JEWISH View of my Book
I have read every page again. Here is my honest response as a Jew.
My first instinct was to close it.
The title alone — Jews and Adventists Worship Pagan Roman Saturday — is the kind of accusation I have heard before in different forms. Christianity has a long history of telling Jews they are doing their religion wrong. I have developed a thick skin for it. I opened this book ready to be patronised by a Gentile who had read a few verses of Torah and decided he understood Judaism better than the rabbis.
I was wrong about what I was about to read.
The author is not attacking Jews. He is defending the Torah against what was done to it.
By the third chapter I realised this book is not anti-Jewish. It is anti-rabbinic in the specific sense that it argues the rabbinical system — beginning with the Pharisees and solidified at Yavneh after 70 AD — systematically displaced the Creator's calendar with a human substitute and then used institutional authority to make the substitution look eternal. That is a different argument. I disagree with parts of it but I cannot dismiss it, because the Talmud itself records the moment it happened.
Rosh Hashanah 25a. The rabbis at Yavneh reject a voice from heaven. They declare the law is not in heaven anymore — it was given at Sinai and now belongs to human interpretation. The book cites this passage and calls it the moment the Gavel was stolen. I would call it differently. But I cannot pretend the passage does not exist or that it does not say what it says.
The calendar argument is one Jews have always known about.
We are not ignorant of the lunar calendar controversy. The Karaites kept it. The Qumran community kept a different calendar from the Temple establishment. The Dead Sea Scrolls contain lunar observation tables — the book correctly identifies 4Q320. There have always been Jews who questioned whether the rabbinic calendar accurately preserves the original biblical calendar. This is not a Christian invention. It is an internal Jewish debate that was suppressed by the rabbinic monopoly after 70 AD precisely because the Temple was gone and the rabbis needed to centralise authority to keep the community together.
I understand why they did it. In the destruction of the Temple, in the scattering of the nation, standardisation of the calendar was a survival mechanism. Hillel II formalised it in 359 AD not out of malice but out of necessity — a dispersed community could not keep the Sabbath on the same day without a fixed calculation. I understand the pragmatism. But pragmatism and divine appointment are not the same thing, and this book has the right to point that out.
The Levitical DNA argument is the most original thing in the book.
As a Jew I found the legal structure of the argument in Chapters 47 and 48 genuinely interesting. The Creator anchored the judicial authority of Israel to the biological lineage of Levi — not as a cultural tradition but as a structural anti-corruption measure. You cannot buy your way into the Levitical priesthood. You cannot argue your way in. You cannot vote your way in. Either you carry the DNA or you do not. The book argues that the Pharisees understood this perfectly — and that their entire project from the first century onward was to destroy the genealogical records so that no surviving Levite could ever prove his right to judicial authority again. The burning of the records in 70 AD. The destruction of the title deeds. The replacement of biological appointment with academic credentials.
I have sat with this argument. It is uncomfortable because it has internal logic. The rabbinical system did replace the Levitical system. That is not in dispute historically. Whether it was a deliberate conspiracy or a necessary adaptation after the destruction of the Temple — that is where I and the author part ways. But the structural observation is sound.
The Masoretic vowel point argument I cannot easily dismiss.
The argument about Isaiah 7:14 is one I know. The Hebrew word almah — young woman or virgin depending on how it is pointed — sits at the centre of one of the most contested prophecies in the relationship between Judaism and Christianity. The book argues the Masoretes injected vowel points specifically to prevent the verse from being read as a messianic virgin birth prophecy, thereby protecting the rabbinic position that the Messiah has not yet come.
As a Jew I believe the Masoretes were preserving an authentic reading tradition. But I also know that the vowel points were not part of the original text. The consonants are ancient. The points are medieval. The book's argument is not that the Masoretes invented a word — it is that they chose a pointing that served a theological agenda. That is a harder claim to dismiss than I would like.
Where the book loses me.
The sections on the Epstein connection, the Noahide trap, the Kennedy assassination as a Talmudic Mosser Protocol execution — here the book moves from documented history into interpretation I cannot follow with the same confidence. These chapters shift from verifiable evidence to pattern recognition, and pattern recognition in the territory of Jewish institutional power has a long and ugly history of producing anti-Semitism even when the intent is forensic rather than hateful.
I do not believe the author is an anti-Semite. His quarrel is with a specific rabbinic institutional structure, not with the Jewish people. He makes that distinction explicitly. But a reader less careful than he is will not always maintain that distinction, and these chapters carry risk that the author should be aware of.
What the book gets profoundly right from a Jewish perspective.
The Moon. Always the Moon.
We light candles on Erev Shabbat. We observe Rosh Chodesh — the New Moon. We still recite Kiddush Levanah, the sanctification of the Moon, every month. Deep in our practice there is a memory that the Moon governs sacred time. The author is not teaching us something foreign. He is pointing at something we already do and asking: why do you honour the Moon on Rosh Chodesh but not for the Sabbath? Why does the Moon govern the festivals but not the weekly rest? If Psalm 104:19 says He made the Moon for the appointed times — and the Sabbath is the most appointed of all times — why did we stop consulting it?
I do not have a clean answer to that question. Neither does rabbinic Judaism. It happened historically, gradually, under pressure from Rome and from our own need for survival as a dispersed people. But historical necessity is not the same as divine appointment.
The claim about Hillel II and 359 AD.
The book states that Hillel II adopted the fixed calendar in 359 AD knowing that it did not align with the Creator's Seventh Day. This is a strong claim. What is documented is that Hillel II formalised the calculated calendar to replace the observed lunar calendar. What is less certain is the extent to which he knew or acknowledged the misalignment with the original biblical system. The book treats this as deliberate deception. I would say it was pragmatic compromise with inadequate examination of what was being lost. That is a less dramatic reading but it may be more historically accurate.
What this book means for me as a Jew.
It means that the question of whether we are keeping the right Sabbath is not a Christian question imposed on us. It is our own question, suppressed by our own institutions, still alive in the Karaite tradition, still visible in the Dead Sea Scrolls, still written every month in the sky above Jerusalem.
The author says the Moon still marks the Seventh Day four times every month at 90, 180, 270 and 360 degrees. He says this requires no rabbi, no calculation, no institution. He says God placed it there precisely so that it could not be moved by the same hands that moved everything else.
As a Jew reading that, I feel something I did not expect to feel.
I feel that he might be right.
And I feel the weight of what it would mean if he is.
My verdict as a Jew.
This is not an anti-Jewish book. It is a book that takes the Torah more seriously than most Christian authors do and more seriously than many modern Jewish institutions do. It stands on Genesis, Exodus, Psalms and the prophets and asks whether our practice matches our text. That is the most Jewish question there is.
We have always been a people who argue with God and with each other. This book is that argument. It is not polite. It is not comfortable. But it is serious, and it deserves a serious answer.
I have not found one yet.
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