Israel of God

Israel — From a Name to an Identity

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The name Israel appears in the Bible after an angel wrestled with Jacob. The angel announced that Jacob’s name would now be Israel. Why? Because he wrestled with God and with men and prevailed. His new name became his identity and a reminder of his long journey in obtaining the blessing of the firstborn—a blessing that, by human custom, should have belonged to his older brother Esau.

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While Esau showed a lack of appreciation for the spiritual inheritance of his forefather Abraham, Jacob did everything he could to seize this privilege. For more than twenty years he lived as a refugee, away from his angry brother. Jehovah led him back into the Promised Land, and although it was clear that Jehovah supported Jacob during his exile and directed his return, Jacob was still afraid.

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Even after his father-in-law informed him that Jehovah personally restricted him from saying anything against Jacob, these evidences did not put Jacob at peace as he proceeded toward the Promised Land. Coming closer to it, around the place Jacob later called Mahanaim, he observed another extraordinary evidence of Jehovah’s support—the camp of angels. Still, his heart was terrified. He separated his camp into smaller groups and placed himself behind them.

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That night Jehovah sent His angel to wrestle with Jacob. Jacob did not give up. He kept fighting for the blessing. Finally, the angel announced that Jacob had prevailed. We can imagine how reassured Jacob must have felt at that moment—Jehovah confirmed his support and Jacob’s rightful claim to the firstborn blessing. According to the angel, Jacob contended with God and with men and at last prevailed. That was the exact reason why the angel assigned him the name Israel, meaning Contender with God or God contends.

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"Finally Jacob was left by himself. Then a man began to wrestle with him until the dawn broke. When he saw that he had not prevailed over him, he touched the socket of his hip; and the socket of Jacob’s hip was dislocated during his wrestling with him. After that he said: “Let me go, for the dawn is breaking.” To this he said: “I am not going to let you go until you bless me.”

So he said to him: “What is your name?” to which he said: “Jacob.” Then he said: “Your name will no longer be Jacob but Israel, for you have contended with God and with men and you have at last prevailed.” In turn Jacob inquired: “Tell me, please, your name.” However, he said: “Why is it that you ask my name?” With that he blessed him there.

So Jacob named the place Pe·niʹel, for he said, “I have seen God face-to-face, yet my life was preserved.” (Genesis 32)

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This is the origin of the name Israel.

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From One Man to a Nation

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As we know, this same story continued with the nation that came from Jacob. His twelve sons became the foundation of God’s chosen nation—a nation that continued the inheritance of the firstborn. This inheritance was often questioned, especially because this nation went through many ups and downs while playing its role in front of all other nations. Israel became a kind of living, theatrical spectacle, demonstrating how Jehovah deals with those who become part of His family.

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This nation sometimes contended with Jehovah, but—just like Jacob—continued to prevail in the struggle for the blessing.

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When Israel as a nation fell into slavery in Egypt, Jehovah redeemed it from Pharaoh’s oppression. “Israel is my firstborn,” Jehovah announced to Pharaoh. Pharaoh did not understand this until Jehovah took Egypt’s firstborn, which finally led to Israel’s release.

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After that release, Jehovah considered all Israelite firstborn as belonging to Him. However, at that time it was fitting to substitute them with the Levites, who showed better obedience to another person chosen by Jehovah—Moses. Thus, the tribe of Levi became the priestly tribe instead of equal participation from all tribes.

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This was not an easy settlement. All the people belonged to Jehovah. All were holy. Jehovah made a covenant with the entire nation that they would become a holy nation, a royal priesthood for all other nations. This tension arose repeatedly. Who truly fought for the blessing in the same way Jacob did? It was not enough simply to desire the blessing—it depended on Jehovah’s approval.

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Through powerful manifestations, Jehovah repeatedly gave weight to the chosen priesthood and glorified it as the channel of communication between God and mankind. This was not limited to Moses’ era. The same tension continued for over 1,500 years, all the way until the change of the priesthood when Jesus received the title of High Priest of the great spiritual temple.

