In Aramaic, the word for fasting is ܨܘܡܐ (ṣomā), from the root ܨܡ (ṣam), meaning to abstain, to hold oneself back, or to stand still. But in the Semitic worldview, this word carries far more than the physical act of skipping meals it represents a deep spiritual meaning of surrender. www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

What did ancient Jewish thinkers teach about the union of faith and reason? Before the rise of the great Church Fathers and Christian theologians, there stood a profound voice bridging Hebrew revelation and Greek philosophy Philo of Alexandria. For more online video courses check our website:  www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com/academy 

Exploring the Didache’s spiritual, historical, and theological significance. Learn how this early Christian manual reveals the Church’s living tradition from baptism and Eucharist to moral formation and community life.   What you’ll gain: A guided introduction to one of Christianity’s earliest writings Insights into how early believers lived their faith Discussion on the Didache’s connection to ascetic and liturgical tradition   For more online Courses: www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com/academy 

Aramaic Word of the Day - ܙܥܘܪܐ (zaʿura) - Small, Little, Humble. I remember once guiding a lrage group through the ancient ruins of Capernaum, the town where Yeshua lived during much of His ministry. The basalt stones of the synagogue still rise in silent testimony, and the foundations of fishermen’s homes remind us that this was not a glamorous city but a humble village on the northern shore of the Galilee. for more in depth teachings check our online courses: www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

I remember standing in the Judean desert one hot afternoon, the kind of heat that presses down on you until your breath itself feels heavy. i remember one August in the mid of summer it reached 125 F. was very Hot and Dry with no wind. The desert has a way of stripping away illusions. In the West, you often imagine spirituality as something decorative, beautiful church buildings, air-condition, some churches i visited so freezing cold inside the church, full of inspiring worship music, or even neatly organized devotional books. But in the Middle East, faith was born in the desert. The wilderness was not decoration; it was the proving ground of trust. The barren landscape taught the early followers of God that survival itself depended on Him. The Aramaic word for today is ܢܣܝܘܢܐ (nesyona), meaning “test, trial, or proving,” from the Semitic root (ܢܣܝ) NSY, which carries the sense of being lifted up and examined to reveal what lies beneath. This word does not mean temptation in the sense of being seduced to sin, as many Western readers imagine, even the translation in the Lords prayer do not put us in temptations is a wrong english translation, the Aramaic word (nesyono) meaning "test, trial or proving" and not exactly temptation, but rather a test of character an opportunity for faith to be proven genuine. In early Syriac Christian writings, nesyona was the word used for the challenges that believers endured, not as punishment but as refinement, like gold tested in fire. Like Abraham in Genesis 22 wanted to sacrifice his son Isaac on Mount Moriah the Old testement word is (nesyono), i made a compete lecture about it in Twins Biblical Academy. Scripture itself illuminates this beautifully. In Matthew 4:1, we read: “Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted [tested] by the devil.” In Aramaic, this would have been nesyona a testing that revealed the strength of His obedience to the Father. Likewise, in James 1:2–3, we are told: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials [peirasmois in Greek, nesyone in Aramaic] of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” To an Eastern mind, trials were not interruptions of life but the very soil in which faith was meant to take root and grow. For your life today, the wisdom of nesyona speaks a liberating truth: your trials are not random punishments, nor are they meaningless disruptions. They are moments when your trust in God is being drawn out, revealed, and strengthened. Every trial that comes and every hardship will direct you to walk back into your path, like the paths of righteousness in the desert. Just as the desert pressed Israel to depend on manna and water from the Rock, your struggles press you to lean not on your own resources but on the living God. Instead of asking, “Why me?” the better question is, “What is God revealing in me through this nesyona?” The wilderness, though harsh, is where faith matures into steadfastness of trusting your creator. So when you face trials whether they are disappointments, hardships, or seasons of uncertainty remember that God is not absent. He is present in the testing, refining your heart, shaping your character, directing your path and preparing you for fruitfulness that could never grow in comfort alone. For more treasures of Aramaic words, biblical culture, and discipleship insights, visit www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com

