Dad and I were at service today, and the humans were talking about Torah things like fabrics, tzitzits, and halachah, while I was mostly trying to figure out if anyone dropped food. Then a person came in late. He didn’t say anything big yet, didn’t launch into a speech, didn’t declare anyone wrong, but his leading questions were like when a squirrel twitches its tail — you don’t need the whole chase to know what’s about to happen. Dad saw it. Leadership saw it. Even I saw it, and I’m a dog. He was heading straight toward the lunar‑reset Sabbath argument, the one where people say the Jews have it wrong, the weekly Shabbat resets every new moon, and they’ve discovered a new biblical truth.
Leadership stepped in before it derailed the teaching. Not to say he was wrong, not to shame him, not to shut down his conviction, but because halachic challenges belong in private with the leadership, not in the middle of a service, and because conviction is personal while authority is communal.
Dad says the new moon is the start of a new month, a marker for moedim, part of the biblical calendar, a celebration, and a time for offerings. But the new moon is not a reset of the weekly Shabbat, not a recalculation of the seven‑day cycle, not a replacement for “six days work, seventh day Shabbat,” and not a command to restart the week monthly.
The weekly Shabbat was created before the moon existed, so the moon marks months, not weeks. Even I get that, and I eat grass sometimes.
Paul told the Romans in Romans 14:5–6 that the one who eats, eats to the Lord, and the one who abstains, abstains to the Lord. One person esteems one day above another, and another esteems every day alike. Let each be fully convinced in his own mind. And the big one from Romans 14:4: who are you to judge another man’s servant.
Meaning that if someone has a conviction, that’s between them and God, but they do not have the authority to declare others wrong. Personal conviction does not override communal halachah. You cannot impose your interpretation on others, and you cannot condemn someone else’s obedience. This is exactly what almost happened today.
Dad says Yeshua told Peter in John 21:21–22, “If I want John to do something different, what is that to you. YOU follow Me.” Meaning you are accountable for your obedience, not someone else’s, not someone else’s conviction, not someone else’s halachic journey, and not someone else’s calendar interpretation. This is the heart of the matter.
And while Dad was explaining all this to me at the campsite, I saw the neighbor — the cold‑shoulder neighbor — walking by like he was allergic to friendliness. I forgot my job for a second, the job Dad gave me. I almost barked, almost judged, almost decided what his problem was.
But Dad said, “Kenny… you follow me.” And suddenly the whole teaching made sense. Just because the neighbor acts cranky doesn’t mean I get to decide his calling. Just because someone has a lunar‑reset conviction doesn’t mean they get to decide yours. Just because someone thinks they discovered a new biblical truth doesn’t mean they get to boss other people’s obedience.
Dad says if the lunar‑reset Sabbath is your conviction, follow it — that’s between you and God.
But you do not have the authority to declare that others, who follow the continuous weekly Shabbat, are wrong. The most important thing is not violating Torah.
Everything else is secondary, and division over secondary issues is sin, not righteousness.
Or in Kenny language: do your job, let others do theirs, you’re not their owner.
If this message stirred something in you, sit with it for a moment. Let it breathe. Let it settle into the places where conviction meets humility, where obedience meets peace, where your walk meets His voice. Share this teaching with someone who needs the reminder that unity matters more than winning arguments. Subscribe so you don’t miss the next drasha, and leave a comment about how God is shaping your own convictions. And as you go into your week, notice how your mind begins to soften around the edges, how your heart becomes just a little more curious, how your spirit leans forward into the quiet places where He whispers, “You follow Me.”
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