The Just shall live by faith
Shabbat Re'eh 25 Av 5786
By Bob Mendelsohn
7-8 August 2026
Torah (Deuteronomy 11:26- 16:17)
Haftarah (and extension): (Isaiah 54:11 - 55:13)
Greetings
Shabbat shalom.
Thank you, Rabbi Kevin, for your kind invitation, and thank you to each of you here at Beth Hallel for welcoming me today. It's always a privilege to open the Scriptures together. My prayer is that what we study this morning will strengthen this congregation, encourage God's Kingdom here in Georgia, and reach even farther through the livestream and YouTube.
Let's see what the Lord has to say to us.
Introduction
Over the last two weeks, Rabbi Kevin has been leading us in a wonderful direction.
Two weeks ago, he began with Habakkuk 2:4: "The righteous shall live by faith." He called the message "Have Faith," and reminded us from Hebrews 11 that faith is not merely believing something is true—it is trusting God enough to live accordingly. I especially appreciated his illustration of praying for his mother during her illness. Faith allows us to remain faithful.
Then last week he spoke about Caleb and the ten spies. His message was titled Tenacity. Caleb refused to surrender to fear because he trusted God's promises. As we sang, God is worthy to be praised, why? He keeps his promises. Along the way Kevin quoted his father, my dear friend Rabbi Robert Solomon of blessed memory, who said, "Hanging on is like a loose tooth."
Now, in Tennessee, where I've been spending part of the summer, we have another expression: "He's hanging on like a hair in a biscuit." I'm not recommending either illustration before dinner, but both describe perseverance. Faith keeps holding on because God is worth trusting.
Today’s parashah is Re'eh—"Look."
That simple command becomes the thread running through everything I want to say today. Because I believe this week's Torah portion, together with its Haftarah, answers one of the biggest questions many sincere believers wrestle with:
How do we obey God without becoming trapped in performance? Or to say it another way:
How do righteousness, peace and joy fit together? I want to suggest today that the answer begins with one simple command.
Look. Look to the Lord.
This is easy to say; it’s not easy to make happen. So many other things cause us to look away. We sang, “lift up your eyes and see him coming.” Like Peter in the water, he stood distracted, divided, by the water and the call of Yeshua.
My question—how do we see God when so many other things are grabbing at our attention? Today we will try to unpack the answer to that enigma.
What is the summary of the Tanakh?
There's a famous discussion in the Talmud (Makkot 24a). It traces how the 613 mitzvot were gradually summarized through Israel's history.
Moses gave us the 613 commandments.
David summarized them into eleven in Psalm 15.
Isaiah reduced them to six. (Isaiah 33:15)
Micah famously reduced them to three:
"Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God." (6.8)
Isaiah later summarized them into two: "Maintain justice and do righteousness." (56.1)
Then comes the final question. What is the one great summary of the whole Tanakh? The answer may surprise you.
Habakkuk 2:4. "The righteous shall live by faith."
That is why I appreciated Rabbi Kevin beginning there two weeks ago. He wasn't simply choosing a favourite verse. He was pointing us toward one of the great summary statements of all Scripture. And that verse becomes the key that unlocks much of what we're reading today.
What does emunah really mean?
The Hebrew word in Habakkuk is emunah. It's richer than simply "believing." It carries the ideas of faithfulness, steadfastness, trustworthiness and loyal dependence upon God. Over the centuries Jewish interpreters have understood this verse in slightly different ways.
Some emphasized our faithfulness—that God's people are called to remain loyal to Him, especially during difficult times.
Others, particularly through the Septuagint, emphasized God's faithfulness—that life depends upon His covenant promises rather than our own strength.
Still others connected faithfulness with careful obedience to Torah.
Then comes Yeshua and the writers of the New Testament. Rather than choosing only one of those ideas, they bring them together. We live because God has proved Himself faithful, supremely through Messiah Yeshua. And because He is faithful, we place our complete trust in Him.