I remember standing on the edge of the Judean wilderness, where the rocky cliffs fall sharply into dry wadis, and the silence feels heavier than words. As a tour guide, I often see visitors surprised by the vast emptiness of this land—no shade, no streams, only desert winds and the relentless sun. In the Western imagination, a desert is often a place of desolation and abandonment. But in the Semitic mind, the desert was not a place to fear—it was a place of encounter. In the Western world, silence is often seen as the absence of sound, a void to be filled with activity, music, or words. But in the Semitic world, silence carries weight and depth—it is not emptiness but presence. For our ancestors in faith, silence was not simply the lack of noise but the fertile ground where God’s word could take root and bear fruits. Today’s Aramaic word is ܫܬܝܩܘܬܐ (Shtiqotho), meaning “silence” or “stillness.” It comes from the root sh-t-q, which implies both quietness and attentive waiting. In Hebrew, its cognate shetīqāh carries the same idea. But in Aramaic, silence was not passive—it was active listening, a disposition of the heart that makes space for divine encounter. This is why early Syriac monks described their discipline of silence not as withdrawal but as “guarding the tongue so the heart can speak.” To practice Shtiqotho was to allow the soul to lean into God’s whisper. Consider Habakkuk 2:20: “But the Lord is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep silence (הַס) before Him.” In Aramaic thought, this was not a command to stifle yourself but an invitation to reverence. When Yeshua stood before Pilate, accused and mocked, His silence was not weakness but profound testimony. His Shtiqotho revealed His authority and trust in the Father’s plan. Likewise, in 1 Kings 19, Elijah did not find God in the earthquake or fire but in the qol demamah daqqah—the “still small voice,” which an Aramaic hearer would understand as the voice that is only discerned in silence. Now consider your own life. In Western culture, we often equate faith with constant speech—more prayers, more songs, more activity. But perhaps God is calling you into Shtiqotho , to rest from endless striving and rediscover that He is God in the stillness. When you embrace holy silence, you are not withdrawing from God but drawing nearer to Him. In silence, anxieties settle, distractions fade, and your spirit begins to hear the gentle leading of the Shepherd. Silence does not diminish faith—it sharpens it. So today, allow yourself a few moments of Shtiqotho. Step away from noise, resist the urge to fill every gap, and let God’s voice speak into your stillness. It is in the quiet spaces that transformation often begins. And if you would like to continue exploring how Aramaic words unlock the richness of Scripture and reshape discipleship. www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

The Wilderness: Midbaro (Dbar) I remember sitting in the desert near Jericho, watching the sun set over the Jordan Valley. The land seemed endless, dry, and silent, and I thought of the generations who wandered here prophets, exiles, and pilgrims who learned that life in the wilderness was not wasted time but the very place where God reshaped His people. To the Western mindset, a desert is a barren land to be avoided, a symbol of emptiness and lack. But in the Middle Eastern imagination, the desert is the classroom of God, a place of encounter, purification, and transformation. The wilderness strips away distractions until you hear only the voice that matters. Today’s Aramaic word is midbaro (Dbar), meaning “wilderness” or “desert.” Its root d-b-r carries multiple shades of meaning, including “to lead” and even “to speak.” This linguistic overlap is not accidental: in the Semitic world, the desert is where God leads (dbar) and where God speaks (dabar in Hebrew). The wilderness is not silence but the very theater of divine revelation. For those shaped by Greek or Western thought, revelation is often tied to temples, libraries, or polished sermons. But for the prophets of Israel and the early followers of Yeshua, revelation often came in the lonely windswept valleys of the desert, where the only sound was the whisper of God. Consider Deuteronomy 8:2, where Moses reminds Israel: “Remember how the Lord your God led you through the wilderness (בַּמִּדְבָּר / bammidbar) these forty years, humbling you and testing you to prove your character.” In Aramaic, the word dbar would have resonated deeply—it was not just the place of testing but also the place of voice, the arena where Israel learned dependence and covenant faithfulness. Yeshua Himself chose the dbar—forty days in the Judean wilderness—to confront the Adversary and to affirm His identity as the beloved Son. For Him, the wilderness was not an accident but a preparation. Judean Wilderness near Jericho Now think of your own journey. You may see seasons of dryness, silence, or waiting as wasted time. Western culture tells you that productivity and success are the only measures of meaning. But in God’s eyes, your dbar seasons are sacred. These are the places where distractions are peeled away, where old idols are burned off, and where your ears learn to recognize the Shepherd’s voice. If you are walking through a wilderness right now, do not despise it. The dbar is where God both leads and speaks, where He forms your character so that you can carry His presence with strength into the promised land of your calling. So today, embrace your wilderness moments as holy ground. Do not rush past them or curse their silence. Instead, listen—because the desert is not empty, it is filled with the voice of God. He is leading you in your dbar, and He will speak to you there. If you want to continue exploring how Aramaic words open Scripture with new light and meaning, I invite you to journey deeper at www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com #AramaicWisdom #BiblicalHebrew #MiddleEasternChristianity #TwinsBiblicalAcademy #JesusThroughMiddleEasternEyes #SemiticRoots #DailyDevotional #DesertFaith #JudeanWilderness

