On June 8, 1845, "Old Hickory" died. Wounded by a sword during the Revolutionary War, he later fought the Seminole Indians, and in the War of 1812 defeated the British at New Orleans. He was governor of the Florida Territory, and is credited with having proposed the name "Tennessee" at that State's first convention. His beloved wife Rachel died just three months before he took office as the seventh President of the United States. His name? Andrew Jackson. In reference to the Bible, President Jackson stated: "That book, Sir, is the Rock upon which our republic rests."

Federer, B. (2003). American minute. St. Louis, MO.: Amerisearch, Inc.

I talk to God
but the sky is empty.
--- Sylvia Plath


I do not believe in God,
for that implies an effort of the will
- I see God everywhere!
--- Jean Favre


... from here, there and everywhere

1   Better to be poor and live one's life uprightly
than engage in crooked speech, for such a one is a fool.

2   To act without knowing how you function is not good;
and if you rush ahead, you will miss your goal.

Stern, D. H. (1998). Complete Jewish Bible-OE
: An English version of the Tanakh (OT) and
B'rit Hadashah (NT) (1st ed.). Clarksville, Md.: Jewish
New Testament Publications.

What next?

     Determine to know more than others. If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them.--- John 13:17.

     If you do not cut the moorings, God will have to break them by a storm and send you out. Launch all on God, go out on the great swelling tide of His purpose, and you will get your eyes open. If you believe in Jesus, you are not to spend all your time in the smooth waters just inside the harbour bar, full of delight, but always moored; you have to get out through the harbour bar into the great deeps of God and begin to know for yourself, begin to have spiritual discernment.

     When you know you should do a thing, and do it, immediately you know more. Revise where you have become 'stodgy' spiritually, and you will find it goes back to a point where there was something you knew you should do, but you did not do it because there seemed no immediate call to, and now you have no perception, no discernment; at a time of crisis you are spiritually distracted instead of spiritually self-possessed. It is a dangerous thing to refuse to go on knowing.

     The counterfeit of obedience is a state of mind in which you work up occasions to sacrifice yourself; ardour is mistaken for discernment. It is easier to sacrifice yourself than to fulfil your spiritual destiny, which is stated in Romans 12:1–2 . It is a great deal better to fulfil the purpose of God in your life by discerning His will than to perform great acts of self-sacrifice. "To obey is better than sacrifice." Beware of harking back to what you were once when God wants you to be something you have never been. "If any man will do …, he shall know.…"

Chambers, O. (1993). My Utmost for His Highest

To one kneeling down no word came,
Only the wind' s song, saddening the lips
Of the grave saints, rigid in glass;
Or the dry whisper of unseen wings,
Bats not angels, in the high roof.

Was he balked by silence? He kneeled long
And saw love in a dark crown
Of thorns blazing, and a winter tree
Golden with fruit of a man's body.

R.S. Thomas Collected Poems

          Exodus 19:16–17 / On the third day, as morning dawned, there was thunder, and lightning, and a dense cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud blast of the horn; and all the people who were in the camp trembled. Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of the mountain.

     MIDRASH TEXT / Yalkut Shimoni, Yitro 283 / And they took their places at the foot of [lit., under] the mountain (Exodus 19:17). Rabbi Avdimi bar Ḥama bar Ḥasa said, "This teaches that the Holy One, praised is He, suspended the mountain over them like a cask, saying to them, 'If you accept the Torah, good; and if not, there will be your graves!' "

     His name was Avdimi, or more properly Avdemus, which was a hebraized form of the Greek name Eudemos. We don't know for certain where he lived—Israel or Babylonia. We don't even know when: Was it early third century, or late fourth? We know that his father's name was Ḥama, and that his grandfather's was probably Ḥasa. We also know that Avdimi was a Rabbi.

     Unlike Rabbi Akiva, about whom there are so many stories and legends, Avdimi remains a mystery to us. He is mentioned only a few times in the Talmud and in the Midrash. Yet perhaps it is because we know so little about him that he seems so fascinating. We can speculate about his life, his appearance, and his personality. And as we try to imagine who this Avdimi really was, we put a little of ourselves into the portrait, so that what emerges is an ancient figure with all of our modern sensibilities.

