The Bugle and Rosh Hashanah

Long ago when houses were made of wood and straw, and no one dreamed of growing up to be a fireman (because there was no such thing), something happened that might change how you think about Rosh Hashanah. 

A young boy whistled cheerfully as he arrived at the entrance of a large market town on a sunny Saturday morning. This was the first time he had ever left his small village and he could barely contain his excitement. As he walked up the main street of the town, the boy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Market day was in full swing and vendors lined the street, calling out their wares to passers-by. 

Dust blew in his face as the boy weaved through the crowds, dodging people and animals in his path. A fresh fruit stall caught his attention but when he tried to talk to the girl running it, he could barely make himself heard above the noise of the marketplace. 

Suddenly a sharp sound pierced the air rising above the din. The atmosphere in the market changed instantly. Everyone stood still and stopped talking. Even the animals grew quiet. 

As the sound increased, the young boy looked around, eyes wide and bewildered. 

“What is it?” he asked the girl. 

“Fire!” she said anxiously. “Don’t you know the sound of a bugle?”

“What’s a bugle got to do with a fire?” 

“If there’s a fire, the watchman blows it and the fire is quickly put out.” The girl was becoming impatient with him, but this did nothing to deter the boy’s amazement. He thought of the time his family's wooden barn had burned down and the effort it took to stop it from spreading to their house. How marvellous it would be to simply blow on an instrument to put out fire.  

“Where can I get myself such an instrument?” he asked the girl.

She shot him a puzzled look but told him.

Later that day, when the boy left to return to his village, it was with great excitement and a brand-new bugle clutched in his hands. Upon arrival, he called all the people together and excitedly told them about this wonderful bugle that put out fires. To demonstrate, the boy lit the roof of the nearest hut and began to enthusiastically blow on his bugle. Of course, this did nothing to halt the spread of flames and before long the hut had burned to the ground.

The furious villagers called the boy a fool for thinking that simply blowing a bugle was enough to put out a fire. “It is only the call of an alarm, to wake up the people, if they are asleep, or to break them away from their business and work and send them to the well to draw water and put out the fire!"

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That story, based on a Jewish tale from long ago, actually emphasizes the importance of blowing the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. But what has this rather far-fetched tale got to do with a Jewish feast?

To discover this, we need to look to its origins in the Bible. The book of Leviticus records God’s instructions to the nation of Israel. “And the LORD spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel, saying, In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe a day of solemn rest, a memorial proclaimed with blast of trumpets, a holy convocation. You shall not do any ordinary work, and you shall present a food offering to the LORD.”  Leviticus 23:23-25

The trumpets mentioned in the Bible are shofars, which are ram’s horns. What we refer to as Rosh Hashanah was originally called the Feast of Trumpets. The shofar has always played a very important part in this feast and nowadays it is blown in the synagogues. 

Originally, the shofar was used for many different reasons. Watchmen of the city blew it to signify all was well, to call together the community of Israel or to warn of an attack.

Today, all three calls are sounded when the shofar is blown in the synagogue, but it was for the last one, teruah, that the holiday was named. 

If the original purpose of this call was to warn, why would God command Israel to blow the shofar during a time of peace? What was the danger?

Deuteronomy 8 talks about the danger of forgetting God and growing complacent in our need for him. God is teaching Israel to put their full trust in him and not in earthly things. Self-sufficiency and self-righteousness are real dangers and the shofar warns us to remember our need for God.

And the Rabbis make it very clear that it is not enough to only hear the shofar. Just like the village boy who foolishly trusted the sound of the bugle and did not realize that its sole purpose was a call to action, we need to remember that the shofar is an alarm intended to call us to action as well. The bugle drew attention to a physical danger (fire), and the shofar draws attention to the spiritual danger of trusting in yourself instead of God. 

In either case, simply listening is not enough.

Jesus turned the warning into a blessing when he spoke to a Jewish crowd. 

