Biblical Simplicity: Spiritual Revelations for a Physical World

The Creation account and much of Genesis are spiritual revelations rendered into physical descriptive dimensions—realities that are out of this world, but perhaps not another dimension as commonly understood. The dichotomy between nature (physis) and grace (supernatural ) has shaped Western thought, often leading to debates on certainty within Christianity, Post Maimonidean Judaism, and Islam, as they all unite in Classical Theism, not Theistic Personalism.These debates reflect humanity’s ongoing desire to understand the knowledge of good and evil and the divine image within us. 

However, this pursuit is fraught with hubris, as reason and presuppositions often distort spiritual truths, keeping us bound to their binary frameworks rather than true first principles. A reexamination of these foundations is necessary, holding firmly to Biblical authority while recognizing the limits of human interpretive methods. Only through exhibiting humility can we grasp how our spiritual fall transforms physical reality.

Adam, HaAdam, and the Two Realities of Creation

The Creation narrative in Genesis begins with HaAdam, a term distinct from the Second Adam in Genesis 4:25. This original Adam marks the revelatory beginning of the Hebrew calendar, about 6,000 years ago. The Previous HaAdam and Eve fell from the realm of Yetzirah (formation) into Assiya (action)— perhaps a spiritual descent mirrored in the “skins” they were clothed in, after a literal ‘Fall’ from another dimension? According to empirical pursuits, their offspring populated the earth, with lineages connecting with Neanderthals, as corroborated by genetic evidence. These origins, verified by data back 200,000 years, invite us to consider not just who the first humans were, but when and where they existed—a question perhaps pointing us toward the heavens, our ultimate destination? Space is the place!

Cain, Abel, and the Spiritual Re-Creation of Adam

Genesis reveals a foundational myth of fratricide in the story of Cain and Abel, reflecting broader human struggles. Cain may symbolize Homo sapiens, Abel the Neanderthals, (who knows?) both representing humanity’s fractured beginnings. However, the narrative introduces a transformative break with the birth of Seth in Genesis 4:25 which is easily missed. Nevertheless, and this is the point, this Second Adam is not HaAdam of Genesis 1–4 but a later spiritually re-created figure. Seth’s lineage is a righteous one, contrasting with the already multiplying fallen line of Cain who had seven succesive generations.

I do NOT agree with the gist of this video 

and its portrayal of Rabbinical Judaism, 

but to shift the ‘OVERTON WINDOW’ of Christianity is important!

 

The belief that the ‘sons of God were angels

 that mated with humans needs a corrective.

Here is a response by Jo on the video 

The Nephilim, or “fallen ones,” emerge from HaAdam’s corrupted lineage. They are perhaps not so much mythical giants but symbolic of spiritual and moral corruption. The “sons of God,” descendants of Seth, sought to redeem the “daughters of men,” the line of Cain, for the seed of the woman is instructive. Yet corruption persisted, eventually culminating in the flood and Noah’s preservation as a remnant of a righteousness man.

The Spiritual Image and Restoration in Christ

The original HaAdam bore the image of God but fell, requiring spiritual restoration. Jesus, the Alpha and Omega as the Second Adam, embodies this restoration, enabling worship in spirit and truth. The Nephilim, described as “fallen faces,” are potentially redeemed in Christ, who restores the divine image to humanity.

The post-Babel narrative connects the Nephilim to the concept of Jinn in Judeo-Arabic traditions, and ultimately to the term “Gentile”. The domain of the nations emerges as contextual where true spiritual transformation long for our mother above. Importantly, these corrupted lineages reflect the powers and principalities that oppose God’s sovereignty, emphasizing that the confusiong term Israel’s identity is spiritual rather than tied to any earthly nation-state that promotes racism and copies a  ‘nationalism’ into distortion.

The Angel of the Lord and the Messiah’s Mission

Throughout the Old Testament, the eternal Son manifests as the Angel of the Lord, the Word, and the Name of God. The Messiah’s mission unfolds in two dimensions: Messiah ben Joseph, a suffering servant, and Messiah ben David, a conquering king yet to be fully revealed. Jesus of Nazareth fulfills the former and is widely undertood to inaugurate the latter, bridging spiritual restoration and physical reality.

In His baptism by John, Jesus submitted to the law, stepping into the role of a Ger Toshav (resident alien) to redeem the lost sheep of Israel. His genealogy in Matthew affirms His Davidic lineage, while Luke’s genealogy emphasizes His spiritual mission. This duality highlights Jesus as both the perfect human and the divine Savior.