     He grew up on Bible stories—the creation in seven days, Adam and Eve, Noah's Ark, Abraham almost sacrificing Isaac, Jacob and Esau, Joseph's "coat of many colors," Moses at the "burning bush." Then, later, he learned about the laws in the Torah: "You shall not murder"; "Six days you shall labor … but the seventh day is a Sabbath of the Lord …"; circumcision on the eighth day; no leavened bread during Passover; fringes on the corners of one's clothes; "You shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field"; caring for the widow and orphan.

     And with the stories and laws that Avdimi had heard from his parents and his teachers came questions. So many questions: Is this really true? Could that actually have happened? How could God have allowed this to take place? Why did the Jews do what they did? What is the meaning of this law? What is the point of that ritual? Why don't the promises of the Torah come to pass?

     As he grew older, Avdimi came to realize that so much of his Jewish tradition and his religious heritage was to be found not only in the Torah, or even in the rest of the Bible. Rather, there were stories and sermons, tales and lessons, interpretations, explanations, and commentaries that were attributed to a class of wise men and scholars known as "the Rabbis." He heard these Rabbinic insights in the Shabbat D'rashot, or sermons, in the synagogue, and he learned even more as he sat as a student in the study house.

As he learned more and more, and as he heard the words of Midrash and Mishnah repeated over and over again, Avdimi began to ask more questions: Who were these Rabbis? Where did all these stories they told come from? Did they have a source of secret knowledge or did they just make up and invent all their information? And if so, how dare they add to or change the sacred tradition! Yet, if they did, why did they do it? And what methods did they use?

     As Avdimi reached manhood, he decided to devote himself to the ancient traditions, to study and to teach the sacred texts, to become a "Master," a Rabbi. He taught in the beit midrash and preached in the synagogue. People came to him seeking his instruction: how to observe Shabbat and holidays; what to do after mistakenly mixing dairy and meat; who owned an article of clothing claimed by two different people? And they also came to him seeking his counsel, his advice, and his wisdom in matters both religious and personal.

     Over and over again, "our" Rabbi Avdimi met with Jews who (as we in the twenty-first century imagine them) were ambivalent about their Judaism and about their ties to the Torah itself:

• the young man who was afraid of the many obligations and
     responsibilities that had been placed on his shoulders;
• the young woman who wanted to study about and accept
     these many obligations and responsibilities of the Jew
     but who couldn't;
• the convert who, while eager to become a Jew, was also
     concerned with being truly accepted as a full member of
     the Jewish people;
• the man who would have liked to spend more time
     learning the sacred texts but who was so busy making a
     living and trying to support his family that he never got
     around to it.

     In the days before the Torah portion containing the revelation at Mount Sinai was to be read in the synagogue, Rabbi Avdimi sat and studied it. He read its words over and over. And he couldn't help but think of the Jews in his community who came to pray each Shabbat (and those who didn't!) who brought him their questions, their doubts, and their challenges. As he prepared his weekly D'rashah, he had them in mind. On Shabbat morning, as the Torah was taken from the ark, Rabbi Avdimi began his sermon by reading from the story of the giving of the Torah at Sinai. He emphasized one verse in particular: "And they took their places at the foot of the mountain" (Exodus 19:17).

     "This verse teaches us," Rabbi Avdimi began, "that the Holy One, praised is He, suspended the mountain over them like a cask, saying to them, 'If you accept the Torah, good; and if not, there will be your graves!' "

     Those sitting in the congregation looked at one another, puzzled. They had never heard this version of the story before. As far as they knew, the Israelites had willingly accepted the Torah at Mount Sinai. According to sermons they had heard in previous years, the Israelites told Moses before the Torah was given, "All that the Lord has spoken we will do!" (Exodus 19:8). Then immediately after the Ten Commandments were proclaimed, they reaffirmed: "All the things that the Lord has commanded we will do!" (Exodus 24:3). But now, Rabbi Avdimi had completely changed the story. God was threatening the Israelites by holding a mountain over their heads: If they chose to accept the Torah, God would return the mountain back where it belonged; if they rejected the Torah, God would drop Mount Sinai on top of their heads, killing them and burying them all in one fell swoop.