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Thus, centuries of tension between the Israel of God and its priestly tribe established a deeply engraved precedent: all the nation was holy, all were Israel of God, but only chosen ones served in the priestly capacity on behalf of the nation. Israel fulfilled its priestly role in a general sense toward the nations, but only selected ones served formally as priests in the temple.

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Jesus and the Transition to the Spiritual Temple

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When Jesus came with a better sacrifice, no one really understood how to enter the true temple with such a sacrifice. The physical temple stood in Jerusalem, its rituals carefully preserved, its priesthood firmly established. Yet the meaning of those rituals—their fulfillment—remained largely unseen. Jesus alone clearly comprehended access to Jehovah’s great spiritual temple and how redemption could be obtained, not only for the chosen nation, but for the entire world.

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"On the contrary, these sacrifices are a reminder of sins year after year, for it is not possible for the blood of bulls and of goats to take sins away. So when he comes into the world, he says: “‘Sacrifice and offering you did not want, but you prepared a body for me. You did not approve of whole burnt offerings and sin offerings.’ Then I said: ‘Look! I have come (in the scroll it is written about me) to do your will, O God.’”

After first saying: “You did not want nor did you approve of sacrifices and offerings and whole burnt offerings and sin offerings”—sacrifices that are offered according to the Law—then he says: “Look! I have come to do your will.” He does away with what is first in order to establish what is second.

By this “will” we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all time." (Hebrews 10)

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On the Day of Atonement’s prophetic fulfillment, within the framework of the 69 prophetic weeks described by Daniel, Jesus came to John the Baptist. John had been commissioned to identify the one who would receive an anointing with holy spirit. He was baptizing people in symbol of repentance for sins. Therefore, it did not seem appropriate to baptize Jesus, whose life and reputation testified that he had committed no sin.

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John hesitated. He did not yet realize that Jesus would step into his priestly role through baptism.

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However, in the Jerusalem temple, the High Priest also followed a pattern that went beyond what most people noticed. Before entering the sanctuary, he symbolically cleansed himself with water. Then, on the Day of Atonement, he dipped his finger in the blood of the bull for his own sins and for the sins of his household, and afterward in the blood of the goat for the sins of the entire nation. In this way, the High Priest acted on behalf of others. His actions were not about personal repentance alone; they were about representation, mediation, and access.

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In that sense, the priestly ritual itself functioned as a kind of baptism—not for himself only, but for those he represented.

No one fully understood how this ritual could be fulfilled in the spiritual temple where Jehovah actually resides. Jesus did.

On that day at the Jordan, Jesus dedicated himself as High Priest of a better covenant. He stepped onto holy ground. He accepted physical cleansing through baptism, not because he needed repentance, but to follow the divine pattern and complete what the ritual foreshadowed. As he came out of the water, he prayed—just as the High Priest would pray before approaching the Most Holy.

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At that moment, the heavens were opened. The Most Holy of the spiritual temple was revealed. Holy spirit descended upon Jesus, and a voice from heaven confirmed his identity.

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"However, when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have already taken place, he passed through the greater and more perfect tent not made with hands, that is, not of this creation. He entered into the holy place, not with the blood of goats and of young bulls, but with his own blood, once for all time, and obtained an everlasting deliverance for us.

For if the blood of goats and of bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who have been defiled sanctifies for the cleansing of the flesh, how much more will the blood of the Christ, who through an everlasting spirit offered himself without blemish to God, cleanse our consciences from dead works so that we may render sacred service to the living God?" (Hebrews 9)

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Jesus became the first human to experience such elevated heavenly perception. As he later stated, “Moreover, no man has ascended into heaven but the one who descended from heaven, the Son of man.”. This raises an unavoidable question: Who would respond to the same call—to become firstborns of the new creation?

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Would it require the same appreciation for spiritual inheritance that Jacob showed? The same persistence? The same willingness to press forward despite fear and uncertainty?