Eschatology and the Unity of Humanity

The physical and spiritual dimensions converge in eschatology. While ethnic and cultural Jewish identity remains significant for the sake of the meta-narrative, the ultimate focus is spiritual: the New Jerusalem and the restoration of creation. Nationalisms and racial distinctions fall away in light of the Great Commission, which calls all humanity to the obedience of faith.

Fantasy interpretations, such as angel-human hybrids, distract from the simplicity of the Biblical message. The Nephilim and other elements of Genesis should be understood as symbols of spiritual realities, not as fodder for speculative mythology. The focus must remain on Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of God’s promises and the Savior of all humanity and the redeemed role.

Conclusion: Simplicity in Christ

The 66 books of the Bible provide all we need to know Christ and His plan for humanity. Apocryphal and non-canonical texts may offer historical insights, but they are secondary to the Spirit’s work in illuminating Scripture. Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah, is the answer to humanity’s deepest questions about purpose, identity, and salvation.

We are one human race, united in our need for a Savior. Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection empower believers to live out spiritual truths in the physical world. Through Him, we rediscover the divine image and participate in His story—a story that transforms both individuals and creation itself.

👉 HaAdam vs. Adam

Jesus the Pharisee

A Liturgical Drama with an Earthy Jesus

The television-style series The Chosen presents an “earthy” Jesus, portrayed with warmth and humor, akin to liturgical drama—a form that, interestingly, aligns with how the early  Qur’anic texts were drama plays, yet later revised according to the Hadith transmission but with the coopting of the Abassids.

Now in its fourth season, the series has sparked ecumenical controversy, particularly surrounding Jonathan Roumie’s portrayal of Jesus, which reflects his Catholic-Orthodox background. His visit to the Pope alongside creator Dallas Jenkins further fueled debate, especially with revelations about Mormon producers’ involvement in the series.

However, an ecumenical gap remains: Jenkins included a IMHO a questionable Messianic rabbi (who clarifies the dynamics between two Pharisaic schools but that’s about it) and a Catholic priest, along with Evangelical voices—but no Muslim scholars. If the goal was true interfaith inclusivity, this absence is notable.

Still, the series resonates with a broad audience, as the public gravitates toward its dramatic storytelling and unifying elements. Perhaps its greatest success will be deepening biblical literacy—stirring the heart while prompting viewers to return to the New Testament text and live by its transformative message. 

One novelty of the series — among the other productions of the life of Jesus of Nazareth, which depict him more celestial — is his engagement between two historically verifiable schools of Pharisees, which the Rabbi consultant does affirm—known as Shammai and Hillel, which play out within the series and the drama. The latter aligned with Jesus’ teachings. The former was in control of the Sanhedrin and nationalists. The Sadducees inspired such nationalism through its political wing in a coalition with King Herod and by a terror wing of extremist assassin Zealots. Jesus recruited from these nationalists to renounce their evil ways; here, this ‘earthy’ Jesus’ pacifism finds traction in a realistic presentation that confronts the hyper—grace & faith only caricature of the proclamation of His gospel with His Jewish observance. 

Thus, amid the many strong words Jesus used against certain Pharisees, probably Shammaites, he most importantly told His followers to obey them (Matthew 23:1- 3), “Do what they say for they sit in the seat of Moses.” Still, conflations of legalists with hypocrite Pharisees permeate our understanding. So, going against those with authority in the Qehela (the governing assembly within the synagogue) is a valid question, especially if Jesus was one of the Hillites or at least received by them. What gave him the authority to call out the clergy and highlight a religion, not an ethnic group framed as a nation? Along political lines, it seems that Jesus of Nazareth had no interest in overthrowing Rome. His mission was religious or spiritual.

Moreover, he proclaimed religion as a spiritual action. When Jesus stated: “Don’t do what they do,” he affirmed the Qehal following Jew over the Shammuti school or show-off Scribes and Pharisees, including opportunistic sola scriptura bound Sadducees who had no desire for Oral Torah observance. After all, who was the Apostle Paul but a Hillite taught by Gamaliel, who indeed echoed the position of our Lord against the ruling Sadducees and Shammaites, perhaps in a time of political and nationalistic manipulation? Again, these groups received His harshest words. They all went against Jesus of Nazareth and his inspiration toward the mission to the lost sheep of Israel, which came in many varieties due to the diversity of such an ethnic outreach and the grafting in (i.e., Idumea or Edom) and eventually the Gentiles or nations near and afar a process that has happened since Abraham’s Hagar (The Ger). 

Shammaites and Sadducees most likely define the majority opinion of the Jew or Judean ethnocentric nationalists, mentioned in The Gospel of John, who stood against the old faith through political alignments and religious alliances, for their kingdom was the total of this world with or without Rome and where the Idumeans eventually transferred their alignment with power. Christian and ethnic Jewish nationalism is no novelty, and religious conscience is something utterly other than genuinely spiritual. 