     "What chutzpah!" one congregant whispered.

     "Where is that written?" another wanted to know.

     "How does he know what happened at Sinai. Was he there?" another objected.

     Rabbi Avdimi continued. "Let me explain.… The Torah uses a peculiar Hebrew phrase, 'And they took their places בְּתַחְתִּית הָהָר/b'taḥtit ha-har, at the foot of the mountain.' But the word תַּחְתִּית/taḥtit actually means 'under' or 'beneath.' Now, of course, the P'shat, the simple meaning of the verse, is that the people were gathered at the bottom of the mountain. But I began to think: Maybe God chose this particular word precisely because it could be understood two ways—idiomatically as well as literally. The people stood at the foot of the mountain. And, the people stood underneath the mountain. I asked myself: How could the people stand underneath the mountain? Only if God uprooted Mount Sinai and held it over their heads! But why would God do such a thing? Perhaps it was to threaten the Israelites. Why would God want to do that? Perhaps because the Israelites were not really so willing to accept the Torah!

     "But you might say to me: 'Rabbi! Doesn't it say, both before and after they received the Torah, how willing the Israelites were to accept it?' And of course, you're right. But maybe that's the point: Both understandings of the story may be true. The Israelites wanted the Torah and yet, at the same time, they had to be forced to accept it.

     "I'm sure the young man who had his first Aliyah to the Torah this morning trembled, just as the Israelites did at Mount Sinai. He is, no doubt, happy to have come of age and to no longer be considered a child. But at the same time, he is afraid of the responsibilities that maturity demands of him.

     "What Jewish homemaker does not look forward with joy to her family gathered around the table for the Passover Seder? And yet at the same time, she dreads all the hard work and preparation that the holiday requires.

     "I know that many of you desperately want to come and learn Torah, and aggadah, and Mishnah with me, but you are also afraid that you won't know enough and you won't be able to keep up, and that you are afraid of appearing foolish.

     "And this mixture of opposite feelings applies to all aspects of our lives. Remember how when we were little, and we got sick, our mothers made us—forced us!—to take the bitter medicine. We knew it would make us well, and we were desperate to get better and go outside again to play. But at the same time, had we not been forced, we might not have taken the medicine.

     "Well, apparently God had to do the same thing for the children of Israel. 'Yes,' God said, 'the Torah is difficult. Yes, accepting the mitzvot, all of the commandments, is a very weighty matter. But sometimes, the hard things that at first seem unpleasant turn out to be good for you in the long run.' Sometimes in life we need to be forced to do the right thing. Only later do we understand, and appreciate, what it was that we were forced to do.

     "The P'shat of the verse is that the Israelites stood at the foot of the mountain and gladly accepted the Torah. But as I searched into the words, and then as I looked at the world, I came to this Midrash: God suspended the mountain over the heads of the people, and forced them to do what otherwise they might not have done.

     "We are not so different from our ancestors at Sinai who had a mountain hanging over them. At times, we feel put-upon, or we feel afraid of what our tradition requires of us. Those feelings are quite normal. The key is not running away, recognizing that in the end we will be better off because of the Torah.

     "As we now read the story of our people at Mount Sinai and hear the Ten Commandments, let us imagine that we are there as well. Let us imagine that we stand at the foot of Sinai, but let us also understand that the mountain is being held over our heads. Let us therefore accept the Torah willingly, even as we are being forced to do so."

     The congregation sat quietly for a moment, digesting the Rabbi's D'rashah.

     "I don't get it," one congregant whispered to his friend. "Explain to me again how he came up with that story."

