There were no Jews at the Council of Nicea. That absence was not an accident; it was decreed by one empire, defended in the emperor's own letter, and enforced for centuries. What the severance cost, who carried the thread anyway, and why the whole record is evidence for Yeshua, not against him.
Christianity says Yeshua lived a perfect life as a substitute for yours. Read tamim in Hebrew and a different picture appears: not a spotless record waiting to be transferred, but a whole man shown to you. A word study, a doctrine with a birthday, and the question almost nobody asks about what the life was actually for.
The robe does not confer the text. It usually just ends the argument early. A Berean reading of why the credentialed teacher and the man too afraid to speak are the same failure, and why the beit midrash is the cure for both.
Psalm 119 is not a praise poem. It is one hundred and seventy-six verses of a man who loved the Torah and could not keep it, begging to be changed from the inside. The new covenant is the answer to that cry, and from Yeshua's own mouth to the last letter of Yochanan, the Brit Chadashah is standing exactly where the psalm stood.
Ask what happened in the three days between the cross and the empty tomb and you will get one of two answers: a holy pause, or a raid on hell. The Hebrew was built to say something else. The grave was a mikvah, the immersion of the new covenant itself, and what came up out of that water was a crowned King and a heart of flesh. Down a servant, up the King, and the water He rose through is the same water you were buried into.