Therefore, the impulse of the Great Commission, salvation for all peoples, was also nothing new; it was just ‘Great’ in scope, inspired and aided by Hillite Pharisees onward toward Paul in The Book of Acts.

Jesus and Paul were not that different, contrary to popular opinion. They demonstrate that the New Testament, as a text of the Oral Torah, was recorded to create Hebrew believers and to be authoritative in doctrine. The context of the gospel points toward living as the righteous in the security of God’s purposes over earthly aspirations.

👉 Read: Jesus the Pharisee
A New Look at the Jewishness of Jesus
👉 Buy on Amazon
👉 YouTube: Obey the Pharisees
👉 The Anti-Christ

 

The above comparision is NOT quite right, showing that post WWII Messianic Jewish and Hebrew Rooters are not the Qehela and should not be considered as an authority on Jewish Halakah (Law). Caution is required by the Christian use of the term Notzrim in modern Hebrew. Such a direction helps uncover early formative groups indentified in the historical Jesus pursuit some of which are properly analyzed by the following. NOT THIS (1) BUT THIS (2)

The Linage of Paul the Pharisee

Paul’s Arrival in Jerusalem and His Pharisaical Context
“When we arrived at Jerusalem, the brothers and sisters received us warmly. The next day Paul and the rest of us went to see James, and all the elders were present. Paul greeted them and reported in detail what God had done among the Gentiles through his ministry. When they heard this, they praised God. Then they said to Paul: ‘You see, brother, how many thousands of Jews have believed, and all of them are zealous for the law. They have been informed that you teach all the Jews who live among the Gentiles to turn away from Moses, telling them not to circumcise their children or live according to our customs. What shall we do? They will certainly hear that you have come, so do what we tell you. There are four men with us who have made a vow. Take these men, join in their purification rites and pay their expenses, so that they can have their heads shaved. Then everyone will know there is no truth in these reports about you, but that you yourself are living in obedience to the law. As for the Gentile believers, we have written to them our decision that they should abstain from food sacrificed to idols, from blood, from the meat of strangled animals, and from sexual immorality.’”
— Acts 21:17–25

Paul’s arrival in Jerusalem reflects the complex dynamics of early Christianity, particularly its relationship with Judaism. This passage presents Paul as a figure both deeply rooted in Jewish tradition and misunderstood as a subversive founder of a “new religion.” Despite this, Paul’s mission aligned with Pharisaical tradition, particularly the teachings of the school of Hillel and his mentor, Gamaliel. His impact on the Western Roman Empire, and possibly even Spain (as some traditions suggest), highlights his pivotal role in spreading the Gospel beyond Judea.

Paul’s Mission and Strategy
Rashi interprets the Apostles as “infecting their culture to sway the Notzri (Christian) faith away from Judaism into Messianic Noahidism; they themselves were not heretics and did so for the benefit of the Jewish people.” Paul’s acceptance within Judea, despite controversy, and his subsequent ministry in Rome demonstrate his unique role in God’s plan to reach the nations. Under house arrest, near where St. Paul’s Basilica now stands, Paul leveraged Roman infrastructure to disseminate his teachings, fulfilling his calling as a doulos (bond-servant) of Christ to the ends of the earth.

Jewish Perspectives on Paul and Early Christianity
Orthodox Jewish sources also shed light on the emergence of Christianity as The Way of the Messianic Hebrews. From the Chazal (Jewish sages) to Yochanan ben Zakkai’s Pharisaic academy at Yavneh, early Jewish thought engaged with the New Testament’s mission to the nations. Notably, Paul’s letters circulated widely and were affirmed as part of this salvation-oriented mission.

Paul’s writings focus on the exaltation of Jesus Christ as Sar HaPanim (“Prince of the Presence”). His cosmic Christology transcends Jesus’ earthly ministry, emphasizing His crucifixion and resurrection as central to apocalyptic and eschatological hope. Paul ties Jesus to the Passover lamb (1 Corinthians 5:7), aligning the Gentiles’ inclusion with Israel’s salvific narrative.

Christological Development and Pharisaical Thought
Jewish thinkers like Rabbi Akiva (c. 50–135 CE) and his student, Rabbi Simeon bar Yochai, played pivotal roles in shaping Christological thought. While Akiva initially supported Bar Kokhba as the Messiah, he later rejected him, affirming a more spiritual lineage tied to Sar HaPanim. Simeon bar Yochai’s teachings in the Zohar present Metatron as the perfect man and divine emanation, paralleling Paul’s description of Jesus as Lord our Righteousness (Jeremiah 23:5–6).