God tests Abraham, commanding him to take his son Isaac, whom he loves, to the land of Moriah and offer him as a burnt offering on a mountain. Abraham obeys without hesitation. At the critical moment, as Abraham raises the knife, an angel of YHWH intervenes, stopping him. A ram caught in a thicket is provided as a substitute sacrifice. The episode ends with divine reaffirmation of the covenant: Abraham's faithfulness will result in blessing and countless descendants.   For more in depth videos check our online Academy www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

In the West, birthdays are often a personal spotlight candles, gifts, and applause for one more lap around the sun. But here, in the land where the Scriptures were breathed, time feels different. In the Aramaic and Hebraic world, the day you were born is not just a date to repeat every year. it’s the moment God appointed you to step into His unfolding story.       I have spent much of my life leading others through the Holy Land land showing pilgrims the stones, the olive trees, the paths of Yeshua. But now, the Spirit is guiding me through the inner terrain of my own soul. There are fields inside me that need to rest, Old vineyards needing song again. I hear the shofar not with my ears, but in my chest. A blast of mercy. A call to begin again. For more video teachings check our Academy www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

Linguistic Threads Across Sacred Scrolls When we speak of the Hebrew Bible, many assume it was written exclusively in Hebrew. But the truth is far more textured—woven with threads of Aramaic that reflect not only linguistic evolution, but also the historical upheaval and cultural interaction that shaped the Jewish people. Aramaic was not merely a language of exile; it became a vessel through which Scripture was preserved, interpreted, and proclaimed. 📜 1. Scriptural Passages in Aramaic Though the majority of the Tanakh is in Hebrew, significant portions are written in Imperial Aramaic (אֲרָמִית). These include: Ezra 4:8–6:18 and 7:12–26 – Persian imperial correspondence, preserved in the administrative Aramaic of the empire. These passages offer us a rare glimpse into diplomatic exchanges and temple restoration edicts, revealing how Scripture also served as historical documentation. Daniel 2:4b–7:28 – The narrative shifts into Aramaic as Daniel begins interpreting dreams for Babylonian and Persian kings. This section contains prophetic visions relevant to Gentile empires, hinting that Aramaic was chosen to address a broader imperial audience. Jeremiah 10:11 – A lone verse in Aramaic: “The gods that did not make the heavens and the earth will perish.” This serves as a bold anti-idolatry proclamation, likely preserved in the lingua franca for clarity to foreign peoples. For more in depth teachings check our online academy www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

Discover the mystery of Pesher—the ancient interpretive key used by the Qumran community behind the Dead Sea Scrolls! In our upcoming webinar, we’ll explore how these early Jewish sectarians unlocked hidden meanings in biblical prophecy, believing they were living in the end times. Through Pesher, scriptures became divine messages decoded for their generation where figures like the “Wicked Priest” and “Teacher of Righteousness” emerged from the sacred texts themselves.   For more in depth teachings check our Academy www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com/academy   

How You Can Walk With Me 🔹 PRAY – Cover this journey in prayer. That I may hear clearly and write faithfully.🔹 CONNECT – Introduce me to a church, pastor, or believer in Vancouver (Aug 2–3) or Toronto (Aug 9–10).🔹 ENCOURAGE – Send a note. A scripture. A blessing. I will carry it with me.🔹 BLESS – If you’d like to sow into this sacred retreat, you can give through the ministry at Twins Biblical Academy.  For Donations to my Second Volume Book  www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com/give  Even a cup of coffee’s worth helps me steward this calling. I’ll be sharing glimpses from the train window… and from the pages of the journey.Thank you for walking with me—not just in geography, but in spirit.    

