Years ago, when I first began writing on this blog, I started with a series about the Hidden Messiah. Even then, it felt like a deep and urgent theme. Since then, years have passed. Much has changed in the world, in Israel, and in me. I’ve rethought many things, and wrestled with old questions in new ways. But this theme—the hiddenness of the Messiah—hasn’t gone away. If anything, it feels more relevant than ever. And so, I’m returning to it now, with new ideas, fresh insights, and a deeper sense of how this mystery speaks to our turbulent time.
Messianic Secret
One of the most striking elements of the gospels is what scholars call the “Messianic Secret”: Jesus is frequently portrayed as seeking to maintain an element of secrecy about his own person and work throughout the length of his public ministry (sometimes even openly discouraging use of the title ‘Messiah’. Let us have a look at some scriptures where Jesus directly forbade others to speak of Him as Messiah: He said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered and said, ‘The Christ [Messiah] of God.’ And He strictly warned and commanded them to tell this to no one.[1] A similar ban accompanies all His healings of Israelites: the cleansing of the leper, the raising of Jairus’ daughter from the dead, and the healing of the two blind men, to name a few. These and many other stories are almost unavoidably accompanied by a concluding commentary: and He strictly warned him… and said to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone’;’[2] but He commanded them strictly that no one should know it;[3] and Jesus sternly warned them, saying, ‘See that no one knows it.’[4] He didn’t just recommend that they not say anything – He forbade them to talk about it, and almost always strictly or sternly. Actually, the only thing that Jesus did sternly was to forbid people to discuss His Messianic identity and miracles.
In fact, the only time in the entire New Testament that He reveals his Messianic identity is in the scene with the Samaritan woman in John 4. Just think of that! The only time when He speaks of it, is not to a Jewish person but to a Samaritan woman, and even then only at a time when His disciples had gone away into the city to buy food[5] – that is, when there was not a single Jewish person in sight! In the same way, the healing of the demon-possessed man from the Gentile country of the Gadarenes also presents a striking contrast to all the stories quoted above: In answer to his request to follow Him, Jesus tells the healed man, ‘Go home to your friends, and tell them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how He has had compassion on you.’[6] Thus, Jesus was ready to reveal His identity to the Gentiles, but was very careful not to reveal it to the Jews. Once again, this recurring theme is so strong in the Gospels that scholars call it the “Messianic Secret.”
Not by Flesh and Blood
Why would Jesus, the Messiah, ask others to remain silent about His identity? If He truly was the fulfillment of the messianic prophecies, why would He not want people to know? The answer, as proposed in this series, is that Jesus’ hiddenness was part of God’s design: the failure to recognize Jesus as the Messiah was not due to the spiritual blindness of the Jewish people, but was, in fact, part of God’s plan. This plan is not one of rejection, but one of hiddenness. God intended for the Messiah to be concealed from Israel—except for those to whom He chose to reveal Him: “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 16:17). By keeping His identity secret, Jesus was fulfilling the prophecy of a Messiah who would come unrecognized.
Hidden Messiah in Jewish Thought
The idea that the Messiah would remain hidden or unrecognized until the appointed time is deeply rooted in Jewish thought, especially within the apocalyptic literature of the time. The First Book of Enoch, for example, speaks of a hidden savior who would appear at the end of days. Similarly, the Qumran community, with their strict observance of the Law and their eschatological expectations, also envisioned a Messiah who would come in secret and remain unrecognized until the proper moment. This idea of a concealed or “unrecognized” Messiah permeates many strands of Jewish thought during the Second Temple period, providing a framework for understanding why Jesus’ contemporaries might not have immediately recognized Him as the Promised One.
The theme of the hidden Messiah is not limited to apocalyptic and sectarian writings. Rabbinic literature also contains references to the Messianic Age and the mystery surrounding the Messiah’s arrival. These texts suggest that the coming of the Messiah would not be an easily discernible event but one that required a deeper spiritual insight. The full revelation of the messiahship would not be realized until the right time—until God chose to reveal it.
The Hidden Messiah motif, then, is not a deviation from Jewish thought but rather a fulfillment of it. Jesus’ life and ministry, as recorded in the gospels, fit within the Jewish expectations of a concealed and unrecognized Messiah. His reluctance to reveal His identity, the secrecy surrounding His miracles, and the limited revelation of His true nature all point to a divine plan in which the Messiah’s hiddenness is integral to the fulfillment of prophecy.
Retelling the Story
One of the big questions that has hovered over Jewish-Christian dialogue for centuries is this: If Jesus really was the Messiah, why didn’t the Jewish people recognize Him? Why didn’t the very people to whom the promises were given, embrace Him when He came?
For many Christians, the answer has seemed obvious: spiritual blindness. “He fulfilled the prophecies, but they just didn’t see it,” they say. And unfortunately, that idea has fed centuries of accusations and misunderstanding.
But what if the story is more complicated—and more beautiful—than that?
In the Gospel of Luke, there is a powerful scene where two of Jesus’ disciples are walking down the road to Emmaus, heartbroken and confused after his crucifixion. A stranger joins them. They don’t recognize Him—it’s Jesus Himself—and only later, when He breaks bread with them, do their eyes suddenly open. It’s an unforgettable moment of revelation.
What if Israel is on that same road? What if the Jewish people simply haven’t had their “Emmaus moment” yet—not because they were blind, but because the story hasn’t been told to them in a way they can truly recognize? What if God Himself intended it this way?
When we start seeing Jesus’ hiddenness, not as a failure, but as a fulfillment of the Divine Plan, it changes everything. We can stop pointing fingers; we can begin telling the story in a new way, one that’s faithful both to the Jewish roots of the Messiah and to the mystery of how God works. And maybe now is the moment in history when more and more people—on both sides —are ready to have their Emmaus moment. Maybe it’s time for us to see the story again, not as a tragedy of rejection, but as a divine design of hiddenness and revelation.
Maybe this is the moment in history when more and more people—on both sides of this ancient divide—are ready to have their Emmaus moment. Maybe it’s time for us to see the story again, not as a tragedy of rejection, but as a divine design of hiddenness and revelation.
And for Israel, walking through such painful and uncertain times right now, this theme of the Hidden Messiah feels more relevant than ever. It speaks to our national ache, our searching hearts, and our unanswered questions. It reminds us that silence is not absence, and hiddenness is not abandonment.
Because maybe—just maybe—the One we’ve been waiting for is already here.
Maybe He has been walking beside us all along.
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