Facing “Lagging Indicators” From a Spiritual Perspective

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives.  It is the one that is most adaptable to change.”

 This past Wednesday morning I listened to this quote, attributed to Charles Darwin, as it was spoken by the CEO of the hospital system I work for.  It was used to summarize and conclude a presentation regarding the state of healthcare in the United States, the State of Ohio, and the present status of our healthcare system throughout the region.  As the applause ended and people began to exit the packed lecture hall an eerie silence and atmosphere of seriousness ensued.  Everyone was aware that we, perhaps more than any other entity run by this healthcare corporation, would have to take the wisdom of Darwin to heart.  In concluding the presentation, the CEO announced that “serious decisions” regarding the future of our facility would take place in the next two to three months.  In other words, it is likely that we will be closed by the fall, causing all of us to face an unexpected and sudden change.  

 Coming home that evening and reflecting on the CEO’s presentation, the phrase “lagging indicator” remained in my mind.  Although the system I work for experienced the most lucrative year on record in 2009, by April 2010 drastic changes had occurred as hospitalizations and elective medical procedures nationwide dropped by 4-5%.  Suddenly, the seemingly invincible healthcare sector is now experiencing this lagging indicator of the recession, combined with uncertainties regarding the effects of National Healthcare Reform.  Hiring freezes are in place, pay-raises are on hold, and the least profitable facilities, including the one in which I work, will be phased out before year’s end. 

 The phenomenon of a “lagging indicator”—despite being the jargon of economists used to describe an economic indicator that changes after the overall economy has changed– seems to find a spiritual connection in parashah Shelach.  Here the overwhelming focus is the sin of the spies (meraglim) in scouting out the Land and bringing back a bad report and the immediate change that resulted of forty years of wilderness wandering.  But contained in this parashah is also a lagging indicator of this situation, a change after the fact, that is easily and often overlooked, as found in the mitzvot of menachot and nesachim; the grain offerings and wine libations commanded in Numbers 15:1-16.

 Sforno (Bemidbar 14:3-4) points out that grain offerings and wine libations were unknown before the giving of Torah on Sinai.  Abel, Noah, and Abraham offered burnt sacrifices to HaShem as a “sweet savor” without the additions of grain or wine.  After the sin of the golden calf such offerings were commanded to be presented along with the daily burnt offering representing the nation as a whole.  After the sin of the spies grain and wine offerings were commanded as necessary components of the elevation offering and peace offering brought by individuals. 

 Sforno suggests that this implies a weakening of spiritual standards, first for the nation, then for the individual.  No longer could a burnt offering alone present a pleasing sacrifice to HaShem as it had for Abraham and other righteous individuals of the past.  Instead, additional elements were required to make the sacrifice complete and valid.  In this way, the menachot and nesachim could be viewed as lagging indicators; or changes that occurred in the way Israel presented national and individual offerings to HaShem after the profound and immediate changes of two great national sins had taken effect.  In Sforno’s view the menachot and nesachim were negative changes that would forever require Israel to offer the lower form of vegetable life (grain and wine) along with the higher form of animal life due to past sins and weakening of spiritual standards. [1]

The Shem MiShmuel, in considering Sforno’s view, also sees the grain and wine offerings as lagging indicators, but in a positive sense.  When an animal is offered, its life source, or soul, provides atonement for the soul or “life” of its owner.  The animal represents the most basic definition of an offering or korban meant to draw one closer to HaShem spiritually.  The unique spirit of man, created in the image of G-d, desires to draw closer to Him.  As Shem MiShmuel explains, the difficulty in drawing closer spiritually is the “dragging along” of the reluctant body or “the flesh” which opposes what the human spirit desires to achieve.  In bringing animal sacrifice alone, righteous individuals, prior to the giving of Torah on Sinai, did what they could to draw closer to G-d spiritually, and this was a sweet savor to Him. [2]

Only after Matan Torah, was Israel given the ability to draw close to HaShem in both spirit and body through the practical/physical mitzvot and the service of the Tabernacle.  The body drawing close to G-d is represented by the lower vegetable life of grain and wine which is connected to the ground from which the body was formed. When “the flesh” of the nation rebelled in the most profound situations of the golden calf and sin of the spies, grain and wine were commanded to be presented along with the burnt offerings to symbolize a drawing close to HaShem in both body and spirit, for the nation as a whole as well as for the individual.  [3]

Remarkably, the lagging indicator of grain and wine finds another representation in the sacrifice of Messiah, through whom the consequence of death due to human rebellion and sin was reconciled and overcome by his resurrection from the dead.  As we partake of the elements of bread and wine we proclaim the ability to draw close to HaShem in body and spirit in an eternal and perfect sense, through a resurrected existence, because of Yeshua’s sacrifice.  Yet, ironically, just as the Sages have differing views of the menachot and nesachim, so believers throughout the centuries have also held differing views regarding the bread and wine of the Communion meal.  The meaning and symbolism of the Supper as well as the frequency and timeframe of participating in it presents various shades of understanding based on one’s denominational persuasion.  But for the Messianic believer the focus is upon the original form.  How did the early believers celebrate the Supper?  Typically the Seder meal is understood to represent most profoundly Yeshua as our Passover, but yet Paul’s instructions in 1 Corinthians 11 seem to indicate additional  times of meeting together when the Supper was partaken of. 