Welcome back to season eleven with Aramaic Word of the day: "Laahana" which means My Vacation or my Resti pray you are enjoying these short in depth aramaic words that shaped first century mindset of the early followers of Yeshua and deepen our understanding for Today by learning the aramaic language  The Western word “vacation” comes from Latin vacare “to be empty, free.” In the Western world, vacation often means:"Stopping work so I can rest, escape, or entertain myself." In Aramaic, we don’t say “vacation.” That’s a modern word, born from the idea of escaping work, escaping responsibility, escaping noise. But in our tongue, the word is (Laahna). It means rest, yes but not the way the West imagines it. Laahna is soul-rest. It’s not absence of work. It’s the presence of stillness. Not a schedule-free week, but a heart returned to rhythm. You see, Westerners plan their “vacations” like military operations: flights, hotels, bucket lists. They miss what our ancestors knew: real rest begins inside. Laahna is what Yeshua did on the seventh day not because He was tired, but because He was satisfied. But in the Eastern (Semitic) mindset, the concept of “vacation” is not absence of duty, but presence of restoration, purpose, and inner stillness. As a guide from the Judean hills and the alleyways of Jerusalem, I’ve walked with many pilgrims well, they call themselves “tourists.” They come with cameras and checklists, ready to “see the Holy Land,” but often miss something far holier: rest. I’ve watched travelers rush through the Garden of Gethsemane, take a photo, and say, “Done!” But did they ever sit under the olive trees and breathe? Did they let the silence speak? That silence is Lahna. It’s what Elijah found on Mount Horeb not in the wind or the earthquake, but in the still, small voice. Laahna is restoration, not recreation. It’s when your insides are aligned again. That’s why Yeshua said, “Come to me, all who are weary and I will give you rest. Not a sabbatical from your job. A homecoming to your purpose. This is not simply about physical exhaustion it’s about being weary in your being, tired from the weight of life, expectations, and performance. Yeshua wasn’t offering a Mediterranean cruise. Yeshua was offering Laahna a rest that reorders the soul and returns you to the rhythm of Eden. I live in Texas now, in a small space with no office but back home in Jerusalem, even our stones breathe history. Even our desert has rhythm. I take the train sometimes just to write, to slow my soul down, to remember that Laahna is not about location. It’s about intention. So next time you think of coming to Israel not for a vacation, but for something deeper remember Laahna. Come not just to see the land, but to let the land see you. Come not just to hear the stories, but to let your story be rewritten by sacred stillness. Because the Holy Land doesn’t just want your footsteps. It wants your quiet. It wants your confession. It wants your transformation. Think of it as a Laahna moment. A pause not of emptiness, but of presence  where the land  doesn’t just receive you, but recognizes you. You don’t come here merely to see ruins or landscapes. You come to be seen by olive trees that have outlived empires, by waters that have heard the whispers of prophets, by hills that still hold the echo of Yeshua’s footsteps. In the West, we “go on vacation” to escape. But in the East, we withdraw to return. To withdraw, like Elijah to the cave. Like Yeshua to the wilderness. Like monks to the Judean cliffs where the silence isn’t empty, it’s full of God. So come not to walk where Jesus walked but to walk with Him again, in your own inner desert. Let the stories of Scripture stop being museum pieces and start becoming mirrors  where your soul sees what it forgot. Finally my prayers to you let Laahna not vacation be your guide. Not rest from work, but return and rest Laahna to what you were made. The Land is waiting for you in 2026, and i pray i wi

In the Middle Eastern mindset, to follow a master is to imitate his very essence. But in the Western world, you often separate knowledge from life. A teacher gives you information. A student takes notes. But in the world of Jesus, a Rabboni gives you himself. That’s why Mary didn’t cry out “Rabbi!” or “Jesus!”She said: With the tears of recognition. With the intimacy of a disciple who had once been lost—and now was found in His voice. This one word captures a universe of longing, grief, hope, and reunion. When was the last time you didn’t just study Jesus, but called out to Him as your Rabboni? When was the last time you let His presence find you, like He found Mary by the empty tomb? Let today be that day. Call Him Rabboni not with your head, but with your heart. Mary’s cry in the garden still echoes today. She didn’t just see Him. She knew Him. Learn more at 👉 www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com #AramaicWisdom #Rabboni #MiddleEasternFaith #JesusThroughMiddleEasternEyes #BiblicalAramaic #TwinsBiblicalAcademy