The Piyyutim of Eleazar ben Kalir (570–640 CE) further explored the preexistence and divinity of the Messiah, preserving these ideas into the Middle Ages. Such traditions illustrate how Pharisaical and later rabbinical thought engaged with the concept of the Messiah, including its overlap with Christian theology.

The Continuity of Pharisaical Thought
The narrative in Acts 21–26 underscores Paul’s alignment with Pharisaical thought, particularly its mission to bring the nations under God’s covenant. This continuity is evident in the spiritual genealogy (shellshelit) of rabbis and sages who saw Jesus’ mission as part of Judaism’s broader purpose:

• Rashi (1040–1105): Commented on the intersection of Jewish and Christian missions.

• The Tosafists (12th century): Including Rabbis Simhah ben Samuel of Vitry and Rabbeinu Tam.

• Nachmanides (1194–1270): Bridged Jewish and Gentile understanding of messianic themes.

• The Meiri (1249–1316): Acknowledged the ethical and theological contributions of Christianity.

Later thinkers, such as Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808–1888), emphasized Christianity’s role in spreading monotheism and biblical ethics to the nations. Hirsch recognized Christianity’s estrangement from Judaism as necessary to bring the message of the One God to a world steeped in idolatry and immorality. Similarly, Pinchas Lapide and Harvey Falk explored Jewish-Christian relations, highlighting Paul’s significance within the Pharisaical framework.

A Minority Tradition within Rabbinic Judaism?
While the majority of rabbinical Judaism opposed Christianity, minority voices throughout history acknowledged its role in the divine plan. Figures like Jacob Emden (1697–1776) and Isaac Lichtenstein (1824–1908) affirmed the ethical monotheism shared by Judaism and Christianity. Samson Raphael Hirsch noted that Christianity and Islam emerged from Judaism to combat idolatry, immorality, and spiritual degradation.

Conclusion
Paul’s mission, rooted in Pharisaical tradition, was not an attack on Judaism but its fulfillment for the nations. Acts 21–26 reflects the complexities of his role, both within Jewish thought and as a messenger to the Gentiles. The Pharisaical lineage of Paul continues to resonate through Jewish and Christian traditions, affirming Jesus as Yeshua Sar HaPanim, the culmination of God’s covenant with Israel and the nations.

👉 YouTube Playlist The Origins of the New Testament

Simon Cephas - St. Peter & Rome

Rome captivates the senses, with Matthew 16:13-20 gleaming in gold from Peru along the towering perimeter of the Vatican’s Basilica, beneath Michelangelo’s majestic dome and Pietà at the entrance. But have Evangelicals truly grasped the significance of this passage?

Many interpret Simon Cephas’ confession as the primary divide between Rome and Protestantism. However, this reading overlooks a crucial Hebrew perspective—specifically, the insertion of Petter (Petra), a pun frequently found in Talmudic discourse regarding Cephas as “the rock.” This imagery draws from the Maccabean-era absorption of Edom, Petra, and the Nabataeans—now embodied in the Herodians and Rome itself.

When Simon Peter, a redeemed lost sheep of Israel, stood at Caesarea Philippi, he was not confronting mere contextualization but full-blown syncretism, surrounded by pagan temples at the base of Mount Hermon—the highest peak in the Holy Land. This mountain, another “great rock,” plays a significant role in Jewish apocryphal traditions, particularly in the Books of Enoch, where it takes on a mystical life of its own.

God’s revelation has always addressed humanity’s struggle with sin and idolatry—from Abraham’s apostate origins in Ur of the Chaldees to the religious empires of Egypt, Babylon, and Persia. This extends to Esau’s brother-in-law, Nebaioth (Genesis 25, 28, 36), whose name means prophet and who is associated with the Petter Chamor—the firstborn of Abraham’s son, Ishmael. Too often cast as an “evil seed,” Ishmael’s lineage actually represents a missiological trajectory for redeeming the erev rav (the “mixed multitude”)—from which the term Arab derives.

The inheritance of Isaac, however, carries the divine oracles forward. In Galatians 4, Paul uses Hagar and the Heavenly Jerusalem to illustrate the ultimate destination of the seed of promise, emphasizing its availability to all people. This theme is reinforced in Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem—riding on a donkey.

Unlike in the West, where donkeys became symbols of stupidity, these creatures were prized in Jewish tradition for their intelligence and reliability as travel companions. In fact, the donkey is the only contaminated (tumah, not “unclean”) animal that is holy enough for Pidyon haBen (the redemption of the firstborn) as detailed in Exodus 13.