     "I don't like it," another congregant objected. "The Torah is very clear about what happened. Where does he get off making up this new version?"

     "It's brilliant!" a third congregant uttered in admiration. "What the Rabbi described is exactly how I've always felt! But I was too guilty to ever say it out loud. Now he's told us that it's perfectly normal. I feel much better about my fears and doubts. And to think that the answer was right there all along, in the words of the Torah. You just have to know where to look, and how to search.…"

     In 1992, the two of us began to meet weekly, as a ḥavruta, studying Talmud. Sitting together, we tried to figure out how we could teach these same texts to our congregants and students who were constantly asking us, in many different ways, the critical question: "What does Judaism have to say to us about the issues we face today?" We believed that the classic texts of the Jewish people offer much wisdom and guidance; the more we studied together, the more we were convinced of that. The problem was that the texts were inaccessible to most Jews. There was, of course, the language problem: most of our congregants were not fluent in Hebrew or Aramaic. But there was a deeper problem: Rabbinic texts were composed in a different time and place, and even in translation they seemed unfathomable because they were written in a style that was so foreign and dealt with topics that were so arcane. Gradually, we developed an approach to teaching that explained the classic texts and showed how they offered much that was still relevant to us today.

     We presented brief sections of Talmud text; each segment contained a pitgam, a maxim. We explained the context of the section, trying to bring all the background material that would be necessary for understanding it. We then offered a D'rash, a contemporary application of that text. After trying out this approach to Talmud with our students, we put the results into a book, Swimming in the Sea of Talmud: Lessons for Everyday Living, published by The Jewish Publication Society in 1997.

     Having taught our students how to begin to "swim in the sea of Talmud," we wanted to continue to introduce contemporary Jews—and others—to the beauty of the classic Jewish heritage. At the same time, we had gained so much from our ḥavruta study experience that the two of us looked forward to the opportunity of studying together again, of poring over Rabbinic texts and searching for their contemporary meaning. We put our new focus on another great genre of Rabbinic literature, Midrash.

     The Talmud is a record of the discussions of the amora'im, the Rabbis who studied and discussed the Mishnah from about the third century to approximately the seventh century. The Mishnah and Gemara, the two parts of the Talmud, are organized by theme under six major topical headings.

     The Midrash, on the other hand, is organized not by topic but, for the most part, as commentaries to individual books of the Bible. There are dozens of different collections of Midrash. Sometimes they are a verse-by-verse explication of the text; at other times they use a particular verse as the basis for a short sermon.

     We have adopted for this book a similar approach to the one we used in Swimming in the Sea of Talmud. A selection of Midrash text with its pitgam (maxim) is presented. We then explain the text, and bring our own applications in the D'rash sections. We have organized the book following the order of the Ḥumash, the five books of the Torah.

     We have entitled this book Searching for Meaning in Midrash. The Hebrew word מִדְרָשׁ/Midrash comes from a root that means "to search." Our search has led us to invaluable finds. We have searched for, and have found, a closer relationship as friends and study partners. We have searched for, and have found, a fuller understanding of the world of the Rabbis where the Midrash texts were written. And we have searched for, and have found, a deeper appreciation of the incredible wisdom in these sacred Midrash texts. We pray that you, too, will search, and will find.

Katz, M., & Schwartz, G. Searching for Meaning in Midrash: Lessons for Everyday Living Philadelphia, PA: The Jewish Publication Society.

     "You are Simon the son of Jonah. You shall be called Cephas" (which is translated, A Stone). --- John 1:42 NKJV

     When the disciples found that miraculous draught of fishes enclosed in their nets, it was only on Peter's soul that there flashed a new sense of the holiness and majesty of Christ, and of the whole apostolic company he was the only one to fall at Christ's feet and cry, "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!" The model prayer;: A series of expositions on "The Lord's Prayer", When after those hard sayings in Capernaum the crowds were deserting Jesus Christ, he turned to his disciples with the pathetic, heartbreaking question, "Do you also want to go away?" (NKJV). It was to Peter's generous and loving soul that there came the great and immortal answer, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." And when again, in Ceasarea, Christ made that wistful inquiry, "Who do you say I am?" it was the inspired Peter who made that high reply, "The Christ of God."