Welcome to season eleven Aramaic Word of the day: "Enasha" (Human, Man) I remember standing on the Southern Steps of the Temple, where the original stones still hold the dust of generations. The sun was dipping low over the Mount of Olives, and the group grew quiet. A young man in my tour asked me, "Do you really believe Jesus walked here?" I turned and placed my hand on the warm limestone.“He didn't just walk here,” I said. “He waited here. He breathed here. He was a man—like you and me.” Then I told him to say this word in Aramaic to repeat after me: (Enasha) This, I told him, “is what He became.” In Aramaic, enasha doesn't just mean "man" or "person." It speaks of mortal humanity not the noble, dignified crown of creation, but the vulnerable, dependent, relationally exposed creature. In Psalm 8:4 – “What is man that You are mindful of him?”  The Hebrew and Aramaic (Enosh) both imply fragility, even woundability.  Daniel 7:13 – “I saw in the night visions, and behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a Son of Man; "bar enosh” (Son of Man) and he came to the Ancient of Days and was presented before Him.”   This is not merely a title of authority, but a profound paradox a human figure exalted to the clouds of heaven.  It’s as if Yeshua is saying: “To be truly human is the path to divine nearness.” When I look into that young man standing at the southern steps, I told him of how easily life can be lost, we are weak human beings. We are not machines. We are not ideas. We are not gods. We are enasha—we bleed, we laugh, we forget, we need one another. And in that frailty, we reflect the image of the One who made us. The Western mind says: “Stand tall.”The Aramaic heart whispers: “Fall on your knees, and you will stand higher than ever before.” In the Western mindset, being human often means being autonomous, rational, and self-made. Identity is rooted in individualism "I think, therefore I am." Manhood is tied to strength, agency, and control, and success is measured by how much one can achieve or conquer. The ideal human is one who stands tall, independent, and unshaken. Weakness is something to overcome, and vulnerability is often hidden. In this view, to be human is to rise above fragility, to master oneself and the world.  But in the Middle Eastern, Aramaic way of seeing, to be human (Enasha) is to be dependent, relational, and grounded in community. You are not a soul in isolation but a soul in covenant. Manhood is not about dominance, but about humility, responsibility, and the ability to carry others. Identity is not discovered alone, but received through belonging: "I am known, therefore I am." Weakness is not shameful it is the sacred space where Yeshua meets you. In this view, to be human is not to rise above the dust but to remember that you are dust, and still deeply loved. We westernize Yeshua so quickly make Him untouchable, distant, doctrinal. But if you stand here long enough, on these Southern Steps, and let the silence speak… you’ll remember: He was Human enasha. Not in disguise. Not pretending. Not Superman with a robe.He was tired. Hungry. Misunderstood. Tempted.And still, He trusted the Father. That’s what true humanity is. The same elohim who formed Adam from dust chose to become dust to walk these steps so we would never again walk alone. welcome to the southern steps were jesus walked and taught scripture, then i thanked the young man in my group for his question, and then we continued our day back to the hotel.   For more in depth teachings this is the link below: www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com/academy 

Midrash (מִדְרָשׁ)—from the Hebrew root ד־ר־שׁ (darash), “to seek, inquire, interpret”—is not merely commentary. It is a living dialogue with the sacred text, seeking not only what it says, but what it does, and how it continues to speak. In the Aramaic mindset, where language reveals reality through action rather than abstraction, Midrash becomes a performance of the Word, an interpretive drama within the covenant community. In this way, Midrash is both interpretive theology and spiritual excavation, where each layer of the scroll reveals another layer of the soul. Two Levels: Covert and Overt Midrash We can divide the midrashic interpretive strategies in Qumran into two functional categories—overt and covert—based on their level of disclosure and hermeneutical transparency. For More Teachings check our online Video Academy: www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com   

