El Verdadero Templo



Una Exposición del Nuevo Testamento

Either we ascend to the Heavenly Jerusalem through covenantal faithfulness,

 or we descend into Gehenna by clinging to idols—whether land, race, or religion.


O ascendemos a la Jerusalén Celestial mediante la fidelidad al pacto,
o descendemos al Gehenna aferrándonos a ídolos
—ya sea la tierra, la raza o la religión.



Pero él hablaba del templo de su cuerpo.


1. Jesús como el Verdadero Templo
Juan 2:19–21 “Destruid este templo, y en tres días lo levantaré.”

Jesús se identifica a sí mismo como el verdadero Templo.

Su muerte y resurrección reemplazan el antiguo sistema: 

Él es el lugar de encuentro entre Dios y el hombre. Mateo 12:6

“Pues os digo que uno mayor que el templo está aquí.” Jesús es mayor que el Templo — cumpliendo su propósito.
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2. Los Creyentes como el Templo

1 Corintios 3:16–17 ”¿No sabéis que sois templo de Dios y que el Espíritu de Dios mora en vosotros?” “Si alguno destruye el templo de Dios, Dios lo destruirá a él; porque el templo de Dios, que sois vosotros, es santo.”

1 Corintios 6:19 ”¿O ignoráis que vuestro cuerpo es templo del Espíritu Santo, que está en vosotros, el cual tenéis de Dios?”

2 Corintios 6:16 “Porque vosotros sois el templo del Dios viviente, como Dios dijo: Habitaré y andaré entre ellos, y seré su Dios, y ellos serán mi pueblo.”

Efesios 2:19–22 “Así que ya no sois extranjeros ni advenedizos, sino conciudadanos de los santos y miembros de la familia de Dios, edificados sobre el fundamento de los apóstoles y profetas, siendo la principal piedra del ángulo Jesucristo mismo, en quien todo el edificio, bien coordinado, va creciendo para ser un templo santo en el Señor.”

“En quien vosotros también sois juntamente edificados para morada de Dios en el Espíritu.”

Puntos clave:
Nosotros, los creyentes, somos corporativamente el Templo de Dios.
Estamos unidos a Cristo, la piedra angular.
El Espíritu mora en nosotros, como antes habitaba en el templo físico.
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3. La Visión del Templo en Pedro
1 Pedro 2:4–5 “Acercándoos a él, piedra viva, desechada ciertamente por los hombres, mas para Dios escogida y preciosa, vosotros también, como piedras vivas, sed edificados como casa espiritual y sacerdocio santo, para ofrecer sacrificios espirituales aceptables a Dios por medio de Jesucristo.”

Apocalipsis 1:6 “Y nos hizo reyes y sacerdotes para Dios, su Padre.”

Puntos clave:
Somos piedras vivas que edifican una casa espiritual.
Somos sacerdotes que ofrecen sacrificios espirituales (no sacrificios de animales).
No se necesita reconstruir un templo físico — somos el templo espiritual.
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4. La Visión Final: No Hay Templo en la Nueva Jerusalém

Apocalipsis 21:22 “Y no vi en ella templo; porque el Señor Dios Todopoderoso y el Cordero son su templo.”

Puntos clave:
La meta final de la Biblia no es un templo de piedra reconstruido.
La presencia de Dios y del Cordero es el Templo.
La unión y presencia plena con Dios es la realidad final.
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Problema con la Reconstrucción Futurista del Templo
El Nuevo Testamento enseña cumplimiento, no un regreso a tipos y sombras (Hebreos 8–10).

Reconstruir un templo físico revierte la obra de Cristo.

Hebreos 9:11 dice que Cristo entró en el “tabernáculo más amplio y más perfecto, no hecho de manos.”

Edificar otro templo podría tentar a las personas a rechazar la obra finalizada del sacrificio de Jesús (Hebreos 6:6, Hebreos 10:29).