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Jesus later expressed it this way: “From the days of John the Baptist until now, the Kingdom is the goal toward which men press.” This is not passive waiting. It is active striving—seizing the blessing, as Jacob once did.

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This is what Jesus meant when he spoke to Nicodemus: “You must be born again.” Not that such rebirth can be accomplished by human effort alone—but also not without effort. The inheritance requires response.

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The Israel of God—the new nation—would inherit this same attitude.

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The Formation of the New Israel of God

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Jesus became the first to experience this elevated heavenly perception, but he would not be the last. As he later stated, no one ascends except the one who first descended. That statement alone raises a natural question: Who would follow him? Who would respond to the same call and become firstborns of the new creation?

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The answer did not come all at once. It unfolded gradually.

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Jesus explained that from the time of John the Baptist onward, the Kingdom became the goal toward which people pressed. This pressing was not ambition or competition; it was recognition of value. It was the same inner urgency that moved Jacob to seek the blessing at any cost (he contended with God and men). This attitude toward inheritance—this determination to seize what Jehovah offers—was essential.

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Thus, the Israel of God, the new nation, would not begin as a political entity or an ethnic continuation. It would begin as a response of the heart.

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This new Israel began with Jesus as the cornerstone and his apostles as the foundation. This was not an abstract concept, but a living process. The apostles became the first responsive members of this new nation, the nation Jehovah had promised through Jeremiah when He said: “I will make a new covenant… I will write it on their hearts.”

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More about how stones turn into hearts I describe elsewhere, on the page Stones and Hearts. Here, I want to stay with how this transformation began to take visible shape during the earliest stages of Jesus’ ministry.

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After his baptism in the Jordan and his anointing with holy spirit, Jesus attended the first Passover in Jerusalem. This was the first yearly celebration after he had stepped into his role as High Priest of the great spiritual temple. That visit marked a decisive shift—not in the temple itself, but in how Jesus now saw it.

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He no longer looked at the temple merely as a faithful Israelite. He looked at it with the eyes of the High Priest.

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What he saw was painful. The temple, meant to be a place of prayer and reconciliation, had become a place of commerce. Money changers and merchants filled the courts. Relationships between believers and Jehovah were being mediated through profit. Authority over this system was firmly in the hands of another high priest and his household, and everyone knew where the permission to commercialize worship came from.

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Jesus did not hesitate.

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With priestly authority, he cast out the money changers and overturned their tables. This was not an emotional outburst. It was a declaration. The holiness of the temple’s purpose had been violated, and the High Priest had arrived.

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Naturally, he was challenged: “By what authority do you do these things?” That question marked the true beginning of Jesus’ ministry. Perhaps Jesus had hoped for a different response—some openness, some humility, some recognition.

 

Instead, he encountered hardened hearts.

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His answer was both an invitation and a prophecy: “Tear down this temple, and I will raise it up in three days.”

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It could have been understood as an offer—an invitation to trust his authority and to perceive something greater than stone and ritual. Instead, it was heard as a threat. Even his disciples did not fully grasp what he meant. We can imagine how deeply ingrained resistance must have been at that moment.

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"Now the Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple those selling cattle and sheep and doves, and the money brokers in their seats. So after making a whip of ropes, he drove all those with the sheep and cattle out of the temple, and he poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. And he said to those selling the doves: “Take these things away from here! Stop making the house of my Father a house of commerce!”

His disciples recalled that it is written: “The zeal for your house will consume me.” Therefore, in response the Jews said to him: “What sign can you show us, since you are doing these things?” Jesus replied to them: “Tear down this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”

The Jews then said: “This temple was built in 46 years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was talking about the temple of his body. When, though, he was raised up from the dead, his disciples recalled that he used to say this, and they believed the scripture and what Jesus had spoken." (John 2)

 

To sense this scene more vividly, see the dramatized presentation in Good News According to Jesus, which brings this moment to life.