He said, “Blessed are all who hear the word of God and put it into practice.” Luke 11:28. He was encouraging people to remember that acting upon God’s word (the Bible) is what brings its rescuing power to life.

Jesus declared that He was the Messiah, but he didn’t leave it there. He called all who believed his words to follow him. It was a call to action. The dangers of self-sufficiency and self-righteousness were still very real when he gave that message. 

Rosh Hashanah continues to be a relevant holiday because human beings still struggle with these things. What kind of danger will the sound of the shofar remind you of this year? If you believe in Jesus and are following him, what might God be saying to you today? If you are unsure who Jesus is, what would make it worth finding out?

Written by Rebekah Bronn

Shalom: What is it? Who gets it?

Given at Wintonbury Church

15 September 2019

Introduction

Shalom. That’s my usual greeting when I begin a sermon, but unusually today that’s actually the theme of my sermon. Peace. Thank you to Andre and Tom, Felicia, and all those involved in my coming today, and Ruth and Tim and so many over the years who have cheered me on, either as a champion or as faithful supporters of my work with Jews for Jesus. I’ve been with the organization for 40 years serving in NYC and DC, and then in 1998 moved to launch our work in Sydney Australia. 

What is Shalom?

Shalom. It can mean ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ because often we Jews don’t know if we are coming or going. But the main translation of Shalom is ‘wholeness’ and ‘peace.’ Two days from now in Israel another election will take place with almost as many candidates as the Democrats are running here in the US for the 2020 national election. And peace is a major issue to the Israelis. You cannot imagine, unless you have lived through a war, or served in one, or been part of visiting Belfast in the 1970s or Bosnia in 1990, or as I’ve done for many years in a row, standing in Israel when the sound of a siren brings quick responses and worry to tourists. The siren goes off and we rush to panic or safe rooms or down the stairwells until the Iron Dome anti-missile system catches yet one more scud missile.

What is that feeling in the pit of your stomach, that can be titled worry or angst, stress or utter fear… what is that? It’s an admission of being out of control, that is, I’m not the one holding a grenade or sending pilots overhead with a missile. I’m not the one who can prevent such a missile from landing. We are powerless. That is our admission. And it’s the admission ticket to much more. 

Back in the 1960s, our fingers in the air in the shape of a “V” was a different symbol than it had been 20 years before. When Churchill raised his hand with the “V” sign, it had to do with a military victory over the Nazis. Victory in the “V” sign. 

But when all good hippies raised their “V” sign it was a declaration of “Peace” and almost in direct opposition to the Allies in WW2, it was a symbol of pacifism.  Peace, man. 

It certainly is a longing in the hearts of people, not only for us hippies 50 years ago gathered at Max Yasgur’s Farm in Woodstock for those three days; it’s a longing in the hearts of people in Connecticut and Sydney, in Tokyo and Buenos Aires. It’s one of those universals. It’s a deep-seated longing of all of us. Or so the sociologists declare. So Aristophanes wrote in Eirene, and since then the playwrights also declare. And I join in their declaration. 

I live in Australia and for the last few years international monitoring of the US certainly as relates to national politics and international relations, is taking up more of our news coverage. And the missing word in most conversations about Europe or Hong Kong just now is peace. People cannot speak kindly to each other; arguments and secondary boycotts are ever-present in government and civility is out the window. Why? Peace doesn’t exist. But I’m here to tell you that peace DOES exist and is available and it’s not about stomping in our neighbour’s rice paddock or keeping “those people” out of our neighbourhood. It’s not only the absence of war; it’s about something internal, and our messiah knew it well. Listen to what Yeshua said to Jewish people in his day. “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.” (John 14.27)

Peace is a matter of surrender. 

I have four grandsons, the latest born 2 months ago. And one by one, each will at times call me by title “saba” (at least that’s what I think they call me) and raise their hands for me to pick them up. That hand-raising is a symbol of surrender and of relationship. In the Torah, God told Moses“When you approach a city to fight against it, you shall offer it terms of peace. If it agrees to make peace with you and opens to you, then all the people who are found in it shall become your forced labour and shall serve you.  However, if it does not make peace with you, but makes war against you, then you shall besiege it.” 