Welcome to season eleven Aramaic Word of the day: Noura — Fire. As a Middle Eastern guide shaped by the ancient stones of Jerusalem, I often stand by a campfire in the Judean hills and watch the flames dance alive, unpredictable, and warm. That fire, in Aramaic, is Noura. But it is not just physical heat or chemical reaction. No In our world the Semitic world Noura is presence. It is life, purification, judgment, revelation, and divine encounter. Noura as Manifestation In the Bible, Noura is how God appears not in abstraction, but in relational intensity. Think of Exodus 3: “The bush was burning with fire but it was not consumed.” Noura is theophany - God made visible. But Western thinking? It reduces fire to a thing. An element. A force to be studied, measured, and controlled. Fire in science labs. Heat on thermostats. A survival tool. In our world, fire is not tamed it is encountered. Noura as Purification In Semitic thought, Noura purifies. Daniel’s friends in the furnace (Daniel 3) weren’t burned they were cleansed. Fire revealed their faith and the presence of the divine Fourth Man walking with them. Fire is not punishment; it is refinement. Western theology often frames fire as hellfire, destruction, and fear. “You will burn if you fail.” But the Aramaic heart sees Noura as the flame that refines gold, not the one that destroys straw. Fire tests. It does not torment. It reveals. Noura and Light The root of Noura is also tied to light. The fire of God gives vision. In Psalm 119, the word is a lamp to my feet that’s Noura guiding the soul through darkness. In Western thought, light is often symbolic of knowledge illumination of the mind. Think Enlightenment, progress, reason. But in our Semitic walk, light is relational clarity, not just cognitive. It's how you see God, not just how you learn facts. In Aramaic, to have Noura is not to know more it’s to walk closely. Noura in the Heart When the disciples walked with Yeshua on the road to Emmaus, they said: “Did not our hearts burn within us?” (Luke 24:32). That is Noura not intellectual persuasion but heart ignition. A Middle Eastern man does not say, “I agree with your argument.” He says, “My heart burns.” That’s how we know truth—by inner fire. In contrast, Western thought often seeks truth through cold logic and philosophical systems. But our ancestors knew: if the truth does not burn, it is not yet alive. My brother, my sister have you experienced Noura? Not just the warmth of emotion, but the fire that reveals, refines, and invites you closer? Ask yourself: Is the Word just ink on a page, or is it fire in your bones? Is your theology cold, or does it set hearts ablaze? My hope is this:That you no longer fear fire, but welcome it.That the presence of Noura in your life would not consume you,but illuminate the face of the One who walks beside you in the furnace. Please always remember that the fire of God is not against you. It is for you. Come closer to the fire in your heart.  For more in depth studies check our website: www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

Welcome to season eleven Aramaic Word of the day: Malkutha — Kingdom As your guide through the streets of Jerusalem, I don’t just point out ruins. Show only churches and archeological sites. I help people to remember the world Yeshua walked, the language He spoke, and the Kingdom He proclaimed. And today, I want to walk you into one of His most powerful words:  Malkutha — Kingdom. In Aramaic, Malkutha doesn’t just mean a realm or a place. It’s the reign of Goaad made visible not in walls or palaces, but in the way we live, love, and listen. When Yeshua stood on the Mount of Olives, just behind me, looking toward the Temple, He wasn’t dreaming of taking back political control. He wasn’t interested in a crown of gold.He was revealing a different kind of kingdom one that starts within you, not on top of the mountain.  Again when I guide pilgrims from the West specially on the mount of olives and when i speak about the kingdom of God and the temple mount and his reign, I often see this difference unfold before my eyes. The Western mind wants structure. It wants to define the Kingdom where is it? Who’s in charge? What’s the system? It thinks like Rome: build it, measure it, enforce it. But here in the East in the Semitic world of the Bible we don’t define the Kingdom, we experience it. I have questions from the pilgrims from the West: “Where is the Kingdom?”In Jerusalem: “Who is the King and is He welcome at your table?” They want answers Now they want to understand and have fact.  Also in the West: “What are the boundaries?”In the East: “What is the relationship?” Then i answer them from scripture That’s why in Luke 17:21, Yeshua says: "The Kingdom of God does not come with observation... behold, the Kingdom of God is within you." He was speaking like a Galilean rabbi, not a Greek philosopher.He was drawing from the well of intimacy, not institution. Then i give them this example As a guide, my life is not about showing people pretty views, it is about bearing witness to the Kingdom in action. When I walk the Via Dolorosa with guests. When I lead prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane. When I share bread with strangers at the Damascus Gate. That’s Malkutha the Kingdom becoming flesh again in us. It’s not something we wait for. It’s something we live. And we either reveal it or resist it by how we treat the poor, the enemy, the orphan, and yes, the tourist too. So today, my friend, whisper the word: Malkutha. Let it roll gently from your tongue like olive oil from a press.  And ask yourself: “Is the King just a belief in my head? Or is He reigning through my hospitality, my forgiveness, my courage, my joy?”  Here in Jerusalem, we don’t ask where is the Kingdom? We ask: Are you letting it break in, like light through an ancient window? from your home from your heart.  Yeshua’s kingdom is not far it is as close as your next act of love. it is inside you, you do not need to search for it outside or in Jerusalem or in the temple or in any place.  It is you! i pray that you are encouraged today and the Aramaic word of the day touched your heart.  For more in depth teaching www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com 