Thus, when Jesus spoke the Petter pun on Cephas, he was identifying Peter—once a hardened sinner (Luke 5:8)—as one made holy through exemption as a Petter (firstborn), set apart for the lost sheep of the edah (congregation). This transformation establishes Peter as one of the pillars of the New Testament church.

Yet, this does not negate Paul’s rebuke of Peter for his ethnocentric tendencies (Galatians 2). While Peter understood his role in bringing the Gospel to Cornelius (Acts 10), his withdrawal from table fellowship with Gentiles in Antioch suggests an ongoing struggle with Jewish Qahal (assembly) observance.

His actions—possibly an attempt to avoid “Judaizing”—illustrate the perpetual tension between Jewish discipleship (Talmidim) and the inclusion of Gentiles. This may also shed light on Peter’s reference to the “heavy yoke” in Acts 15. Such nuanced theological developments in the New Testament were later co-opted by Christendom in ways that obscure their original Jewish context.

The medieval Talmudic commentator Rashi (1100s) provides an intriguing insight, suggesting that the Apostles intentionally “influenced their culture” to steer the Notzri (Christian) faith away from Judaism, shaping it into a Messianic Noahide framework. Yet, Rashi maintains that they were not heretics but acted for the benefit of the Jewish people.

Further reinforcing this concept, the Hebrew word Petur—meaning “redeemed firstborn”—also carries the meaning of “exempt.” This description fits the role of a Petter Chamor, a Baal Teshuva (one who returns to faith) guiding pilgrim Messianic Noahides, such as Cornelius. In this sense, Simon bar Jonah carried forward the tradition of divine revelation to the nations.

Perhaps the most enduring testament to Simon Peter’s presence in Rome is not the Basilica that bears his name, but rather the Alexamenos Graffito on Palatine Hill—an ancient depiction of a man worshiping a crucified figure with a donkey’s head.

Scholars argue that this was meant to mock early Christians, likening their God to an Egyptian demiurge. However, the donkey—an unclean yet kosher animal—recalls the ways Jewish missiology functioned in the Tanakh and Septuagint, using allegorical animals as teaching devices.

Which leads to the final question: 

Why does the pattern of the cross 

appear etched upon the donkey’s back?

👉 Alexamenos Graffiti 

👉 Dumb Donkies: The Slander of Christendom

👉 Matt. 16 Word Study

👉 Petter Chamor YouTube Playlist

The most frequent commandment? SING unto the LORD, imagining forever!

He Giveth More Grace

The Olive Tree & The Christmas Tree

 

2025 is the 1700 Year Anniversary 

of the Council of Nicaea, 

where Santa Claus ‘decked’ a heretic and 

where ALL of Christianity finds Unity

Did the Council of Nicaea Finalize the ‘Parting of Ways’?
No, but it did initiate targeted persecution because its Christology was deemed “kosher”: God from God, Light from Light, of the same essence, substance, or being as the Father—a theological stance that took precedence. The prominence of Athanasius and Arius in Christian theology is undeniable, as seen in C.S. Lewis’s introduction to a reprint of On the Incarnation, which reflects an interpretation seemingly unaware of Constantine’s political maneuvering.

Does the Humanity of Christ Require a Human?
No, as evidenced by the term Theotokos (God-Bearer), which, though coined in the pre-Nicene era as doctrinally acceptable, later evolved into Mother of God, much like how “begotten” was adapted in creedal formulations. These shifts diverged from their original scriptural contexts, reshaping theological concepts through human interpretation rather than aligning with the literary and theological frameworks of Scripture itself.

If Jesus Christ Was a “Demigod-King,” Why Not Constantine?
Constantine’s self-perception was not far removed, yet his Arian faction failed to triumph at Nicaea in 325, as Homoousios (same essence) prevailed. However, his setback was temporary. Despite endorsing Nicene Christology in the short term, his broader theological-political-ecclesial agenda continued. Moving his capital to Constantinople in 330, commissioning 50 Bibles in 331, and then shifting his wrath toward the Holy Land in 333, Constantine imposed his will: constructing three basilicas and, reminiscent of Antiochus Epiphanes, compelling Christians to abandon synagogues and even consume pork at Pascha—on pain of death.

Nicaea and Vatican II: A Paralleling Hegemony
The Council of Nicaea foreshadows today’s Vatican II, particularly in its Jewish apology and the centrality of the “Mother Church.” Rome’s hegemony continues to shape Evangelical accommodation and doctrinal confusion. Consider this: two of Constantine’s original 50 Bibles have survived—Codex Vaticanus and Codex Sinaiticus, forming a nearly complete biblical text from 1,700 years ago.