Por lo tanto, enfocarse en un templo físico futuro:
Distrae de la realidad de que ahora nosotros somos el templo.
Devalúa el sacrificio único y suficiente de Jesús.
Reintroduce una barrera entre Dios y el hombre que Jesús ya derribó (Mateo 27:51).
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Exhortación Final
Hermanos y hermanas,

¡Ustedes son el Templo!

Jesús cumplió los tipos y las sombras; ahora vivimos en la realidad.

Estamos llamados a ofrecer nuestras vidas como sacrificios vivos y santos (Romanos 12:1-2), porque la presencia de Dios habita en nosotros ahora.

“Mas vosotros sois linaje escogido, real sacerdocio, nación santa, pueblo adquirido por Dios, para que anunciéis las virtudes de aquel que os llamó de las tinieblas a su luz admirable.” (1 Pedro 2:9) 

Puntos clave:
Nosotros, los creyentes, somos corporativamente el Templo de Dios.
Estamos unidos a Cristo, la piedra angular.
El Espíritu mora en nosotros, como antes habitaba en el templo físico.

The Night Encounter - Sanhedrin, Sedition: Part 3 of 5



Jude’s Recovery of the Name
Under cover of night, when the impostor (often associated with Yeshu in the Talmudic Baraitas) and his small circle of followers had drunk wine mixed with a potion of forgetfulness, God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the mamzer, the false claimant to messianic authority.

Into this moment of divine orchestration, Jude—known in this tradition as Yehudah ben Zechariah—stepped forth. Sent as an agent of truth by the Sanhedrin and the king (Herod Agrippa II, convinced in part by Paul’s testimony but loyal to the Jewish covenant), Jude moved with deliberate precision.

While the mamzer slept, Jude entered the tent. He bore with him not the sword of bloodshed but the knife of covenantal surgery. Quietly, he cut into the flesh of the impostor, removing a hidden parchment or tattoo—the sacred Name (Shem HaMeforash), which the impostor had illicitly taken possession of.

This theft of the Name by the impostor had been the source of his false miracles, his seduction of the simple-minded, and his claim to divine status. Without it, he was powerless.

The impostor awoke in terror, sensing that something precious had been taken. In despair, he uttered a dark lament—an inversion of the Messiah’s cry from Psalm 22—declaring that his heavenly patron had forsaken him. But in this tradition, it was not a divine abandonment of a true son, but the just stripping away of a thief’s stolen authority.

Jude then withdrew secretly and reported to the elders. The people rejoiced in holy relief, realizing that the Name had been recovered and the breach against heaven repaired.

This event, so understated in the rabbinic retellings, carries immense covenantal meaning: The Name is not magic. The Name is a sacred trust. And it belongs not to self-appointed wonder-workers but to the true covenant people who hallow it by living in obedience and awe.



Why Must Christian Believers Pay Attention to These Jewish Texts?
As They are Often attached to Claims by Anti- Talmud Accusers



When many Christians first hear of the Talmud’s references to Jesus, they are often told only two things:

(1) That the Talmud “hates” Jesus, and

(2) That it “proves” how evil Judaism is.

Both statements are misleading — and dangerous. The real story is far more complex. And, ironically, by dismissing these traditions, believers have cut themselves off from some of the most important confirmations of the biblical record.

The baraita in Sanhedrin 43a, which records the trial and execution of “Yeshu” and his five disciples, should not be feared. It should be studied.

Sanhedrin 43a independently confirms that there was:
• A public trial
• A lengthy waiting period (40 days for evidence!)
• Charges involving sorcery and leading Israel astray
• Execution by stoning and then hanging (not crucifixion in Roman style)

This record shows a divided Jewish world — where early believers like Jude, James, and Peter were trying to preserve faithfulness to God while opposing distortions of it.
 Some Jews opposed him as a sorcerer.
Some Jews followed him as the Messiah.
Some Jews (like Jude) sought to expose impostors who misused Jesus’ name.

