The Messiah in Jewish Thought [6] – The Birth Pangs

In our study on the Messiah in Jewish thought we are now reading from the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Sanhedrin, p. 98b. We begin with Rav's statement:

In other words, Rav — a great rabbi of the Amoraic generation — is stating his opinion of when the son of David will come.

"Son of David" and the Messiah

The concept of "son of David" is equivalent to the Messiah, because the Messiah has to be the son of David — the whole messianic expectation of Israel is based on God's promise to King David. So anybody who is not of the line of David certainly cannot be the Messiah. Also, in Talmudic times, the rabbis often did not speak of "the Messiah" but of "the son of David." They did this for both a polemical and a technical reason: they did not want to keep using the word "Messiah," which in the Byzantine period was bound up with the Christian concept of Christ in the Byzantine Church. So they often spoke of "the son of David" as the counterpart to the Christian concept of the Messiah.

Rav, dealing with the question of when the son of David will come, says he will not come until "the power enfolds Israel." This hints, according to Rashi's interpretation, at the Roman Empire taking over the whole world in which Israel is scattered — because by that time Israel was no longer an independent nation on its own land. Israel was already well scattered through the Byzantine Empire and into Europe by the fourth century, which is about when Rav was speaking — the late third and early fourth century — when Israel was in ruins, the Jewish people scattered, and the Byzantine Empire at its height, at the beginning of the Christian period. For this reason the name "son of David" is often used as a synonym for the Messiah.

So Rav says the Messiah will not come until the Roman Empire holds the whole diaspora, and rules over Israel for nine months. And he brings the verse from the book of Micah chapter 5 — verse 3 in the English, verse 2 in the Hebrew, because the Hebrew chapter begins, "O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are little among the clans of Judah…", a messianic prophecy. Let me read from verse 2:

Verse 2 is the Bethlehem-Ephrathah prophecy of the birth of the Messiah, used in the Gospel of Matthew — and in fact in all the Gospels — for the birth of Yeshua in Bethlehem. But the next verse is the one that speaks of time: "until the time when she who is in travail has brought forth." Somehow the ruler of Judah who comes from Bethlehem, and a birth after nine months of travail, are related to the redemption and salvation of Israel. And Rav says: the son of David will not come until after the nine months in which the power — here equivalent to Rome — has taken over all of Israel.

This is interesting, first of all, because it ties Rav's opinion of when the Messiah is to come directly to this messianic prophecy of the Messiah being born in Bethlehem, which is bound up with the whole story of the Messiah being of the tribe of Judah, of the family of David. And of course, in the New Testament, this is exactly how the Gospel begins — at least two of the Gospels begin with the birth story: Mary and Joseph, Bethlehemite of the family of King David, coming to Bethlehem to register and pay their taxes while they were living in Nazareth. They were Jews of Judea who had moved to Nazareth and came to Bethlehem to register in his birthplace, and so Yeshua was born in Bethlehem. Rav relates this story of Bethlehem, and of the woman who travails nine months to give birth, to the redemption of Israel — an interesting glimpse of how Rav looked at the coming of the son of David.

"Let Him Come, But Let Me Not See Him"

We continue to another rabbi of the same period, Ulla, who said:

This is a rather difficult statement. Ulla believes the Messiah should come, but does not want to be around when it happens. Why would a great rabbi not want to be here when the Messiah comes? Because he expects the prophecies of the Hebrew Scriptures about the coming of the Messiah to be fulfilled — specifically the prophecies of the travail, the suffering, that is supposed to accompany the coming of the Messiah. There are many prophecies that the Messiah will come in an age that does not deserve his coming — an age of hunger, war, and suffering, of disrespect toward God, toward the community, and toward the rabbis, and of poverty. And that is why Ulla says, "Let the Messiah come, but not while I am around; I do not want to experience these troubles that come just before the dawn of the new era."

Here we have three great rabbis: two agree they want the Messiah to come as soon as possible, but do not want to be around when it happens; and then R. Joseph says, "I don't care when he comes, as long as he comes. I am willing to sit under his donkey's saddle." There are two ways to read this in the Aramaic in which it is written: either "I am willing to be his donkey" — for him to put his saddle on me — or "I am willing to sit in his donkey's shadow," literally. Either way, R. Joseph's humility is impressive: he indicates that he is willing to pay the price of being a servant of the Messiah at his coming.

Why Rabbah Feared the Birth Pangs

The Talmud goes back to question the view of Ulla and Rabbah — "Let the Messiah come, but let me not see him." A later rabbi, Abaye, one of the heads of the yeshivas in Babylon, asks Rabbah:

Let me explain what happens here. Abaye, in a roundabout way, says to Rabbah: "What do you have to fear? Why are you afraid to see the coming of the Messiah with your own eyes?" He does it by way of R. Eleazar, whose disciples once asked him how one can escape the birth pangs of the Messiah — the period of suffering just before his coming. R. Eleazar answered: two things — study the Torah, and do charity. And then the point: "But Master" — meaning Rabbah — "you have both; you are a great scholar and you do much charity. So what do you have to fear?" And Rabbah answers: "I am afraid, because sin may cause me to suffer anyway. I may not have enough good works, or enough study of Torah, to deserve to skip these tribulations."