Old and New Testament Divisions: A Faulty Paradigm
The categorization of “Old” and “New” Testament reflects Israel’s covenantal reception, but these titles impose a misleading framework. The New Covenant had already been foretold in Jeremiah, following the coercive covenant of Sinai. In this light, discipleship becomes the obedience of faith, whereas law, given under compulsion, was for spiritual “children.” Didn’t Jesus invite the little children to come to Him? Even the Syro-Phoenician woman’s proximity to Israel’s blessings serves as an example of pilgrimage, not coercion.

Was Chalcedonian Christology Purely Revelatory?
I argue it was not. Rather, it was a theological-political development. Consider the ancient churches—Armenian, Syrian, and Coptic—each retaining Mia/Monophysite Christology, as do the Anabaptists. Their theological vision, often linked to Adam Kadmon (the Second Adam), never resulted in militant expansionism post-conversion.

Their Christological formulations align more closely with Old Testament theophanies, where figures such as Sar HaPanim or Netaiot function as mediating angelic beings—one with the Father (Ein Sof Ohr, the unapproachable light). This presence, seen hovering over the waters in Genesis, walking in the cool of the day, and as the Root of David, suggests a continuity of divine manifestation.

The Significance of Luke 3:38
Luke’s genealogy concludes with “the Son of God”, highlighting Christ as the Redeemer of fallen humanity—tracing back to Adam and the Nephilim-influenced Cainite lineage (Genesis 4:6). This is not the mythological distortion found in the Enochian corpus, which confuses Metatron with the Two Powers in Heaven controversy. Instead, the victory of Jesus of Nazareth proves Him as the Christ—the very claim that caused the Sanhedrin to tear their garments in rage, condemning the innocent Lamb of God for us.

Evidence of the Oral Torah: The Psalms

Don’t stop at verse1 !!!! Psalm 67:2 (“That Your way may be known on earth, Your salvation among all nations.”) is the heartbeat of the Aaronic Blessing, ensuring that the shining of God’s face is not merely for Israel’s benefit but for the revelation of His way to all people.

This verse is crucial because it shifts the focus from personal blessing to global purpose—Israel was blessed to be a light to the nations. The oral tradition of the Aaronic Blessing (Numbers 6:24–26) was likely the first scripture memorized by the Israelites, passed down before the written Torah was fully compiled.

This affirms an early oral Torah, where the spoken word of blessing shaped Israel’s identity and mission. From the beginning, God’s revelation was not an esoteric or nationalistic privilege but a call to proclaim His way to the ends of the earth. Let it be known: the blessing was never meant to be hoarded but heralded.

Psalm 87 texts follows with nations (Babylon, Cush, Tyre et al ) that were blessed and brought into the revlation at Mt. Sinai and the eventual Temple with its Courts for the Gentiles. It is the standard Christianity narrative that missions was geographical in the “Old Testament” and where nations were to come and believe.

Such a verse throws important light on Deen (religion as a standard) and its aim, it is necessary that we should study it to understand it well. Lexically, the word sharaa in sharaa lakum (ordained for you) means to make the way.

In the Book of Numbers (part of the Pentatuch or Torah) the Aaronic Blessing stands foundational. The translation of Bnei (children) is predicated to Israelites. Iterations as ‘blessing and keeping’ are found throughout scripture, however, in Psalm 67 the closest expression shows how the Oral Torah functioned and this is all that really matters! 

In Psalm 87 another subtle clue emerges as the chiastic or parallelism of the text and within the genre known as wisdom literature keeps its symmetry. So do not let it stand alone: for The Lord Loves the Gates of Zions! Yet in Priority!

Yet something deeper and more pervasive continues as the content of Scripture deals with the ‘what and how’ of the Gospel, not necessarily its ‘announcement’ as ‘good news.’ Thus, the end of ungodliness by discipleship.

Here the Hebrew for ‘Gates’ harkens back to an even more foundational matter; following the ways of the Lord or even the ‘Derekch Haaretz’ (way or law of the land) or perhaps the Noahide foundation for all peoples.

Something The Quran and even Augustine of Hippo identified before the Standard Islamic Narrative began and Christianity’s supersessionism or replacement theology.

Surah 42:13 in the Islamic Quran states: He has ordained for you ‘believers’ (Sabians) the Way (Sharia Gates) which He decreed for Noah, and what We have revealed to you  O Prophet˺ and what We decreed for Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, commanding: “Uphold the faith, and make no divisions in it.” 

