hard and loving messages to the people, knowing ahead of time they and their messages might not be received. However, they were still called to speak the message. In Ezekiel 3-4:, G-d says, “Human being, go now to the people of Israel and speak my words to them. For you are not being sent to a people of obscure speech and strange language, but to the people of Israel!”
The pain and rejection I had experienced had clouded the truth- these were my people, whose culture and mindsets I fully understood. I knew how to speak their language! I’m simply called to share with them and leave the outcome to G-d.
There is a beautiful, Hebrew prayer that is sung just before the Amidah (the central prayer in Judaism) that says, “Adonai, S’fatai Tiftach, Ufi Yagid T’hilatecha”, which means: Open up my lips and let my mouth declare your praises. After talking with this Rabbi, I was reminded that it is G-d who gives me the ability to speak and no matter what the cost or possible outcome, if I am continuously surrendered to him, my lips will declare his praise.
When we meet someone, we don’t know what state their heart is in. We don’t know what secret wishes and dreams or questions reside there. We don’t know whether today is the day they will come to faith, if we are planting a seed, or watering one that has already been planted. And, we can’t assume just because someone is a spiritual leader, they aren’t hungry for something more. We are only given one thing for sure, and that is an opportunity. An opportunity to share, to love, to offer prayer, or to practice hospitality.
The truth is, G-d risked everything for you and for me when he came to this earth and gave his life. He risked being rejected, despised, cast out and even killed. And yet, for him, it wasn’t just a risk, it was something he planned and was willing to do, so we could be with him forever. When we see people, do we look at them through that lens of love?
It doesn’t matter if you’re Jewish or Gentile. You don’t have to have some specific, formal training. If you’re a believer in the G-d of Abraham, Issac and Jacob and the Messiah, Yeshua, you are part of his family tree! You are his ambassador.
Romans 1:16 says, “For I am not ashamed of the Good News, since it is G-d’s powerful means of bringing salvation to everyone who keeps on trusting, to the Jew especially, but equally to the Gentile.” The Jewish people need to hear that their Messiah has come for them and is coming back again soon! They need to know they are loved, even if they don’t come to faith or to a congregation or church service.
With increasing anti-semitism around the world today, they need someone to offer hope and comfort in their time of need, confusion or sorrow. They may just need a true friend who will be there for them, no matter what. That is the kind of love my Christian friend and neighbor showed my mother and me when I was growing up. She always had a kind word and took the opportunity, when we were in her home, to gently remind my mother that Jesus was a Jew and he came for our people- for us. Years later, when I grew up, those words helped lead me to faith in my Messiah.
Every day presents us with an opportunity to wake up and say, “Adonai, S’fatai Tiftach, Ufi Yagid T’hilatecha – Open up my lips and let my mouth declare your praises.” Even when there’s a risk involved. Who knows? The next time you’re at a dinner party and there’s a priest, a minister, a rabbi, or maybe even an Imam present, it might be the one opportunity you have to share the good news with someone whose faith needs strengthening–to bring them one step closer to Yeshua, and in the process, your faith just might be strengthened too!
And that, my friend, is no joke!
