First in a series on Israel and what we can learn from the Jewish people.
“As high as heaven is over the earth, so strong is his love to those who fear him. And as far as sunrise is from sunset, he has separated us from our sins.” — Psalm 103:11 (Message)
As El Al Flight number 027 to Tel Aviv pulled back from the gate in Chicago, my wife and I were pleased that no one had taken the third seat beside us in our row. It meant that we could stretch out a little during the long flight that was before us to Israel. It would be six thousand four hundred and thirty six miles to be exact, and over thirteen hours in the air, not counting a stop in Newark, New Jersey. But it was a free trip so we were really excited at the prospect of our first time to the Holy Land.
The stop in Newark was fairly brief but as people began to board the plane, they kept coming and coming and coming—until every seat, including the one next to me was occupied. We began to wonder if the Boeing 777 could ever get off the ground. It did, of course—and that’s when I met Jonathan, who was now squeezed in the seat next to me. So much of our anticipated comfort.
Jonathan was a Hasidic Jew or more commonly referred to as a “religious” Jew. They are hard to miss because of their distinctive dress—black hats, white open collar dress shirts, black jackets and pants. Some had untouched straggly beards, some were shaven. All had tallits (prayer shawls) and little curls (payos) of one shape or another hanging from the sides of their heads. These were cultic Jews, the Pharisees of our day, who were bound by rules, regulations, ordinances and traditions that many believe their beloved Torah (The Law or the first five books of Moses) never commanded but their favorite rabbi encouraged.
About three hours into the flight, after we had eaten dinner, I began a conversation with Jonathan. You know how it starts, “Where are you from? What do you do? Are you married? How many children do you have?” Jonathan asked me what I did and I replied, “Well, I’m a Christian church pastor. That’s kind of like a rabbi, I suppose, and I’m going to the Holy Land for the very first time. I’m from New Mexico. Do you know where that is?” He didn’t. “What do you recommend we see in Israel?” And we were off and running for the next hour.
Sitting next to a pastor seemed to peak his interest in Christianity so our conversation eventually led to our mutual beliefs about God and Jesus. He was not offended when I shared my views with him but he had two concepts that were very disturbing to me. One was the idea that all Christians hated the Jews and the other was we thought all Jews were under a curse. I told him that I couldn’t speak for all Christians but that my wife and I loved the Jewish people for several reasons. One is that Christianity came out of Judaism. Jesus was a Jew and so were his followers and we believe that he was the Messiah who was promised in the Hebrew scriptures (the Old Testament).
I told him that the apostle Paul was a converted rabbinic Jew, who became one of the greatest of all Christian teachers. Paul wrote that there was a distinct advantage of one being a Jew, and that was that “they have been entrusted with the very words of God” (Romans 3:2). If indeed they were under a curse, then so were the Gentiles who refused to believe in the Messiah, as well.
Then I asked him what his belief was about God. “Who is God to you, Jonathan?” He said that he believed God was a force, a presence so to speak, who spoke through the Torah but was unapproachable and required many good works to gain his favor and even then there was no assurance of forgiveness. “Does God hear your many prayers that you are required to say several times a day?” I asked. He said he was not sure but he hoped so.
It was then that I opened my Bible to the Old Testament and Psalm 103. We read the first few verses together. “Praise the LORD, O my soul and forget not all of his benefits . . . who forgives all your sin and heals all your diseases . . . who redeems your life from the pit . . . who satisfies your desires with good things . . . who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger . . . abounding in steadfast love . . . (Psalm 103:1-5, 8).
“Jonathan, does that sound like an unapproachable, impersonal God or force to you?” He seemed to be struggling for an answer so I took the pressure off of him by continuing. “Jonathan, your scriptures tell us that the LORD is a personal, loving, forgiving and compassionate God. That’s the way he revealed himself to Moses and that’s the way he shows himself to his people. And that’s the way he has showed himself to my wife and me. And I believe that’s the way he wants to reveal himself to you.”
It was past midnight when we both became silent along with most of the others as our bodies began to beg for rest. Sleeping was difficult so I silently prayed for Jonathan that he would ponder our conversation and especially that he would read Psalm 103 for himself. “Oh, God, let him see you as you really are and draw his heart to your son, Jesus” (John 6:44).
That was also my morning prayer for my new friend, as we landed in Tel Aviv. When we left the plane together, he said how he hoped to see me again someday in New Mexico and thanked me for our conversation. I said that would be nice. But I thought to myself as he disappeared into the terminal how much nicer it would be to see him again, in heaven.
I still pray for Jonathan from time to time when he comes to my mind. Did our brief conversation sow a seed that took hold and sent down deep roots? Only the Holy Spirit knows for sure. Someday I’ll know for sure, as well. Maranatha!
