There is a recurring problem that has begun to overshadow the reception of The Exhortations: it is being read as something it was never intended to be. Some people embrace it as though it were claiming authority, historical accuracy, or even canonical status; critics dismiss it on precisely those same grounds. The responses of both groups arise from the same misunderstanding.
The Exhortations was never written to stand alongside the Miqra, nor to replace it, supplement it, or compete with it. It is not a holy book. It is not binding. It does not exist to be obeyed. It is not authoritative. It does not demand agreement, nor does it claim perfection or infallibility. If one were to reject it entirely, nothing within the Talmidi faith would be lost. That is because its true purpose lies elsewhere.
It was written as a work of spiritual reflection, and as an instrument of teaching.
More specifically, it is a collection of writings intended to express and cultivate a distinctly Talmidi spirituality and identity—one grounded in the ethical teachings of Yeshua as a Jewish prophet, and in continuity with the moral and theological vision of the Miqra. Its aim is not to legislate belief, but to encourage orientation: toward compassion, love, humility, justice, and attentiveness to the living Presence of God in everyday life. Its hope is to keep us focused on the ideals of God’s Kingdom, and on everything that truly matters in the Talmidi faith. It presents a Talmidi point of view; it was never intended to prove it, there’s a difference.
In this sense, The Exhortations belongs to a long and familiar category within Jewish tradition: that of midrashic and devotional religious literature. Some of the books within it belong to the genre of Israelite Wisdom literature. It speaks in the language of parable, reflection, poetic expansion, and moral imagination. It seeks to illuminate truth—not by recording events, but by drawing out their meaning and ongoing relevance. Confusion arises when these genres are mistaken for something else—it never claims to be an accurate record of history. That’s not even how the ancients understood religious writings.
A parable is not a historical claim. A reflection is not an assertion of fact. A poetic meditation is not an attempt to deceive. An event is told, not for people to believe it happened, but rather for its value as a reflective lesson on our identity as Talmidis.
And yet, some readers approach the text as though every passage must either describe something that really happened, or else be rejected outright. This is a categorisation error. It is akin to rejecting all wisdom literature, simply because it is not a chronicle of historical events; or dismissing a vivid parable, because it does not describe actual events that occurred in time and space. Such an approach closes off the very mode through which the text intends to speak.
The concern that some have expressed—that certain ethical statements in The Exhortations do not appear in ancient sources—reveals a further misunderstanding. It assumes that truth can only be validated by prior textual existence in the ancient past. But this is neither historically nor theologically sustainable. Ancient literature contains much that is flawed, and omits much that is good. The absence of a statement in surviving texts does not render it false; nor does its presence automatically sanctify it. What matters is whether it accords with the ethical and theological trajectory of the Miqra and the teachings of Yeshua.
The Exhortations was written with precisely that aim: to articulate, in fresh language, truths that are consistent with that trajectory, even where they are not verbatim repetitions of ancient formulations. Changes to existing text are deliberate, and are meant to say something important to the reader, in and of themselves.
The Exhortations is a collection of 14 very different books. Some people have read just the first few pages, and then dismissed the other 500 pages, thinking that the whole collection is the same – it’s not. It contains some very beautiful prayers, psalms, parables, sayings, wisdom teachings, consoling and comforting advice, sermons and commentaries, a fresh and alternative take on religious history, and much more. It is a treasury – an entire library almost – of Talmidi spirituality, and judging the entire volume of 500 pages only by the first couple of pages does not do it justice. You can dive in at any point in the volume and gain something new and positive from it each time – it doesn’t have to be read all in one go.
The book also arose from a specific need. Within the inherited New Testament corpus, the voice and message of the human prophet Yeshua are often obscured by later theological developments—particularly those associated with Paul—which stand in painful tension with the Torah-rooted, Jewish context of Yeshua’s own teaching. The Exhortations does not attempt to reconstruct history in a critical academic sense; rather, it seeks to expound a spiritual posture: the mindset and worldview of early Followers, who understood a very human Yeshua within the framework of Israel’s covenantal life and ethical calling. It is therefore an interpretation of history, which seeks to recover the alternative worldview of a religious community that was lost to history.
That recovery is necessarily interpretive. It cannot be otherwise. But interpretation is not deception. It is an attempt to speak faithfully within a tradition, not to fabricate a past. When reading anything new in the book, the intent is that the reader take it at face value, exactly for what it is, not because it may or may not have been said by someone important in the past.
At its heart, the book is pastoral. For those isolated from the Talmidi community, it is a companion and a friend. It is meant to be read in moments of reflection, uncertainty, or need. Its prayers are meant to be prayed. Its sayings are meant to be pondered. Its parables are meant to unsettle complacency and awaken new insight. Its wisdom is meant to console and comfort. It is, in the simplest terms, a companion text—something that helps the reader remain grounded in what matters, rather than being drawn into distractions or distortions (such as whether something happened or not, or whether something was said or not).
There is a poignant parable in The Exhortations which I think is particular pertinent to this problem:
“It is a like a house in a dark corner of the city,
A dwelling that even the poor pass by.
And in it is a window,
A hole of little account.
And a man looks through it,
To see what he shall see.
And he,
seeking nothing but a dusty hovel where he can lay his head –
even if only the dankness of a small dwelling –
Will see instead a great valley,
And a city full of warmth and light;
And around it a great garden,
A stunning vision of paradise;
It is a place where none are afraid,
Where Wisdom and good counsel dwell throughout.
Here the angels sing,
And the children of God give praise,
Happy and fully sated.
But the man in disbelief turns away,
Back to the dim light of the day,
To the incessant rain,
And the day’s misty pallor,
His hopes unfulfilled.”
(The Exhortations, Book of Modern Writings, passage 4:20, verses 2-7)
This short parable of the man at the window captures the problem well. The man looks, but does not see—not because there is nothing to see, but because he has already decided what he expects to find. When the vision does not conform to that expectation, he turns away, preferring the familiar dimness to an unfamiliar light.
So it is with The Exhortations. If it is approached as a rival to scripture, it will be rejected. If it is approached as if it were reconstructing a historical document, it will be misunderstood. But if it is approached for what it is—a work of spiritual reflection and humble devotion within a Talmidi framework—it can be received on its own terms.
No one is required to accept it. No one is obligated to read it. But those who do should do so with clarity about its purpose.
It does not claim authority. It offers insight.
It does not impose belief. It invites reflection.
It does not replace the Miqra. It points back to it.
If it succeeds, it will not create dependency on itself, but rather deepen attentiveness to God, to neighbour, and to the ethical path set before us.
That is all it was ever meant to do.