The Talmudic concern about the use of the Shem haMeforash (the Divine Name) shows that the real scandal wasn’t mere teaching or healing — it was the misuse of the sacred name which Jesus affiremd in the prayer he taught His disciples.

If early followers like Jude, James, and Peter worked to guard the faith — And if later followers (especially Gentiles) lost contact with this battle — Then Christianity’s early slide into Gnosticism and heresy makes sense.

The baraitot in Sanhedrin are not an “enemy testimony.” They are a witness from the family of faith — a family wrestling to stay faithful amidst seduction, betrayal, and confusion.

This early Jewish memory gives us four essential reasons to take it seriously:

1. Independent Jewish Confirmation of Key Events
It shows that this Yeshu’s death was perceived as a Torah issue, not merely a political one.

In other words: The rabbis confirm that Yeshu was judged as a false prophet according to Deuteronomy 13 — precisely the warning Jesus himself gave about false Messiahs that would come after Him.

2. A Clearer Picture of the Internal Jewish Struggle
Rather than being simply “the Jews killed Jesus,” the reality was perpetuated in various forms that show that this was NOT Jesus of Nazareth:

This matches exactly the New Testament world. Think Acts 5, Acts 21-23, and even Romans 9-11.

3. A Testimony to the Gravity of the “Name Theft”
This fits exactly why Jesus taught, “Hallowed be Thy Name” — it was not superstition, but the central pillar of covenant life.

Jude’s intervention — stealing back the misused Name — was a necessary purification.

The Talmud’s memory hints at this without fully spelling it out. This is the main point and thus it could never be something that could attributed to Jesus of the Gospels

4. A Frame for Understanding Christian Apostasy
By ignoring these Jewish memories, Christians forgot why fidelity to the God of Israel mattered.

Thus, the preservation of the Teliya tradition becomes part of the true “Trail of Blood” that keeps the original calling visible — against false spiritualization.

Rather than fear these texts, true Christian believers should study them, honor them, and learn from them. They confirm, rather than deny, the depth of the battle Jude fought—and that we must continue today.




Key theological reason why a Christian should believe this story:
Continuity with Scripture: Jude in his Epistle speaks of ancient rebellion against divine order—Cain, Balaam, Korah. The early infiltration and counterfeit narratives match precisely the dynamics he warned against.

Hallowed be Thy Name: Jesus’ own prayer emphasizes sanctifying God’s Name. The NT echoes the critical importance of the Name being pure, not manipulated.

A Jewish fight for faithfulness: Jude’s actions were not betrayal; they were faithfulness to the true Messiah and to Israel’s mission. He stands in continuity with Phinehas, with Elijah, with the prophets who refused to let covenant be perverted.

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Sources behind this narration:
- Sanhedrin 43a, 67a – Regarding the trial, conviction, and execution of Yeshu and his disciples. 
- Gittin 57a – Referring to the punishment and fate of the body. 
- Medieval “Toledot Yeshu” traditions – which expanded on the Baraita with vivid accounts of the Name’s theft and Jude’s retrieval.
- Sha’ar HaGilgulim (Isaac Luria) – alludes to burial locations and mystical consequences.



Herederos de un pacto roto: Van Til, Sproul y Schaeffer



El Pacto No Es Una Abstracción:  Cuarenta Años en el Desierto?


Han pasado casi cuarenta años desde que R.C. Sproul publicó La Santidad de Dios (1985).

Han pasado más de cuarenta años desde que Francis Schaeffer lanzó sus advertencias finales en El Gran Desastre Evangélico (1984).

Y han pasado casi de cuarenta años desde que Cornelius Van Til, el apologista del pacto dentro del mundo reformado, partió a la gloria (1987). 

Ha pasado una generación.
Cuarenta años: el lapso bíblico de prueba, olvido y memoria.
Cuarenta años: la medida del extravío y de la posibilidad de regreso al pacto.

¿Y qué hemos hecho con el legado que nos dejaron?
Sproul nos devolvió el asombro.
Schaeffer nos regaló lágrimas.
Van Til nos dio estructura.