Faith is not passive agreement. Faith is active reliance. That's why Habakkuk became such a foundational verse for Paul and for the writer to the Hebrews. (Romans 1.17; Gal. 3.11, Heb 10.38)
When I was growing up as an Orthodox Jewish boy in Kansas City, I understood religion largely in terms of performance. Be Torah compliant. Try harder. Do better. The weight rested on my shoulders.
Many sincere religious people—Jewish and Christian alike—still live that way today. But after coming to know Yeshua, I discovered something wonderfully freeing. Our acceptance before God rests first on His faithfulness, not ours. Our response matters enormously. Obedience matters. Holiness matters. Torah matters.
But they become the fruit of a relationship, not the price of admission. That changes everything. Because once you know you are right with God, something remarkable follows.
Righteousness produces peace. And peace produces joy. That's where we're going today.
Righteousness, Peace and Joy
There's a verse in Romans that has become increasingly precious to me over the years. At the end of Paul's discussion about Torah, food laws, and life together in the community of believers, he writes: "The Kingdom of God is not only about eating and drinking, but righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit." (Romans 14:17)
Notice the order. Not peace, righteousness and joy. Not joy, peace and righteousness.
First comes righteousness—being right with God. From that flows peace. And from peace comes joy. I don't think that's accidental.
So many people are trying to find peace by trying harder. They're striving to become acceptable to God. They're hoping that if they pray enough, obey enough, give enough, serve enough, perhaps then they'll finally experience peace.
But Paul reverses the order. When you know that you're right with God through His grace, peace follows naturally. And when peace settles into your soul, joy isn't far behind. That's why Paul says the Kingdom isn't ultimately about eating or drinking. It isn't about arguing over what we may eat or when we may eat it. Those discussions have their place, but they aren't the centre of the Kingdom.
The centre is this: Right with God. At peace with God. Filled with joy because of God.
Let me make one clarification. Joy is not the same thing as happiness. Happiness depends on things happening to happen the way you want them to happen. If everything goes your way today, you're happy. If it doesn't, happiness disappears almost as quickly as it arrived. Joy is different. Joy remains because your relationship with God remains. Joy is the quiet confidence that comes from knowing you belong to Him.
That's why Yeshua could say on the night before His crucifixion, "My peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you—not as the world gives." (John 14.27) And a little later, "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16.33)
Notice what He did not promise. He didn't promise an easy life. He promised His peace in the middle of a difficult life. That's a very different promise.
Paul later says of Messiah, "He Himself is our peace." (Ephesians 2.14) Not merely the giver of peace. He is our peace. When we're right with Him, peace follows. And where peace lives, joy begins to flourish.
A lesson I never forgot
May I tell you a story? More than twenty years ago, at Messiah Conference, I learned something I'll never forget.
Rabbi Robert Solomon was there, as always, with Miss Dottie. I was representing Jews for Jesus in the marketplace. One afternoon I was invited into a gathering of rabbis. The discussion turned to a book that hadn't even been published yet, but somehow it had already become controversial.
Then my friend, Rabbi Joe Bell from Tennessee, looked across the room and said, "Bob can answer that." I remember thinking, "Really?" None of us had read the book—including me. Yet suddenly I found myself standing at the front of the room answering questions about it. Most of the rabbis had welcomed the author of this book to their pulpits over the years to share his story of faith.
To be honest, it felt less like a question-and-answer session and more like an inquisition. After collecting my thoughts, I simply said, "None of us has read the book. I haven't read it. Let's not judge a brother before we've even read what he's written." The conversation continued. Questions came. Answers came. Eventually the meeting ended.
People were gracious—they even applauded. I survived. About ten minutes later Rabbi Robert walked past me in the hallway, smiled that wonderful smile of his and said, "Bobby... you dodged a bullet." I'd never heard him use that expression before. By the end of the week, he'd said it several more times. I've never forgotten it.