In other words, the offer of peace was an offer of surrender. If the Hittites or the Jebusites wanted to have peace, all they had to do was surrender to the Jewish people as they entered the Land. (Deut. 20:10-12)

In the same way today, if I want peace with God, if I want peace in my life, if I want peace in human situations, then surrender (or what many in the church call “trust”) is the key. I trust God; I believe in God; I leave things in God’s hands. We sing the old hymn “I surrender all…I will ever love and trust Him. I surrender all.”

When I meet up with Jewish men and women who are prompted by God to investigate the claims of Yeshua, who are motivated by something or someone to find out if Jesus really is the messiah, I’m ever amazed at their openness. I’m delighted that Jewish people in Jerusalem, in Sydney, in New York City, and maybe even here in Connecticut are considering our message. Maybe you are here and Jewish and considering what I’m saying. Or listening online. And they ask me what they will get if they believe this, or they might ask, what did I find missing in my life when I converted. By the way, that’s their term, not mine. Seriously I have pondered what was missing, and my answer is deep: I wanted forgiveness and as a result peace with God. And I never felt it. I left the late afternoon prayers of Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, every autumn, after spending the evening before and the day in serious prayer and fasting. If you took an exit poll of the synagogue attendees that day, asking “Do you feel forgiven?” 99% would say something like, “I hope so; wouldn’t it be nice; not sure” and the like. There is always a Question Mark? But if you ask a messianic Jew, that is, a Jew like me who believes in Jesus, who has admitted his own powerlessness to amend all of life, and who has surrendered his life to the Living One, the question mark is eliminated and an exclamation mark stands in its place. Forgiven? We shout “FORGIVEN!!”

And as a result of forgiveness, we have peace with God. That’s how this works. 

I remember the story of David, a Jewish man in Australia whom I met a few months before Yom Kippur that year. His Asian-born wife was a born-again Christian and had wanted her husband to find Jesus. She brought him along to our meetings and his curiosity was heightened. When he came to our service he was listening and God opened his heart to the message. I prayed with him that evening to receive Yeshua as his Messiah and afterwards, one of us asked him, “How do you feel?” His answer: “I’m at peace.” Wow, that’s an immediate testimony to the reality about which I’m speaking. The world was the same outside that room. Their children still were whoever they were, same age in school, etc, but David’s perspective was radically changed. Why? Because he was forgiven.

Same thing two years ago in Sydney at another of our High holiday gatherings. Justin was raised in a Christian home but had walked away from it all. Then one day when he was about 23 he found out his birth father was Jewish. He was adopted. Now he had to find out what it meant to be a Jew. He moved quickly towards Orthodox Judaism, with official black and white garb, and thinking in black and white terms. Christianity was evil; Judaism was right. And on and on his determination grew to be the best Jew he could be. He listened to rabbinic podcasts and saturated himself with things and issues Jewish. 

Someone told Justin about Jews for Jesus and he wondered – could this be real? He came along to our book shop as so many do. 

In fact, since 2005, every week Jewish people who don’t believe in Jesus (yet) come into our shop, some to argue, some to ask questions, some to buy products. And we are available to them. So Justin came to a meeting we conducted and sat apart, in Orthodox garb, in borderline hostility, but still, he was present. And the welcome we extended was real. 

After a few weeks of attending our weekly Bible studies, he attended the holiday service this time of year, and when I gave the invitation, inviting anyone to profess faith in Messiah Jesus, to be forgiven, to have real peace, Justin raised his hand. We prayed publicly. The service soon ended.  And Justin didn’t move from his seat. He sat and cried and cried. Reality had struck him, Jesus had become Lord of his life, and one of our ladies approached him. “What’s wrong?” she queried. “Nothing is wrong,” he said. He told her he was ‘at peace’ for the first time in a long time. 