This is an important question in itself, and the New Testament deals with it too. All the sects in the Christian world argue and fight and divide the Church over the question of whether believers will have to go through the tribulation or will skip it — post-tribulation and pre-tribulation rapture, pre-millennialism and post-millennialism. All these things that Christians argue about were relevant to Jews as well, because they come from the same Scriptures; the Jews have to ask the same questions if they want to deal with the coming of the Messiah.

For Rabbah said that in order to escape the tribulation, a man must have both the study of Torah and, at the same time, good works and charity. But he himself lives under the fear: "Maybe I don't have enough; maybe I have some sin, and that sin means that all the good works, all the charity, all the study of Torah I have done, may not be enough to skip the period of tribulation." He is sure that on the Day of Judgment he will be found sinless; but he is not sure that what he has done is valuable enough for God to let him skip the tribulation. And that is why he said, "Let him come, but I don't want to see it myself."

Jacob's Fear and the Nullifying Power of Sin

The discussion goes on, and the Talmud says this is exactly what R. Jacob b. Idi proved by bringing two verses that seem to contradict each other. The first: "And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest" (Genesis 28 verse 15) — spoken after Jacob sees in his dream the ladder going up to heaven, with the angels of God ascending and descending on it, and God promises to guard him wherever he goes. And the second, also about Jacob: "And Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed" (Genesis 32 verse 8), when Jacob has left Laban with Rachel and Leah and their children and the flocks, is crossing the river Jabbok, and prepares to meet Esau. So if God had earlier promised him, "Behold, I am with you, and I will go with you wherever you go, in all places," why is Jacob now suddenly afraid, greatly distressed?

R. Jacob b. Idi brings these two verses into apparent contradiction, and the Talmud gives the answer as to why Jacob was afraid: he was afraid that sin might cause the nullification of God's promise.

So we have an answer to these differing attitudes toward the coming of the Messiah, brought by a third source, R. Jacob b. Idi, who learns it from two situations Jacob was in. The first is when God appears to him at Bethel, in Genesis 28, in the dream of the ladder. The second is on his return from Haran, when Laban has pursued him and he is on his way to meet Esau — from whom he had bought the birthright for lentil soup. In this preparation to meet Esau it says:

Jacob is strategizing, in chapter 32 verses 7 and 8, out of fear of what Esau will do to him on his return to the Land after twenty-one years in Haran, in northern Syria, working for Laban — fourteen years to marry his daughters, and seven more to gain something to live on. Now he is on his way back, and he is afraid of his brother Esau. Why? According to R. Jacob b. Idi, because he had sinned, and he feared that his sin would nullify the promise God had made him on his way up to Haran — "Behold, I will be with you; do not be afraid; I will be with you all the time, wherever you go." And of course God was with him wherever he went; but now, on his return, he is afraid of Esau — because, in his own view, he had sinned against Esau. The sin was that he had obtained the birthright for lentil soup, which by all opinions was not a fair trade, even if it was a legal one. So that is why, R. Jacob b. Idi says, Rabbah said, "Let him come, but let me not see him" — out of the fear that he might have some sin that would nullify God's promise to him.

The Second Crossing That Never Came

I continue the reading from where we left off. He was afraid that sin might cause the nullification of God's promise —

These two verses are drawn from the Song of the Sea, Exodus chapter 15 verse 16. After crossing the Red Sea with all of Israel, Moses, in great joy, brings this Song of the Sea — one of the greatest hymns in biblical and Jewish history — praising God for allowing the children of Israel to cross the sea, for the drowning of the enemy in the sea, and, toward its end, anticipating the eternal Temple, not made with human hands, in which the people will worship. And in verse 16 it says, "Till thy people cross over, O Lord, till thy people whom thou hast purchased cross over." From this the rabbis learn that there are two crossings — a first crossing and a second — but, the Talmud says, we did not make the second crossing, even though it was promised in the Song of Moses. Why has it not happened? Why did this redemption, this "purchase" (they are synonyms for the same concept), not come to be as it was promised? Because of our sin. The Israelites were as worthy of a miracle at the second crossing as at the first, "but that sin caused it not to happen." The full redemption of Israel has not really come, according to this Talmudic view, because of our sin.