Pero ninguno de ellos logró sanar plenamente la herida.

Hoy nos encontramos en un desierto que nosotros mismos hemos construido:
• El nacionalismo cristiano confunde el pacto con la conquista.
• La apologética se ha reducido al evidencialismo y al control.
• La teología se ha vuelto abstracción sin encuentro.

El olivo fue cultivado. Lo olvidamos.
El pacto era una herida. Lo sistematizamos.
La santidad de Dios era una llamada. La convertimos en una marca.
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Sproul: Predicador del Encuentro del Pacto
El genio de Sproul fue que predicó la santidad como un encuentro.

No como un concepto. No como un sistema. Sino como una colisión aterradora y hermosa entre el pecador y el Santo.

En su relato del terror de Lutero ante Dios, y del temblor de Isaías en el templo, Sproul dio voz a un verdadero confrontamiento pactal.

Lutero no temía a un atributo abstracto; temía la justicia fiel del Dios del pacto.
Isaías no temblaba ante un ser infinito; temblaba ante el Señor del pacto cuya gloria 

llena toda la tierra.
Sproul tocó el carbón encendido.
Hizo que otros también lo sintieran.

Pero su marco teológico —arraigado en las tradiciones escolásticas reformadas— a menudo lo arrastraba de nuevo hacia la abstracción tras haber provocado el temblor del alma.

La santidad seguía siendo, para muchos, más una otredad ontológica que una cercanía relacional.
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Van Til: El Pacto Defendido, Pero Frío
Cornelius Van Til, en otro frente, vio que todo conocimiento es pactal.
No existe terreno neutral entre Dios y el hombre.

Todo pensamiento es un acto de adoración o de rebelión contra el pacto.

La gran intuición de Van Til fue defender la realidad del pacto contra el ácido del modernismo.

Pero rara vez logró comunicarlo al corazón.

Su lenguaje fue técnico, combativo, y poco accesible para los fuera del ámbito académico.

Defendió el olivo, pero pocos probaron su fruto.

La teología pactal de Van Til quedó encerrada tras muros filosóficos.

Donde Sproul hizo temblar a las personas, ambos nos llevaron a argumentar.

Ambos vislumbraron un pacto truncado. 👉 ¿Qué hay de Esaú, Edom?

Ninguno sanó plenamente la herida.

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Schaeffer: El Profeta Que Lloró

Y entonces estaba Francis Schaeffer —quizá el más herido de todos.
Schaeffer vio lo que se avecinaba antes que la mayoría:

La caída de la verdad en el relativismo,
el ascenso del pragmatismo dentro de la iglesia,
la seducción del poder político,
y la pérdida de la fidelidad pactal.

Su llamado era simple y devastador:

“Debe haber un regreso, en la iglesia y en nuestras vidas, a una aceptación plena de la Biblia como la Palabra de Dios, sin error en todo lo que enseña…”

”…un regreso a la práctica de la verdad, a la santidad de Dios, a la realidad de la verdadera espiritualidad.”

Schaeffer entendió que la santidad no es solo trascendencia —es verdad practicada en amor.

Es presencia en el mundo sin ser del mundo.

Vio venir el cautiverio de la iglesia, no solo a la cultura, sino al poder.

Un cautiverio que reformularía la teología del pacto en plataformas políticas y batallas ideológicas.

Schaeffer lloró.
Pero pocos escucharon.
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Una Generación Perdida — y el Olivo Marchito
Cuarenta años después, las consecuencias son evidentes.
• El pacto se ha convertido en sistemas doctrinales.
• La santidad se ha transformado en consignas.
• La apologética ha sido reducida a argumentos evidenciales.
• La política ha reemplazado a la peregrinación.

Hemos vagado lejos del olivo cultivado.

Hemos convertido la fidelidad en facción.

Hemos intercambiado el asombro por estrategia.