As a term it implies appointing a way, a code and a rule. Accordingly, in Arabic the words tashri and shariat and shari are understood as the synonyms of legislation and law and law giver respectively. Therefore, let us understand ‘Gates’ as etymologically linked to the ‘what and how’ of the Gospel as ‘the end of ungodliness.’

Esau I Have Hated: The Reason for the Bible.

‘Hated’ in Romans 9:13  Esau’s bad choices

The identification of the Church as a “Spiritual Israel” — elect while Esau stands rejected — whether in Reformed Covenant Theology or the New Perspective on Paul (E.P. Sanders, James D.G. Dunn, N.T. Wright et al), must be radically re-situated to avoid collapsing into supersessionism, that is, replacement theology.

This is a foundational issue, for both the Reformed tradition and the New Perspective on Paul are indeed onto something with their corrective impulse toward Fulfillment Theology—yet they display little sensitivity to authentic Jewish sources. Moreover, the conflation of modern political Zionism or “Israelism” with Judaism, as popularized through Scofield–Darby dispensationalism, should already serve as warning enough: nationalism and ethnocentrism are always incompatible with the believer’s higher calling to heavenly citizenship.

Granted, such futurism may seem plausible in light of current events. That is precisely why Christendom–Edom should compel us to reflect on Paul’s image of the Cultivated Olive Tree (Rom. 11:17–24). We are not to flaunt a new religion but to recognize and humbly accept our grafting into an existing covenantal reality—to become a missional people of peace and justice, rather than doctrinal warriors who interpret Romans 9–11 without the declarative action that Jesus Christ is Lord and without visibly displaying His character in the world.

The historical Esau–Edom rejection, often framed as “non-election” and extrapolated to entire ethnic or spiritual categories, is deeply flawed. It exposes the limits of theological systems that explain without understanding—the limits of reading the Bible through confining covenantsrather than the Abrahamic household, the family through whom all nations are to be blessed. Any framework that divides humanity into castes of election fails to comprehend the breadth of Abraham’s promise.

If we speak of a “spiritual Israel” and seek to avoid supersessionism, then Christians themselves must be seen as the redemption of unspiritual Esau or Edom, and by extension even of so-called Messianic Jews. Nevertheless, we are all Hebrews—members of the Commonwealth of Israel (Eph. 2:12–13)—called into the same covenantal family by grace.

Why Was Esau Hated?
Both Malachi and Romans echo the tension of divine election and human choice. In Jewish tradition, Torah—literally instruction—depicts an unchanging reality of truth. Esau was not cursed by divine caprice but by his own choices: taking Canaanite wives, disregarding the birthright, and ultimately “living by the sword.” Yet, even in his story there is grace. Genesis 28:6–9 records that Esau sought reconciliation by marrying into Ishmael’s line—one of Ishmael’s daughters—thus rejoining Abraham’s family.

Rabbinic tradition further records that Esau’s head, severed by Chushim ben Dan, “rolled into the lap of Isaac” (Gen. Rab. 78:12). This midrash is profound: though Esau’s body—his earthly dominion—remained outside, his head, the seat of consciousness, was received into his father’s bosom. Edom means red, and in that color we glimpse redemption. For Jesus Christ—the Redeemer in crimson (Isa. 63:1–3)—fulfills Isaac’s blessing to Esau: “By your sword you shall live… and you shall serve your brother.” In Him, the grapes of wrath become the wine of salvation; the blood of judgment becomes the blood that saves.

Edom’s Prophets and the Forgotten Family
If we posit only a “spiritual Israel,” what do we make of Obadiah, Job, Eliphaz, or even Caleb—all identified by tradition as Edomites descended from “unspiritual Esau”? Their witness complicates any linear narrative of rejection. These figures—and the Jewish Midrashim that preserve their memory—reveal the gaps in our comprehension of Abraham’s entire covenant family and our tendency to idolize Jacob at Esau’s expense. Perhaps this is why the Charedim, those pacifist Jews who reject political coercion, embody a more faithful Jacob—one who waits upon God’s justice rather than wielding the sword.

Paul’s Context in Romans 9–11
Paul’s discourse in Romans 9–11 must be read within this broader frame. “Jacob,” or its nationalized expression Israel, had become by Paul’s day a religio licita—a sanctioned religion within the Roman Empire—and had therefore absorbed imperial habits of exclusivity. Thus, Paul asks in Romans 10:19a, “Did Israel not understand?” Indeed, they did—but true understanding required Torah faithfulness, as modeled in Acts 15, where Esau–Edom symbolically represents the nations being welcomed in.
In Romans 10:19b, Paul cites Moses’ prophecy from Deuteronomy 32:21, reflecting on the ‘erav rav’—the mixed multitude that left Egypt. These included non-Israelites like Ephraim and Manasseh, faithful not by lineage but by obedience. “I will make you jealous by those who are not a nation; I will make you angry by a nation without understanding.” In Paul’s framing, Israel’s jealousy is provoked by outsiders—the very ones once considered “unspiritual,” whose devotion exposes Israel’s covenantal complacency.