     Yes, when I read of the incident on the lake and the answer in Capernaum and the confession in Caesarea, I do not wonder that the first place among the Twelve was given to a man of such insight and vision and rapture as this.

     But there are other passages in the Gospels that, when I read, I marvel that Peter was among the Twelve at all. When I come across those passages in which Peter begins to boast, when I read of his presuming to correct and rebuke the Christ, when I read about his sleeping in the garden, when I read of that terrible and shameful episode in the judgment hall, I marvel that instead of coming down to us as the prince and chief of the apostles, Peter, the denier and the blasphemer, did not make his bed with Judas the betrayer in the lowest hell.

     Is it possible, you say, for one to see the glory of the Lord on the mount and then to forsake him in the garden? Is it possible for one to confess Christ in Caesarea and then forswear him in the judgment hall? Yes, it is quite possible. Gaze steadily and bravely into that awful abyss, your own heart, and you will know it is quite possible. For in your own heart you will see both heaven and hell, aspirations and desires born of God and hideous lusts of foulnesses that issue from the pit. Yes, I will be very bold to say we can parallel Peter's history by our own. Heaven and hell contended for the mastery in Peter's heart long ago; heaven and hell are contending for the mastery in our divided and distracted souls today.
--- J. D. Jones

Wallis, D. (2001). Take Heart: Daily Devotions with the Church's Great Preachers (27). Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications.

     The three children have taught us about the grace of God, and Gomer has taught us about the holiness of God. Now Hosea will teach us about the love of God.

     "Hosea takes his place among the greatest lovers of all the ages," wrote Kyle M. Yates. "His love was so strong that the vilest behavior could not dull it.… Gomer broke his heart but she made it possible for him to give to the world a picture of the heart of the divine Lover." (Preaching from the Prophets ) God's love promised (Hosea 2:14–23). The repeated "I will" statements in these verses assure us that God has a wonderful future planned for the Jewish people. Let's note His promises.

     He begins with "I will allure" (v. 14). God doesn't try to force His people to love him. Instead, He "allures" (woos) them as a lover woos his beloved, seeking her hand in marriage. Certainly God spoke tenderly to His people through His Word and through the manifold blessings He bestowed on them in their land. Just as He led her through the wilderness and "married" her at Sinai, so God will meet His beloved in the wilderness in the last days and lead her into her land and her glorious kingdom.

     The next promise is "I will give" (v. 15) as the Lord guarantees a return to their land and a restoration of their prosperity. Once again, the Lord changes the meaning of a name, this time, "the Valley of Achor." To Israel, the Valley of Achor ("trouble") was the place where Achan stole from God and brought shameful defeat to Israel's army (Josh. 7), but that memory would be erased from their minds. The valley would become a "door of hope" through which Israel would enter into a new life. The experience would produce singing, as when Israel escaped from Egypt and saw her enemies defeated before their very eyes (Ex. 14–15). "And Sharon shall be a fold of flocks, and the valley of Achor a place for the herds to lie down in, for My people that have sought Me" (Isa. 65:10). This is an Old Testament version of Romans 8:28, for only the Lord can take defeat and shame and turn it into victory and glory.

     God's third promise is "I will take away" (Hosea 2:16–17). God declares an end to idolatry among His people. They would have a new vocabulary and the "baals" would never be named again. "Ishi" means "my husband" in Hebrew and "Baali" means "my master." Both terms were used by Jewish wives when addressing their husbands, but in the future kingdom, every Jew will call God "my Husband," for the divine marriage relationship will be restored. Israel will no longer prostitute herself before idols, but will love and serve the true living God.

     God's fourth promise is "I will betroth" (vv. 18–20). God's wooing of Israel will result in her yielding to Him and entering into a covenant relationship that would never end. This new covenant will include a restored creation (see Gen. 9:1–10; Rom. 8:18–22) and peace among the nations. Among the "wedding gifts" will be such blessings as righteousness, justice, love, compassion, and faithfulness—everything that Israel had lacked during her years of separation from her Husband, Jehovah God.