El pacto nunca fue sobre poseer la verdad.
Siempre fue sobre ser poseídos por la Verdad — la Verdad que une, que sangra, que sostiene.
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La Herida Que Sana
El pacto no es un engranaje teológico.

Es el costado traspasado de Cristo.

Es el carbón ardiente que purifica los labios para proclamar la misericordia.

Es el injerto de las ramas silvestres en el olivo cultivado —por gracia, por temblor, por presencia fiel.

Judas, el hermano del Señor, nos recuerda:

Recuerden la fe entregada una vez y para siempre.

Recuerden que la santidad es amor pactal, no abstracción.

Recuerden que somos guardados, no por nuestra certeza, sino por Su misericordia vinculante.

Cuarenta años han pasado.
Pero la herida permanece.
Y a través de ella, aún fluye la sanidad —si regresamos.
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Bendición Final
Que no veneremos a un Dios que no conocemos.

Que no empuñemos un pacto que no hemos sufrido.

Que permanezcamos otra vez en la herida que une al Santo con los quebrantados, y por medio de la cual el mundo será sanado.
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Notas
R.C. Sproul, La Santidad de Dios (Wheaton: Tyndale House, 1985).

Francis Schaeffer, El Gran Desastre Evangélico (Westchester, IL: Crossway, 1984).

Cornelius Van Til falleció en 1987, tras décadas de trabajo apologético centrado en el pacto en Westminster Theological Seminary.

Cornelius Van Til, La Defensa de la Fe, 4.ª ed., ed. K. Scott Oliphint (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2008).

Francis Schaeffer, El Gran Desastre Evangélico, p. 320.


Gnosis or Netzarim? Part 2 of 5


Recovering Jude’s Jewish Fight for Faithfulness

“Beloved, although I was very eager to write to you about our common salvation, I found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints.” — Jude 1:3

This is not the gospel you’ve heard in Sunday School.This is not the gentle epistle of encouragement. This is war literature.

The Epistle of Jude, short and stormy, has long been marginalized in Christian preaching. It doesn’t fit the typical mold. It is filled with warnings, polemics, veiled allusions, and references to texts many no longer even consider biblical (1 Enoch, Assumption of Moses, midrashic tropes). But in its very strangeness lies its power—especially when seen through the eyes of Jesus’ own family.

According to Richard Bauckham, Jude “has long been neglected by interpreters because of its brevity and its apparently bizarre use of apocryphal traditions.” But Bauckham is also among those who insist that Jude is deeply rooted in the Jewish world of Second Temple eschatological hope. It is not merely a Christian letter using Jewish language—it is a Jewish letter defending a messianic movement from collapse.

A Brother with Fire in His Bones
Jude was not a neutral observer. He was not a Pauline spiritualizer. He was Jesus’ brother (Judas of James), one of the Netzarim—those “watchers of the Way” rooted in northern Israel. His letter emerges not from a post-Easter triumph but from a family under siege.

Richard Bauckham, in his pivotal Jude and the Relatives of Jesus, asserts that Jude was writing to a community under internal threat. While Bauckham resists identifying the opponents as proto-Gnostics, he does note their distortive grip on grace and licentiousness (v. 4), their denial of Jesus as Lord (v. 4), and their use of “dreams” to defile flesh, reject authority, and blaspheme the glorious ones (v. 8).

And here’s where it gets interesting.

Gnosis vs. Notzri: A Crisis of Names
Though Gnosticism as a formal movement developed later, its seeds were already sprouting in the 1st century. The Greek term gnōsis (knowledge) sounds strikingly similar to Notzri—the Hebrew designation for the followers of Yeshu HaNotzri and most likely a diminuative. This phonetic overlap—though perhaps coincidental in origin—has led to profound theological confusion. But what if it’s more than a linguistic accident? What if it represents a corruption of lineage?