This dynamic continues today. Simple believers in Christ—within both nationalistic Christianity and forms of Islam—often serve as unintended witnesses, provoking those bound to political or religious systems to reconsider God’s covenantal faithfulness. These are “replacement traditions” in structure, yet within them live individuals stirred by the Spirit toward the Messiah and toward mercy, even for Chiloni (secular) or Chardali (nationalist) Jews.

Torat Edom and the Red Judaism of Christ
Thus, Jesus Christ and the Christian Scriptures embody Torat Edom—a Red Judaism that opens the covenant to the nations. It is the way back for all lost sheep: the Romanized ethnic Jew of Paul’s day, the cultural-nationalist of our own, and the wandering Gentile. Acts 15 extrapolates Edom—and by extension Rome—to the nations. The revelation at Mount Sinai, where the mixed multitude (ha-gerim) was saved, already prefigured this missional grafting process that unfolds through the Hebrew Scriptures and culminates in the Maccabean and apostolic eras. These became the “Mishnaic” or binding books for all peoples within the Empire—and indeed, for the world.

Just as then, so now, the Gospel—the Good News—announces the end of ungodliness and the arrival of spiritual globalism centered not on race or land but on Jesus of Nazareth, our Savior. This is the true purpose of Scripture: the redemption of humanity, not the enthronement of nations.

The Peril of Political Zionism
Yet Israel desired a king (1 Sam. 8) and thus joined the Gentile pattern of political power. That choice left the covenant community vulnerable to nationalism—today embodied in political Zionism and the nation-state ideology claiming the “Holy Land.” This error, though geographically specific, echoes in other nations, including the United States, where faith is too easily wedded to flag.

Both Reformed covenantal and dispensational frameworks—though seemingly opposed—cannot deliver us from this double bind. As long as Esau remains excluded from their theological imagination, the Abrahamic covenant remains truncated. We must not allow the coercive bilateralism of the Mosaic covenant to dictate the grander narrative. The promise that “in you all nations will be blessed” transcends Sinai; it began in Abraham’s household—with both Jacob and Esau—and must be read through the lens of Torat Edom.

The Lord’s promises to Abraham are not bounded by geography or political allegiance. They are spiritual, irrevocable, and oriented toward the Heavenly Jerusalem. Justice in the Holy Land will not come through national alignments but through faithful witnesses—believers supported by the global ekklesia—who understand that Edom’s restoration is itself the Great Commission, including the redemption of today’s “ethnic” and “cultural” Jews.

You may ask: Isn’t this an overly spiritual reading?

But I would answer: Don’t we all long to be called children of God by His grace?

Read 1 John: God is love, and that love is revealed fully in Jesus of Nazareth—the greatest demonstration of covenant mercy the world has ever known

Further Further Study 
👉 Romans Chapter 2 Jew YouTube Playlist

👉 Esau’s Blessing (Genesis 27:39-40)

👉 Matt. 16 Word Study What is the Church?

[1] Torat Edom refers to a theological reading of the Abrahamic covenant that includes the destiny of Esau and his descendants—Edom—not as eternally rejected, but as part of the broader redemptive promise. While traditional readings emphasize Edom’s judgment (see Obadiah; Malachi 1:2–4), Torat Edom highlights that Esau was also a son of Isaac and grandson of Abraham, and that God’s promise to bless “all nations” (Genesis 12:3) must eventually reconcile the line of Edom as part of the covenantal plan. Paul’s midrashic treatment of Esau and Jacob in Romans 9 calls attention to God’s sovereign purposes, but also sets up the later mystery of mercy extended to all (Romans 11:32). Rather than allowing the bilateral and conditional Mosaic covenant to dominate the narrative, Torat Edom recovers a deeper view rooted in the patriarchal promises and their eschatological fulfillment in the heavenly Jerusalem (cf. Hebrews 12:22–24; Galatians 4:26). This reading challenges both supersessionism and political Zionism by calling the global Church to participate in a justice that transcends national borders and invites even Edom into the hope of redemption.

Suggested references:
Genesis 25:23; 27:39–40; 33:4–16
Obadiah 1; Malachi 1:2–4
Romans 9:10–13; 11:25–32
Hebrews 12:16–17, 22–24
Galatians 4:21–31