     The fifth promise is "I will respond" (Hosea 2:21–22, NIV), (KJV, "I will hear"). These two verses describe a tremendous cosmic conversation in which the Lord speaks to the heavens and the earth and they respond to each other and bring blessings to God's people. The heavens send the rain, the earth brings forth the produce, and the Lord sends His rich blessings. It's the picture of a restored universe where sin and death no longer reign (Rom. 5:12–21).

     The final promise in this text is "I will plant" (Hosea 2:23, NIV). The word "Jezreel" means "God sows." The image is that of God sowing His people in their land the way a farmer sows seed. He says to them, "You are My people!" They respond, "You are my God!" (NIV) This relates back to the names of the children that God in His grace had changed.

     God's love pictured (Hosea 3:1–5). This is another "action sermon" as Hosea reclaims his estranged wife and brings her home to himself. Gomer had left Hosea and was living with a lover, another picture of the way Israel had treated the Lord. Hosea had to buy her back at a cost of fifteen pieces of silver (half the price of a slave, Ex. 21:32) and about ten bushels of barley. This was not an exorbitant price, but she had cheapened herself by her sins. We need to remember that God has purchased us at the tremendous cost of the precious blood of His only Son (1 Peter 1:18–19).

     Hosea 3:3 suggests that Hosea didn't immediately enter into intimate relations with Gomer, but waited awhile to make sure she would be true to him. It's also possible that he wanted to make sure she wasn't pregnant with another man's child. But even this has a spiritual message attached to it: Israel today, though purchased by their Messiah (John 11:47–52; Isa. 53:8), has not yet returned to the Lord.

     Israel today is without a king because she rejected her King and therefore has no kingdom. "We will not have this man to reign over us" (Luke 19:14). "We have no king but Caesar" (John 19:15). She has no prince because there is no reigning dynasty in Israel. All the records were destroyed when the Romans captured Jerusalem in A.D. 70, and nobody can prove to which tribe he or she belongs.

     The Israelites have no sacrifice because they have no temple, altar, or priesthood. They don't have a pillar (image) or a household god (teraphim), because idolatry was purged from their culture during the Babylonian Captivity. (Like the Gentiles, they may have other kinds of idols in their hearts!) They lack an ephod (Ex. 28:1–14), because they have no high priest. The only High Priest God will acknowledge is the interceding Son of God in heaven.

     But there is an "afterward"! Israel won't stay "without," for she will see her Messiah, repent of her sins, and say, "You are my God!" They will enter into that blessed relationship in which the Lord says, "You are My people!" This will occur in "the latter days" when the messianic King sits on David's throne and judges righteously (Matt. 19:28; Luke 1:32–33).

     The key word is "return" (Hosea 3:5), a word that's used twenty-two times in Hosea's prophecy. When Israel repents and returns to the Lord, then the Lord will return to bless Israel (2:7–8). God has returned to His place and left Israel to herself (5:15) until she seeks Him and says, "Come, and let us return to the Lord" (6:1, NKJV).

     This is Hosea's message: "O Israel, return to the Lord thy God.… Take with you words, and turn to the Lord: say unto Him, 'Take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously' " (14:1–2).

     That prayer is good for any sinner, Jew or Gentile. To summarize:

     God is gracious, and no matter what "name" our birth has given to us, He can change it and give us a new beginning. Even the "valley of trouble" can become a "door of hope."

     God is holy and He must deal with sin. The essence of idolatry is enjoying the gifts but not honoring the Giver. To live for the world is to break God's heart and commit "spiritual adultery."

     God is love and promises to forgive and restore all who repent and return to Him. He promises to bless all who trust him.

W. W. Wiersbe, (1996) Be Amazed (Minor Prophets): Restoring an Attitude of Wonder and Worship (The BE Series Commentary)