Not simply because it was funny. Because throughout that entire afternoon I experienced something remarkable. Peace. Not because I knew every answer. But because I honestly believed I was trying to honour the Lord with the right spirit. Sometimes peace doesn't come from having all the answers. It comes from knowing you're standing in the right place before God.
Holiness is a community project
That experience also taught me something else. One of the great temptations in both churches and Messianic congregations is to make holiness almost entirely personal. When I visit congregations around the country, I often notice something before the service even begins.
I watch where people sit.
Seriously. People naturally sit near people they know and love. If everyone is scattered with great empty spaces between them, I already know I'll have an uphill battle talking about community. Because biblical holiness was never intended to be a solo project.
Suppose today we were studying Leviticus 19. Most of us would immediately start examining our personal behaviour. How am I doing? Am I praying enough? Reading enough? Giving enough? Serving enough?
Those are good questions. But they aren't the only questions. Much of Torah isn't simply asking, "Am I holy?" It's asking, "Are we becoming holy together?"
Think about leaving the corners of the field unharvested. (Lev. 19.9-10, 23.22) That command wasn't simply about making the landowner holy. It was about feeding the poor while preserving their dignity.
Think about Job. (31.13-28). Or think about the prophets. Think about Yeshua teaching the disciples to pray,
"Our Father..." Not My Father. "Give us..." not me. "Forgive us..." "Deliver us..."
Biblical faith is wonderfully personal. But it is never merely private. We need one another. That's why encouragement matters. Like Rabbi Robert gave me that week. That's why accountability matters. That's why we pray together. That's why we confess our sins to one another. That's why congregations matter.
God isn't simply creating holy individuals. He's creating a holy people.
Resting instead of striving
Let me bring us back to this week's readings. Shabbat is God's weekly reminder that the world keeps turning even when we stop working. That's harder for some of us than we'd like to admit. If I'm always striving, I'm never truly resting. If I'm always trying to prove myself to God, I'll never enjoy the God who welcomes me. Shabbat was never intended to become another competition.
It's an invitation. An invitation to trust. An invitation to stop performing. An invitation to rest in the goodness and faithfulness of God.
Checklist Religion is how many people simplify their walk with God. If you satisfy his commandments, then you are feeling good about yourself. You think you have succeeded, and honestly, we often feel smug and prideful. Alternatively, if you fail last week, reviewing your actions or inactions, and you determine that you didn’t get a perfect score. You often feel condemned by your failures. Listen, to every checklist religionist, there are only two possible outcomes—pride or condemnation. Neither of which are from heaven.
Isaiah points us in the same direction (55.7-13)
To counter the notion of a checklist religion, listen again to our Haftarah. God says, "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways." We often quote those words in isolation but look at the context. Just before that He says, "He will abundantly pardon." That's the point.
God's ways are not our ways. If we were God, we'd probably keep score. We'd make people earn another chance. We'd remember every failure. God says, "I abundantly pardon." Do you believe that? Or do you secretly think God spends His time waiting for you to make your next mistake?
Isaiah goes on to say, "You shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace." There it is again.
Joy. Peace. Exactly where Paul takes us in Romans. When we're right with God, peace follows. When peace settles into our hearts, joy begins to overflow. No wonder Isaiah pictures the mountains singing and the trees clapping their hands. Creation itself celebrates the grace of God.
Re'eh—Look. Don't miss the title of this week's parashah.
Re'eh. Look. The rich young ruler came to Yeshua. (Mark 10.21) Mark tells us something beautiful. "Yeshua looked at him and loved him." Before He challenged him... Before He called him... Before He exposed the one thing that held his heart... He loved him. What if that's how God looks at you?
Then think about Peter. After denying Yeshua three times, the rooster crowed. Luke tells us, "The Lord turned and looked at Peter." (Luke 22.61) Can you imagine that moment? Not a look of hatred. Not a look of disgust. A look that broke Peter's heart because it reminded him that he was still loved.