Of course, according to the New Testament view, it has happened — in spite of our sins — because of the mercy and grace of God. According to the New Testament, Yeshua is the second Passover; he is the Passover Lamb, as in 1 Corinthians chapter 5. We are the unleavened bread, and he is the Passover Lamb, and becoming a believer is like a second coming out of Egypt — in a much stronger way than the physical exodus. In 1 Corinthians chapter 10, Paul says that all our forefathers were baptized in the crossing of the sea, and received spiritual food from the cloud that went with them by day and the fire by night. Whoever crossed the sea the first time did so in the physical sense; the second crossing is in the spiritual sense, which is the more powerful — because the second time is by what Yeshua did for us. It is the same concept, but in reverse: the rabbis say the second entry into the Promised Land did not happen, because of our sin; the New Testament says it did happen, through Yeshua HaMashiach — the second exodus, in which he took us out of darkness into light, out of a life bound by earthly flesh into a life directed by the Spirit of God. And all of this happened in spite of our sin. It was not stopped by our sin, but came in spite of it, by the mercy of God.

A Trouble You Cannot Outrun

I continue.

As you see, the rabbis return to the same motif in different generations. There are always people who say, "Yes, I want the Messiah to come, I believe he should come soon — but I don't want to be here when he comes." In fact, I have said it myself more than once. I don't really know the final interpretation of everything that will happen when the Messiah comes — whether it will be a wonderful thing, or whether many of my friends and other people who are not believers will have to die and suffer, and whether I myself will have to go through the tribulation. I don't know for sure. Either way, the same verses of the Hebrew Scriptures that people question and interpret differently are matched by the same questions in the New Testament. So this recurring question in different generations — "Do you want to be here when the Messiah comes?" — was already addressed by the prophet Amos, when he says:

Do not be so sure of yourself, so spiritually proud, that you say, "Well, let that Day come, I am ready for it — what do I care about everybody else?" If you have that attitude, you are already in sin, and you should not be so quick to want the Day of the Lord, the coming of the Messiah, to arrive.

And so, a generation later, the same question reappears with R. Johanan, and Resh Lakish says to him: "Why do you not want the Messiah to come in your time? Is it because of the verse in Amos — that a man flees from a lion and a bear meets him, or leans his hand on the wall and a serpent bites him?" Now Resh Lakish interprets how he sees this verse in relation to the coming of the Messiah:

(A "bailiff" here is a tax collector, or, in Rashi's rendering, an official surveyor who fixes the boundary lines between owners, and can thereby increase or reduce a man's property.) Resh Lakish is saying to R. Johanan that the tribulation of the coming of the Messiah is something you cannot run away from. It is an evil that comes after you no matter where you are — like the verse in Amos: you go into the field and meet a lion, you come into town and meet a bear, you go home and meet a serpent. You cannot escape the fate God has prepared, and therefore you cannot escape the tribulation that comes with the coming of the Messiah, whenever he comes.

(Gever means "a man," and also "a cock," a male chicken.) So the idea is that R. Johanan did not want to see the coming of the Messiah because of this travail — like that of a pregnant woman — the suffering, the birth pangs of the Messiah, that will come upon everyone; the word "man" here is generic, meaning all people. In their view, the righteous do not escape the tribulation; the righteous go through the tribulation first, and then the Messiah comes — this is R. Johanan's view, as Resh Lakish interprets it.

"How Shall I Destroy the One for the Other?"

The Talmud then asks: what is meant by "wherefore do I see every gever"?

They are dealing with Jeremiah 30:6, and the question is: what is meant by "every gever, every man"? The answer: "gever" is not only "man" but "strength" — every power, every strength, will be in travail. And then the second half of the verse: what is meant by "and all faces are turned into paleness"?

In other words, according to R. Johanan, the tribulation will come upon every gever — both Jews and Gentiles — and "all faces" means both Jews and Gentiles as well. And God cannot destroy his own handiwork, which is not only Israel but the Gentiles too.

This is an interesting saying. Rashi interprets it: the horse is put in to replace the fallen ox, but when the ox recovers, it is hard to remove the horse. So Israel, the ox, having fallen, was replaced in power by the Gentiles, the horse; but at Israel's recovery it will be difficult to remove the Gentiles from their position without much suffering. Remember the historical context: Israel is in exile, broken, while the Gentiles are high in power. The time will come when God will want to restore Israel to its original position, but it will be very difficult to remove the Gentiles. The role of the tribulation, in R. Papa's view, is basically the removal of Gentile power over Israel and the restoration of Israel to its place — a very difficult process, considering how long the Gentiles have been installed in power, and that no one, not even the horse, gives up its position easily to let the ox return.

Conclusion

And so this is the discussion of these concepts, verses, and views concerning the Talmudic teaching about the Messiah. The importance for us, of course, is to see how these things relate to the New Testament. Again we see that the Jewish rabbis dealt with the concept of the Messiah using the same materials, the same verses, and the same problems that the Christian world dealt with then and deals with today, and that the New Testament deals with. In both cases we are dealing with very Jewish material about the Messiah, handled in different settings, different schools of thought, different periods, and different circumstances. But what we know is the messianic prophecy — "O Bethlehem Ephrathah…" — and that the concept of the Messiah's coming is bound up with birth pangs. And it raises the question: do I want to be there at the time of his coming, and see the tribulation that will ensue, one way or another, when worldly power is overthrown and the power of God is established to rule over the world — which, in the opinion of most of these rabbis, does not happen without tribulation?