Ironically, in modern Hebrew, the word Notzri—once denoting the Nazarene community rooted in Israel’s prophetic hope—now carries a tone of foreignness and estrangement. It reflects the very inversion this series seeks to correct: what was once a faithful branch (Netzer) is now treated as a severed offshoot. Just as Gnostic deviation obscured the original light, the name itself has become a witness to the distortion of lineage.

The Gnostic label, far from neutral, became a vessel through which early Church Fathers unconsciously (or consciously) distanced Jesus from his Jewish context. They mixed half-truths with deep departures—transforming the Messiah of Israel into a disembodied symbol of enlightenment. In doing so, they didn’t just blur doctrine—they assaulted the authoritative revelation of Judaism and severed the mission of Israel from its covenantal root.

Jude’s Epistle resists this—he sees through it. The infiltration he describes isn’t just moral laxity—it’s Gnostic before Gnosticism, anti-Notzri beneath the surface. And it’s precisely this distortion that Torat Edom aims to expose and correct.

Jude warns that certain people have “crept in unnoticed” (v. 4), twisting the grace of God into license. The same kind of infiltration that Paul laments in 2 Corinthians 11:4—“another Jesus,” “another gospel,” “another spirit.” Paul calls them “super-apostles.” 

Bauckham on Jude’s False Teachers
Jude calls them hidden reefs (spilades), shepherds feeding only themselves. Richard Bauckham (e.g. Jude and the Relatives of Jesus, WBC commentary, etc.) emphasizes that Jude’s opponents were not Gnostic pagans but itinerant, charismatic Jewish prophets gone astray.  They “claimed prophetic revelations” and were “evidently accepted as prophets in the church(es)” to which Jude writes. In other words, these false teachers styled themselves as spiritually enlightened super-apostles, but they used their “prophecies” to justify license.

Bauckham (and the WBC on Jude) notes their motto was “freedom,” but in a perverted sense.  These men exaggerated Christian liberty into antinomianism.  They “felt free to indulge in sexual immorality, drunkenness and sensual excesses” , claiming to be freeing people from fear of divine judgment.  They twisted Paul’s gospel (cf. Rom 6:1–15; Gal 5:13) into a license to sin.  In Jude’s language, they are those who “abandon themselves…for the sake of gain” – just as Balaam did.  They introduce defilement into the community for profit.

Crucially, Bauckham sees the Cain–Balaam–Korah triad as diagnosing the motives of these teachers.  Cain’s example warns of pride and envy: Jude’s false prophets are like Cain, fostering a spirit of dishonesty and hatred (cf. John 8:44).  Balaam’s story reflects greed: the heretics “ran greedily” after sin as Balaam ran after profit.  Korah’s example embodies conspiracy against God’s order: the false teachers’ attacks on gospel authority recall Korah’s sedition.  Thus Bauckham notes that by invoking these figures, Jude isn’t just condemning individual vices – he’s indicting the entire attitude of the heretics: their entitlement to flout God, their love of gain, and their rebellion against God’s appointed system .

In sum, Jude’s use of Cain, Balaam, and Korah forms a cohesive “trinity of rebellion” against God’s order. Cain’s despairing curse, Balaam’s deceitful counsel, and Korah’s open revolt illustrate the spectrum of defiance and impiety. Jewish tradition indeed saw Cain as hiding his guilt, Balaam as corrupt to the core, and Korah as the paradigmatic schismatic.  Jude holds up these ancient exemplars to show that his own age has not changed human sinfulness – the false teachers are the latest heirs of Cain, Balaam, and Korah.  As Bauckham observes, the apostle’s point is that if these historical rebels incurred irrevocable judgment, so will those who imitate them now.  In Jude’s stark view, there is no difference between sin then and sin now – it is the same vicious “way” that leads inevitably to doom.

They rely on dreams, Jude says, like the figure in the Toledot Yeshu tales who declared divine visions in the wilderness and seduced followers with signs. Jude’s rebuke isn’t to external heretics—it’s to those inside the community, rewriting Torah from within.