Welcome to season eleven Aramaic Word of the dayAs an Israeli guide who’s spent years walking the dusty roads of ancient Galilee and praying beneath the arches of many monasteries, I often pause when I hear Western believers speak of the "Holy Spirit." They say Spirit, and I nod but my heart whispers: Ruḥa You see, in the Aramaic world of Jesus, Ruḥa isn’t just “spirit” the way the Western, Indo-European mind understands it as something abstract, immaterial, or metaphorical. In the West, shaped by Greek dualism and Enlightenment rationalism, “spirit” is often divorced from breath, body, and movement. It becomes a concept something to analyze, categorize, and sometimes, to doubt. But in the Semitic world — in Aramaic — Ruḥa is breath. It is wind. It is life itself. Ruḥa comes from the verb (raḥ) to blow, to exhale, to cause movement. Every time someone in ancient Israel said Ruḥa, they were speaking of something felt  the stirring of a breeze across your skin, the warm exhale of a mother over her newborn child, the final sigh of a man at death, and the first gasp of a baby at birth in the Aramaic mindset, Ruḥa is never separated from action. It’s not a distant, ethereal presence it is the invisible that moves the visible. Like the wind over the Sea of Galilee, it cannot be seen, but its power is always known by what it stirs. Now compare this with the Western idea. In Indo-European thought take Latin spiritus, or Greek pneuma we begin to move toward abstraction. Spiritus is elevated, intellectual, something more philosophical than personal. The body is often seen as separate or even lesser. But in Semitic thinking, and especially in Aramaic, there is no separation between the breath of God and the life of a human. The two are intertwined. God's Ruḥa animates us moment by moment. That’s why when Yeshua breathed on His disciples in John 20:22 — “And he breathed on them and said, Receive the Holy Spirit”  the Aramaic understanding is not metaphorical. It is literal. The breath of the risen one is the Spirit. He didn’t give them a “doctrine of pneumatology.” He gave them His Ruḥa His presence, power, and nearness in breath. Let me tell you something I’ve learned from standing in the prayer caves of the Judean desert in Qumran. If you quiet your soul enough, you can feel the Ruḥa there not because it’s emotional, but because it’s reeal. The Aramaic word doesn’t ask, “What is the Spirit?” It asks, “Where is the Spirit blowing?” And that question implies a sacred responsibility: to move with it. Reflect and Breathe My question for you, my friend:Are you walking with the Spirit like an idea, or like a breath? Are you analyzing God or inhaling Him? My hope is that as you learn the language of Jesus, you learn to breathe again with Him. Slowly. Deeply. Without rush. Because Ruha is already within you. All you have to do is listen for the wind. That was the Aramaic word of the Day, for more in depth Aramaic words check our website www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com  

As a teacher and guide to the Bible in its original Middle Eastern setting, I want to invite you into a deeper experience of Scripture one that bridges the Jewish world of Jesus with our world today. Many believers have heard of the Targum, but few truly know what it is. 🔹 Did you know that the Targum is how most Jews in Jesus’ time first heard the Bible?🔹 Did you know it doesn’t just translate the Hebrew — it interprets, expands, and even whispers Messianic hopes through Aramaic eyes? Join me for a live webinar where I will take you into the world of the Targum: Why it matters for your understanding of the Gospels How the early Church Fathers viewed it What Aramaic phrases Yeshua used that echo Targumic traditions For more indepth teachings check our online Academy: www.twinsbiblicalacademy.com