Then think about Stephen. As the stones began to fall, what did he do? He looked up. He saw the glory of God. He saw Yeshua standing to welcome him home. (Acts 7.55)
Three different people. Three different situations. One command. Re'eh. Look. Look to Him.
One last story
Years ago, I heard a story about an Italian peasant who looked into the sky and became convinced that Jesus was returning. He ran to tell his parish priest. The priest looked up and immediately hurried to tell the bishop. The bishop hurried to Rome. Eventually they stood before the Pope.
"Holy Father," they cried, "look up! Jesus is coming!" The Pope went to the window and looked out and quickly returned to his desk, grabbed a pen and started writing furiously.
Finally, the peasant asked, "Holy Father... what are you doing?" The Pope replied, "Jesus is coming... Look busy!"
I love that story. Because I'm afraid that's exactly how many religious people think. "Quick! Do something religious! God's watching!" No. That's not the Gospel. That's not Isaiah. That's not Paul. That's not Yeshua.
So, what should we do?
Should we obey?
Of course. Should we pursue holiness? Absolutely. Should we care for the poor? Without question. Should we love one another deeply? Yes.
But none of those things earns God's love. They flow from God's love. Good works are the fruit of salvation. They're never the price of admission. That's why Isaiah invites us, "Why do you spend your money on what is not bread? (55.2)... Listen to Me (.2)... Come to Me (.3).. Hear, that your soul may live. (.3)"
The invitation isn't, "Try harder." The invitation is, "Come to Me."
This is the season of comfort
These weeks after Tisha B'Av are called Nachamu—and include seven weeks of comfort. For Israel, they prepare us for hope after judgment. For those of us who have found Messiah, that comfort doesn't last merely seven weeks. It lasts forever.
Isaiah says, "Turn to Me and be saved." (45.22) Not, "Impress Me." Not, "Perform for Me." Not, "Earn My approval." Turn to Me.
Conclusion
So let me leave you with the simplest word in this week's parashah.
Re'eh. Look.
Look to the One whose faithfulness never fails. Look to the One who abundantly pardons. Look to the One who makes us righteous—not because we have earned it, but because He is faithful.
And when you know you're right with Him... You'll discover peace. A Shabbat of peace, or as we say Shabbat Shalom. And beyond today, where peace lives... Joy quietly follows.
Yes, the King is coming again. Until then... Let's care for one another. Let's make holiness a community project. Let's encourage one another. Let's welcome the stranger. Let's lift the weary. And above all...
Let's not merely look busy. Let's look to Him. For the righteous shall live by faith.
Amen?
One final word.
You might know that I’ve worked with Jews for Jesus for the last 47 years and had the privilege to know your founding rabbi when this gathering was called Jewish believers and friends. I remember hosting Miss Dottie when she was going to NYC to get the Torah decorations, the rimmonim, the Ner Tamid, and making a deal. She trusted me to help her both on the Lower East Side and over in Brooklyn. Good times. I remember being there near the beginning of the congregation in Indianapolis where little Dara was learning to play piano with her family, and her dad who was a university music professor – imagine!
God has been kind to keep me for all these decades and to bring His will in my life. To help me “look up and live” (Numbers 21.4-9) like the wilderness Israelites did when the snakes were biting our life out of us. God has saved me and kept me by his promises. I’m surrendering to him, that I will look up this Shabbat, and will make this commitment again on Sunday, and God willing every day until He returns.
As a missionary, I’ve served in the US and the last 28 years in Sydney. Let us keep serving him as a fruit of our looking up to gain his life in us today and from now on.
Shabbat shalom!
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For more information about Bob, check his website TheRealBobM.com
For more information about Jews for Jesus, check the web at JewsForJesus.org
For more information about Congregation Beth Hallel, check out https://bethhallel.org/
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