The Books of Enoch: As Device, Not Doctrine
Jude’s quoting of 1 Enoch (vv. 14–15) isn’t a canon claim. It’s rhetorical warfare. He invokes a popular text—respected among Jews of the time—to show that this threat had long been foreseen. “The Lord comes with myriads of His holy ones” isn’t meant to establish Enoch as Scripture, but to signal judgment on those who corrupted the faith. Like modern preachers quoting Tolkien or Lewis, Jude is invoking imagery that resonated.

Yet we must be careful. The Enochian corpus, especially its Watcher mythology, must not become a new mythology of fear. It’s a device, not a doctrine. We can affirm its resonance while still rejecting its cosmology which is behind so much of the prophecy & conspiracy theory industry. Jude uses it to indict the seducers, not to endorse their theology.

Why This Matters Now
Because we have sanitized Jude.

Because we have forgotten that early Jewish-Christian resistance was not theological quibbling—it was existential defense.

Because there is a counterfeit gospel still operating under the name of Christ.

And because Jude’s brief letter is a flare shot over the battlefield—an urgent call not to retreat but to contend.

Let us now turn to several baraitot—Talmudic teachings outside the Mishnah—that preserve a robust and often overlooked narrative. These sources offer vital insight into the world of the early Notzrim and the Jewish response to distortions that would later be canonized under the guise of “Patristics.” Where many Christian commentaries bypass the tension in favor of Church Fathers, these baraitas preserve the voice of a tradition still wrestling with truth, fidelity, and infiltration.



Jude Against 666 - Part 1 of 5




“Contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the holy ones…”
— Jude 1:3




The Forgotten Brother Speaks
The short epistle of Jude, often buried behind the longer letters of Paul or the thunderous visions of Revelation, is in fact one of the most urgent and subversive texts in the entire New Testament canon.

It is not addressed to Gentiles looking for grace, nor to philosophers seeking wisdom, but to a remnant—a remnant in danger of being infiltrated — a perennial threat in spiritual terms.

This epistle is not polite. It is not pastoral. It is apocalyptic, adversarial, and deeply Jewish.

And it may very well be the final warning from Jesus’ family itself before the full distortion of His mission took root.
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Jude’s Identity: Brother, Resister, Defender
Jude opens his letter humbly: “Jude, a servant of Jesus the Messiah, and brother of James.” He is also known as Yehuda HaHasid or Thaddeus-Jude the Issacharite.

He does not pull rank. But early Jewish-Christian memory (cf. Mark 6:3, Matthew 13:55 ) places him in the family line—Jude, brother of James the Just, son of Mary, cousin or brother of Jesus himself.

To read this letter as anything less than a familial intervention is to miss its urgency.

Jude is writing from within the house of Israel, within the house of David, and possibly within the literal house of Nazareth. He is writing to warn.
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Why Jude Matters Now
In the 50s Jude’s world was collapsing. A new movement was emerging—one that used the name of Jesus but was, in Jude’s words, “perverting the grace of God into licentiousness and denying our only Master and Lord” (Jude 4). These infiltrators were not pagans. They were insiders. They claimed revelation. They trafficked in esoteric knowledge. They were, as Jude says, “hidden reefs” (Jude 12), “clouds without water,” “wandering stars for whom the blackest darkness has been reserved forever” (Jude 13).

This is not just moral outrage. This is theological warfare.
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Enoch, Balaam, and the Apocalyptic Horizon
Jude makes two explosive references: one to Balaam, and one to Enoch. Both are essential for understanding the polemic.

Balaam: in Numbers 22–24, is the false prophet par excellence—a man hired to curse Israel, whose words were twisted into blessings, but whose legacy was seductive compromise. Jude accuses his enemies of “rushing headlong into the error of Balaam” (Jude 11). This is a direct accusation: the infiltrators are teaching covenantal compromise cloaked in revelation.

