A Christian Viewpoint

If you live anywhere in Canada and watch TV you know that Molson’s puts out beer commercials that have a strange twist to them. They are the “I Am Canadian” spots. Yesterday afternoon Linda and I went for a drive… yep, around the harbour… and as we crossed over the canal lift bridge we saw on the lake side what I thought a strange site that displays a bit of the Canadian heart.

There they were, three men in the water. Only five degrees air temperature. I can only guess at how cold the winter water was. The wind was a brisk 50-60kph. The waves were only two feet high… OK, maybe a few were two and half feet high. The waves were about eight feet apart. If you have been to the beach you know that the waves rise fast and crash fast. Three, perhaps four seconds, is the total life expectancy of each wave. What were those three men doing in the water?

Surfing the waves. They would paddle their boards out about seventy feet from the beach where the waves started to build. Then they would sit on their boards until they saw a good size wave begin to build (remember only two and half feet at its best) and begin to paddle with their hands. Quick powerful strokes. Oops, the wave passed them. They try again… and again… sigh!

If you would have waited long enough you saw the coming wave, the early paddle, quick responses and a quicker jump to their feet… and they are up and riding the wave curl as it begins to crest. Then five feet closer to the beach and the wave finishes crashing. They rode their boards for a good second… maybe a second and a half. That was it. Start to finish the whole thing was over in less than five frantic seconds.

California Dreaming? Doing the surf scene? Plenty of girls? Beach parties? No Way… They Are Canadian!

One day little Michael was on his way home from a Torah class… The little fellow really enjoyed the stories his rabbi would tell him. He would talk about the water of purification, the articles for temple service and the sacrifices. All woven together to teach and entertain the budding scholars. Then he came across Mrs. Bibi. She was a wonderful old lady who liked to dye her hair a blazing red. Not a gray hair to be seen. She always had a smile and a treat. Come in to my house Michael, I have a nice piece of apple pie I have been saving for you.

Well Michael never passed by a free desert. He knew his mother approved of these visits. So he runs into the house. Seated in a big overstuffed chair Michael dangled his feet over the edge. The smell of the pie filled his nostrils. When Bibi came out of the kitchen she had a small tray with the pie and a glass of milk on it.

This was second best part. He loved to eat Bibi’s treats but even more he loved to hear her tell of her days on the stage. She used to be one of the “Rockets” who kick stepped to the music. As was her habit she took out a cigarette and began smoking it. Yes, that is a bit unhealthy. As she talked about dancing and the people she met she would flick her ashes into the ashtray by her side.

The little boy became excited not only over the story but also about her ashtray. One pie and several cigarettes later the story was over. The little boy jumped up and asked her if he could empty the ashtray for her. She was surprised by the offer but allowed him to do it. Michael quickly jumped down from the chair, took the ashtray and went to the kitchen. He saw a brown paper bag on the counter and shouted to Bibi asking if he could have it. She called back that it was OK.

Michael then picked out the butts from the ashtray and threw them in the trash. Then carefully he poured the ashes into the small bag. He folded it over once and then once again. He placed the bag in his pocket. When he came out he gave her a thank you and a hug. Then out the door.

He didn’t go home. The boy ran back to the synagogue looking for the rabbi. Once he found him the boy said he had a very important prize. “What,” the rabbi asked. The boy said it was something for the temple services when it gets rebuilt. Confused the rabbi asked what it could be and the boy handed to him the bag. Opening the bag the rabbi saw some gray ashes at the bottom. He scratched his head. He looked down at Michael. Michael then said it was something the rabbi said was needed. The rabbi still confused thanked the little boy for this “gift.”

Later that evening Michael was in bed and he thanked God for the opportunity for finding this prized substance needed for the water of purification. As he closed his eyes he thought how easy it was to find…

The ashes of a red hoofer.

🙂

I started reading “the copper scroll” by Joel C Rosenberg. The last in his series I think. It is taking a little longer than usual to get through the book. I guess he has to mention the prophecies in each book in case people haven’t read the earlier books. By this time though it is beginning to sound more like an infomercial. You guessed it… tedious.

Now… that isn’t what I want to write about. It just niggled something in my mind. Last night at 3:00am it finally popped into my head. We all know that the third temple is going to be built. It is said that the antichrist is going to place the abomination that causes desolation in the holy of holies. Then at some point in the next few years Jesus returns to the earth to set up his kingdom. Everyone assumes that the temple will be the one written about in Ezekiel. I wonder if that is true.

What came to my mind is “does it have to be the temple?” Could it not be the tent of meeting instead. Could the treasure that the copper scroll is pointing to be the Tabernacle of Witness that Moses commissioned in the Sinai. If this is the case then the Jews could build it/erect it anywhere in Israel. Come to think of it, why didn’t the Jews set up the Tabernacle after the Temple was destroyed in 70ad? OK, that’s another question for another day.

Do you know of anyplace in scripture where the antichrist must erect the abomination in Ezekiel’s temple? I don’t recall anything off hand. Of course I could get a positive answer to that really quickly. I’ll let the Greek and Hebrew language scholars sift that one.

Hmmm… why didn’t the Jews build a tabernacle? OK, right, another day.