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Over the next three years, Jesus continued his work—patiently picking stones, clearing soil, cultivating hearts, preparing them to receive the true seed. One might expect that such sustained effort would soften those who controlled the temple. Yet no real change came.

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When Jesus returned to the temple for the final time and again overturned the tables, his words carried greater weight and sharper judgment. The High Priest now spoke with final clarity: “Robbers! Your house will be abandoned!”

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It was painful to witness such resistance. But alongside this rejection, something else was taking shape.

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There was a small group—men and women whose hearts had been prepared, whose soil had been softened. These were the ones with whom Jesus felt confident to make a covenant. From them, a new nation would be formed—a special possession, a royal priesthood.

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That nation began to rise on the third day after his death. Through the power of resurrection, their hearts responded. At Pentecost, the response was unmistakable. There was sound. There was movement. There was fire. Holy spirit filled them, and their tongues overflowed with praise. They produced what a royal priesthood is meant to produce—the fruit of the mouth, proclaiming the One who called them out of darkness into His wonderful light.

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Several thousand became members of this new Israel of God.

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From that moment, this priesthood received its assignment—to preach to the ends of the earth and to perform holy service in the great spiritual temple of Jehovah. What had begun with a cornerstone and a foundation was now becoming a living structure, built not of stone, but of hearts made responsive by spirit.

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Not all served in teaching roles. Not all prophesied or interpreted sayings. The spirit was distributed among them according to purpose, not uniformity. Unity prevailed between what Jesus called the little flock and the other sheep. All belonged. All became part of the spiritual Israel of God.

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Later, it was revealed that within this new nation, 12,000 from each tribe—144,000—would be purchased to serve in the capacity of kings and priests. This was an administrative office within the nation, not the totality of it. Jesus assured the first prospective members of both the nation and its priestly office that they would judge the twelve tribes of the sons of Israel.

This distinction—between the new Israel as a whole and the 144,000 purchased from within it to rule, judge, and mediate—is the root of the apparent discrepancy between these terms. Most publications of Jehovah’s Witnesses understandably follow the Revelation focus that highlights the 144,000 as an office, often in contrast to the great crowd outside that administrative role.

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For me, this distinction always existed intuitively.

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While our publications emphasize that the Israel of God refers to the 144,000, I understood the scriptures and respected the logic behind that explanation. At the same time, I think in images. And the image of 144,000 purchased from the twelve tribes of Israel immediately formed two pictures in my mind:

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1. a large entity—the entire Israel of God, and

2. a limited, strict number purchased from within that nation for an elevated assignment.

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I was not troubled by the lack of detailed articulation. What mattered to me was the origin of those who would be purchased from the earth into the heavenly realm. In the background of my thinking, the great crowd naturally appeared as an extension of this spiritual Israel of God—not part of the administrative office, but fully part of the covenant people.

The picture felt complete. I did not experience tension or confusion. Only later would I find words—already present in our publications—that quietly reconciled what I had always seen.

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The New York Moment That Stayed With Me

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That period of my life was not a time of intense study or deep reflection. In many ways, it was the opposite. I had been married for eight years. We had a one-year-old baby. Responsibility pressed from every side. I worked a lot, often tired, often stretched. Many privileges in service had quietly fallen away—not because of rebellion or discouragement, but simply because life demanded attention.

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Still, my wife and I held tightly to our spiritual routine. We studied The Watchtower regularly. We attended meetings faithfully. We went to assemblies. Those things were not dramatic for us—they were stabilizing. They kept us oriented when life felt heavy.

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We were part of the Russian circuit while living in Oklahoma, which meant that our closest Russian assemblies were usually held in New York or Florida. Traveling there three times a year became almost rhythmic. In a way, it reminded me of Jesus traveling from Galilee to Jerusalem for the festivals. Our trips were easier, of course, but they still required effort, planning, sacrifice. And there was joy in them—seeing familiar faces, meeting friends we didn’t see often, feeling connected to something larger than our daily routine.