Enoch: Jude’s quotation from 1 Enoch (Jude 14–15) shocks many readers:

“Behold, the Lord comes with ten thousands of His holy ones…”

This is not Scripture in the canonical sense. And Jude never says it is. But he uses it as a popular frame, a literary device well-known in the 1st-century Jewish world, to illustrate the coming judgment on the wicked. Just as Paul quoted pagan poets in Athens, Jude quotes Enoch—not as divine authority, but as illustrative resonance.

We may affirm this use without endorsing the Watchers’ theology embedded in Enochic literature. Titus 1:14 warns not to give heed to “Jewish myths” (μύθοι Ἰουδαϊκοί)—a likely reference to pseudepigraphal and apocalyptic elaborations like those found in the Enochian corpus.
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Jude and the Teliya: A First-Century Response
Behind Jude’s fiery rhetoric may lie a deeper tradition—the early Jewish counter-narrative of the Teliya (תלייה), the “hanging” of the impostor Yeshu. Jude’s warnings about infiltrators, about those who “deny the Master,” about “ungodly men,” align not with Roman persecution narratives but with internal Jewish trauma.

In this frame, Jude is not just warning Gentile converts about Gnosticism or libertinism—he is exposing a movement that stole the Name (the Shem haMeforash), performed wonders through sorcery, and led the people into sedition against Torah and Temple.
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Closing: Trusting the Brothers Again
Jude’s epistle is a call not to abandon the gospel, but to rescue it—to return to the faith once delivered, not the version once co-opted.

The early family of Jesus—James, Jude, Simon, and their followers—did not capitulate to sorcery or empire. They contended. They fought. And Jude left us a record.

Jude is not what you expect.

He’s not the betrayer.
He’s not the legalist.
He’s not the fringe.

He is the brother.
The guardrail.

The last voice of fidelity before the break.
While others universalized the message, Jude localized the warning.

He didn’t preach rebellion—he exposed infiltration.
He didn’t abandon Torah—he defended its integrity.

Jude is the canary in the coal mine of apostolic memory.


A Pope who Preached it Better: Evangelical Zionists, and the Forgotten Judgment



Living in Italy and inundated with Italian media there’s not much I agreed with Pope Francis (1936-2025) on. Bergoglio often floated in doctrinal ambiguity, a product of his Jesuit formation. But when it came to that little piece of land with ‘hostages’, he did what nearly every evangelical leader—especially those tethered to donor pipelines and Holy Land beholden eschatologies—refused to do: he called it what it is. Yet playing all sides is part and parcel of his system.

Still He said the word: genocide — and called his churches in Gaza everyday since Oct. 7th 2023

Furthermore his doctrinal ambiguity was in a sense a clever ploy — allowing him to maintain unity among diverse factions, appeal to both traditionalists and progressives, and preserve plausible deniability. In that sense, it’s less about clarity and more about maneuverability.

Meanwhile, the Lausanne Movement—a historic banner for global evangelical unity—tiptoed around the crisis. A prayer statement here, a humanitarian concern there. But no prophetic cry.

No Matthew 25 urgency. Just silence—or worse, sanitized complicity.

And that’s the real scandal.

Jesus said He would judge the nations.

Not by doctrinal test scores.

Not by end-times charts.

But by how we treated the least of these.

The hungry. The naked. The displaced.

The bombed-out child.

The sheep didn’t recognize they were serving Jesus. They just loved the wounded. The goats? They had good theology, but they walked past the rubble.

So here we are.

When a pope dies who spoke out in more biblically way about the image of G-d in that part of the world than the evangelical industrial complex with its compromised connections, it’s time to reassess much. Maybe everything.

Maybe we’re the ones who need a new theology of our heavenly destination—one that matches the heart of the Shepherd-King, not the political maps of the land beholden prophetic industry’s dreams or our Western evangelical Edom status in regards to abstract revelation and mission.

Because on Judgment Day, Jesus won’t ask which side of the land dispute we were on or if our systematic theology was sound.

He’ll ask if we saw Him in the faces of the crushed.





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