Shalom is more than an idea or a philosophy. Shalom is a transaction and a state. Shalom begins with God making His way to us, and then finally into us in a real and positive way. 

I admit my need for Him.

I come to believe that He has something to say to me. 

I surrender my life to Him. 

That’s how this works. 

That’s how this worked for David, and for Justin, and for so many Jewish people. And some of you Gentiles as well. 

When Jesus said “My peace I leave with you, NOT AS THE WORLD GIVES” He meant that the peace we would experience is on another level. It’s not about treaties and handshakes. It’s not Chamberlain’s “peace in our time.” It’s deep peace, in knowing you are forgiven. 

Yesterday I was out on the streets in New York City. Our Jews for Jesus teams were going out to the park near NYU to evangelise. I met a pair of Jewish men, a father and son, walking in the neighbourhood. Mark, the son, lives in another nearby state and was the first to speak with me. After the initial answers to the “What is Jews for Jesus?” question, I asked him about his beliefs and who he thought Jesus was. We had quite a good 15-minute conversation, and at the end, he gave me his contact details so I could send him more literature and information. God is opening hearts. God wants to give His people peace. (Psalm 29.11)

The Psalmist and I both encourage you to pray for the peace of Jerusalem (Psalm 122). Yes, that might involve the putting down of scud missiles and real honest dialogue between the parties. Yes, it might involve the UN, although I don’t know how that might work. But I’ll tell you that the peace of Jerusalem must include the One whose title is Prince of Peace, Sar Shalom, the One who was predicted not only in the passage of Isaiah where that phrase is first used but in dozens of other biblical passages as well. Without Jesus, the Prince of Peace, there is no real peace. There is no lasting peace. There is no significant internal peace. 

In two weeks, the Jewish high holidays will begin and continue for 10 days, ending on Yom Kippur. This, dear friends at Wintonbury, is Prime Time to share this message with your Jewish mates and colleagues. If we Jews ever think about sin, now’s the time. If we ever think about God in any year, now’s the time. The time is now to share Messiah with them. They are desperate for real peace. They may not know it, but they are hoping to hear from you about eternity. About Yeshua. About eternal life in Him. 

I have some products up the back that might help you in sharing with them. I have a signup card I’d like you to pick up at the table to fill in and let me send you information including our regular newsletters that will help you in your sharing Messiah, not only with Jewish people but with all people. And yes, I have a credit card machine (square) which you can use for donations or purchasing. It’s pretty easy.

I’m a grateful man for those Christians who shared Messiah with me back in 1971. I’m grateful for God opening my eyes to see Jesus for who He really is. He has given me a new family in the Body of Messiah. 

No matter the struggles in my life, with family, with normal circumstances of life, with governments, with my own internal matters—God is faithful to continue to be the Prince of Peace and to give me peace ‘not as the world gives.’ 

You can trust Him.

Your neighbour can trust Him. 

Yes, there is terrorism. Yes, there are mass shootings. Yes, there is international financial angst.  But…

God is in His heaven; all’s right with the world. Thanks, Robert Browning for that reminder. Thanks, Jesus for being our Prince of Peace, when the world and the storms are raging around us. He calms some of the storms. Then, no matter what else is happening, He walks with us through our storms. Thanks be to God.

If you are not yet a believer, and you are here or listening online, let me ask you to consider what God is saying to you this morning. Who do you think Jesus is? Have you come to the point where you are ready to profess Him Lord of your life? If so, join me in this prayer.

 God, I offer myself to you today. I surrender to you. You are Lord. Jesus died for my sins and rose from the dead. I admit that I'm a sinner and I need your grace to save me. Forgive me and make me whole, in Yeshua's name. Amen.

 If you prayed that prayer, please let me know, won't you?

Thanks Andre and all. 

Thanks all on the Missions committee who keep me out there.

Thanks to each of you who donates to keep us out on the field.

Thanks be to God, amen?