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The summer of 2011 stands out clearly in my memory. We were in New York. I remember the atmosphere of the convention—the size of it, the multilingual crowd, the sense of international unity. I remember walking through the city afterward, tired but content, carrying convention materials, talking quietly with my wife.

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What I do remember clearly is that it was a Watchtower study article used at our congregation meetings. What I cannot recall with certainty is whether that article was studied during the very week of the assembly or whether we simply received the freshly printed issue while we were there. That detail remains blurred. But what is not blurred is where I was and how it felt when I read it—the sense that a clarification had finally been put into words, one I had not seen articulated so clearly in our publications before.

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We were in New York when that Watchtower article entered my awareness.

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I clearly remember having a conversation about it with the brother who was hosting us. He had married one of my wife’s close friends, and they often invited us to stay in their home whenever we came for the convention. That setting is still vivid to me.

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I remember speaking with him in an inspired, joyful way, telling him how happy I was to finally see a printed expression that reflected what I had long sensed—that the Israel of God could be understood in a way that included the great crowd as well. It was not an argument or a debate, just a sincere expression of relief and gratitude that something familiar to my thinking had finally found words on the printed page.

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I want to emphasize once more that at that time I was not in the same condition to recognize and address my spiritual needs through thorough study as I am now. I was fully occupied with family responsibilities. I worked on roofs 12 to 14 hours a day, and like most small business owners, I then had to spend additional time in the office dealing with documentation and paperwork. My spiritual routine consisted mainly of weekly meetings, yearly assemblies, and the quiet hours I spent with myself during physically demanding work, pondering the Scriptures.

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The spiritual universe was always rotating in my mind. I did more free surfing in God’s Word through meditation than through structured study. That period of my life feels to me like Jacob’s twenty years in Paddan-aram—years of labor, responsibility, uncertainty, and quiet shaping. My fight for the blessing during that time resonates deeply with Jacob’s own journey.

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Jacob’s vision of the ladder did not come at the end of his journey, but at the very beginning of it. He had just left Beer-sheba, running away from Esau. That moment marked the start of his separation from his immediate family and the beginning of his long years away from home. Alone, exposed, and uncertain about what lay ahead, Jacob was given a brief but powerful vision—a ladder set on the earth with its top reaching to the heavens, with angels ascending and descending on it. That vision did not remove his hardships, nor did it shorten his years of service, but it anchored his journey. Jacob called that place Bethel, the house of God.

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Since leaving Russia, I have sensed many such moments of separation and transition. Moments when familiar structures were left behind and the road ahead was unclear. The New York moment I describe here was not the only one, but it stands out vividly because of the theme I am unfolding. It felt like a Bethel moment—a point along the road where heaven briefly intersected with ordinary life, not to end the journey, but to orient it.

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Among Jehovah’s Witnesses, Bethel has traditionally been understood not merely as a place, but as an arrangement—a channel through which direction and understanding are conveyed, much like Jacob’s vision portrayed angels ascending and descending between heaven and earth. Seen in that light, my experience was not about geography, but about perception. It felt as though, for a moment, the curtain that covers the heavens was drawn aside, allowing a clearer sense of how guidance flows at the proper time.

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That is why this New York moment shines so brightly in my memory. It did not resolve everything. It did not end the work or shorten the years of labor. But like Bethel, it reassured me that the journey itself was seen, that the struggle for the blessing was understood, and that Jehovah was present and guiding the path forward.

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So, what did I sense?

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Who is “the Israel of God”?
Who are “the twelve tribes of Israel” that Jesus spoke about?

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As I read, something clicked—not explosively, not emotionally, but quietly and firmly. The article did not introduce a radical new teaching. It didn’t overturn anything. It simply said out loud something I had long carried internally but never heard articulated so directly.

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It connected the language of Israel used for the anointed with the language Jesus used for those who would receive life on earth. It allowed Israel imagery to function on more than one level—administrative and covenantal. It made room for a broader Israel without diminishing the priestly role of the 144,000.

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I remember thinking—not with excitement, but with relief:
So this is not just something I imagined. It is already here, quietly stated.