In reading an online version of Risto Santala’s Paul, the Man and the Teacher in Light of Jewish Sources, I came across an interesting conjecture regarding the Supper as celebrated by the first century believers in the form of a Melaveh Malkah – a meal partaken of after havdalah on Shabbat in which the “Queen” (Sabbath) is escorted out solemnly as the regular week begins. Santala bases his conjecture on the account of Acts 20:9-11 where Paul is described as teaching an assembly of believers late into the night while in Troas.  After young Eutychus falls asleep and survives a three story plummet from his window seat,  a “breaking of bread” is described indicating a meal being partaken of at a curiously late hour after midnight.   

Although Melaveh Malkah, and the messianic themes associated with it, gained prominence in the later writings of the Zohar, Santala shows that the origins of a post-Sabbath meal can be traced to the early Sages (Tannaim) of the Talmud, making it contemporary with first century Jewish thought and practice.  Santala also sees liturgical parallels between the post-havdalah meal of Shabbat and Paul’s teachings regarding the Supper in 1 Corinthians 10 & 11.  Specifically, Paul’s warning of condemnation for those who do not carefully distinguish the elements when participating in the Supper is compared to the admonitions of Chazal who present similar themes regarding the final meal and conclusion of Shabbat. Santala also relates an ancient Syrian and Near-Eastern church custom of celebrating the Eucharist at the “second hour on Saturday evening”, a tradition understood to have originated in the Apostolic Age.

A Saturday evening, post-Sabbath setting for Acts 20:9-11, although debatable, is upheld by several Messianic commentators including David Stern and Daniel Lancaster.  Stern, in his Jewish New Testament Commentary, assumes the late night meeting at Troas to have occurred after Shabbat being that Jewish believers, who would have been accustomed to prolonging the Sabbath, constituted the core of the congregation.  He also points out the practical difficulties of the Ephesus congregation to assemble again on Sunday, one day after the Sabbath and on a “work night” so to speak, in order to meet with Paul and consider his teachings throughout the evening and into the dawn hours.  [4]

Lancaster finds the description of “many lights” in the upper chamber of the house (Acts 20:8) to allude to a post-havdalah meeting.  In the first century the relighting of lamps after the Sabbath would have required re-stoking of coals in the hearth of the home in order to produce a flame from which lamps could be lighted. Therefore it might be assumed that when the believers met together in a designated home for havdalah they would bring individual lamps with them to be re-lighted from the stoked coals in the meeting place.  The lamps would then be carried back to their own houses after the late night assembly concluded.  In this way, many lamps would be present in the meeting place, lit from the same fire source, after the Sabbath had ended. [5]

Although it is just another conjecture, Santala’s thoughts present a very appealing and fitting setting regarding the early believers’ adaptation to change in the form of the Communion meal.  Such an adaptation would have provided weekly opportunity to proclaim the Messiah’s death and coming again, in a traditional Jewish context, in which the Mashi’ach and his kingdom were in view.

. . . . . . . .

After the initial silence and shock of the announcement from the CEO on Wednesday morning, the remainder of the work day showed great evidence of people trying to “adapt” to such an unexpected change.  Various groups gathered in impromptu fashion throughout the afternoon to talk, complain, conjecture, and cry in a general atmosphere of anger and disbelief. Personally, I began the adaptation process by avoiding these groups.  Instead I sat down at the computer, signed into the career center and submitted my resume for several clinical nurse positions at a new regional hospital in our system, scheduled to open in August.  Less than 24 hours later I received a call from the human resources department to set up an interview next week for one of the job positions I had applied for.

Although I don’t prefer to start a new job at a new hospital 24 miles away from my home (instead of 2.5 miles away), in a position that will require me to defend my Sabbath observance and explain its importance to management and co-workers (a process that had been comfortably reconciled at my present position) – I must admit – that the idea of change has invigorated me in some ways.  Hearing the CEO speak of the changes in healthcare prompted me also to set up a meeting with a graduate advisor at a local university to seek out options regarding pursuing a Master’s degree – a  dream I had allowed to lapse for several years because my present job was “comfortably perfect”.  

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[1]  Sforno as cited in Shem MiShmuel, Selections on the Weekly Parashah and Festivals, rendered into English by Rabbi Zvi Belovski, Targum Press Inc., Southfield, MI, 1998, pp. 327-328.

[2] Shem MiShmuel, ibid.

[3] ibid.

[4] David H. Stern, Jewish New Testament Commentary, Jewish New Testament Publications, Clarksville, MD, 1996, p. 298.

[5] D.T. Lancaster, Torah Club Volume 4, B’Sorat HaMashiach, First Fruits of Zion, Littleton CO, 2002, p. 1086.