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At that moment, I didn’t feel like I had discovered something hidden. It simply settled into place, like a piece that had been waiting for its proper slot.

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Because my life was busy, I did not follow that thought much further at the time. I didn’t analyze it deeply. I didn’t trace it through Scripture the way I would later. But the association remained fixed in my memory: New York. Summer. That article. That quiet confirmation.

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Years later, when I returned to the theme of Israel of God more deliberately—this time with time, silence, and reflection—that memory resurfaced with surprising clarity. It felt like a marker Jehovah had placed earlier, waiting for me to reach it again from a different direction.

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That New York visit did not feel like a revelation at the time. It felt ordinary. And yet, looking back, it became a reference point—a reminder that the reconciliation I eventually reached was not sudden, not rebellious, and not new.

It had been with me for years.

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I had simply grown into the words needed to say it.

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w11 9/15 pp. 11-15  Are You Letting Jehovah Be Your Share?

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“Keep on . . . seeking first the kingdom and his righteousness, and all these other things will be added to you.”​—MATT. 6:33.

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1, 2. (a) “The Israel of God” mentioned at Galatians 6:16 represents whom? (b) At Matthew 19:28, whom do “the twelve tribes of Israel” represent?

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WHEN you read the name Israel in the Bible, what comes to your mind? Do you think of Isaac’s son Jacob, who was renamed Israel? Or do you think of his descendants, the ancient nation of Israel? What of spiritual Israel? When Israel is referred to in a figurative sense, it usually applies to “the Israel of God,” the 144,000, who are anointed with holy spirit to become kings and priests in heaven. (Gal. 6:16; Rev. 7:4; 21:12) But consider the special reference to Israel’s 12 tribes that is found at Matthew 19:28.

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Jesus said: “In the re-creation, when the Son of man sits down upon his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also yourselves sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.” In this verse, “the twelve tribes of Israel” are those who will be judged by Jesus’ anointed disciples and who are in line to receive eternal life in Paradise on earth. They will benefit from the priestly services of the 144,000.

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As you can see, this article connected exactly what I had always meant. And to be completely honest, after a few years of hard work and heavy responsibility, I had dropped some of my skills for thorough study. Perhaps it was not only this article that shaped my dual perception of the Israel of God; maybe that understanding had been forming even earlier.

This is just my personal story of perception. Others may have a different story.

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In my case, that New York visit became fixed in my memory as a kind of quiet revelation from The Watchtower—something familiar to me, something I had already sensed, but something that had never been articulated so clearly, at least not in the way I perceived it. Even today, I believe many would still take a firm stand that the Israel of God is the 144,000 and that the great crowd is not part of it. For me, however, it was always a unified perception. That New York trip is marked in my memory as the moment when that understanding settled. I did not make a big issue of it, and it seems no one around me did either.

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Now, when I was later encouraged to write this book—to put into words what I hear from Jehovah through His High Priest, the Word, Jesus Christ, and through the priestly channel, mainly the publications of the faithful and discreet slave, as well as my personal communion with other anointed brothers—the situation changed. (This second source is especially interesting to me, because at times I hear statements such as, “This anointed brother or sister said or thinks such and such,” and I pay close attention. I find it fascinating how deeply those thoughts often resonate with me. I mention this simply as an observation about how words coming from the priestly office sometimes reach my ears.)

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Once I received this assignment, the theme of the Israel of God became unavoidable. It is central. Most of the chapters—at least the most fundamental ones—were already written, and this chapter felt like the last of that caliber that I needed to articulate, and to do so very carefully.

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I hesitated.

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We wait for clarification of teachings and terms from the appointed channel, because unity is precious and easily disturbed. I would do everything I responsibly and lovingly can to preserve that unity. For a long time, I restrained myself from touching this theme, because publishing it could draw attention and potentially disturb peace.

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Nevertheless, I found a way to reconcile everything harmoniously. That reconciliation opened my mouth to speak.

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Here, I share how it happened for me.