Divine Law and Covenant…

A sermon by Sue Witty

Oakhurst Baptist Church, Decatur, Georgia

Sunday, May 29, 2005

What does it mean when God expresses discontentment over the activities of the world? What does it mean when God conveys to a prophet a word of hope for the future because the people of the present world just don’t seem to know God or to understand God’s will? And how are we to understand a God who creates and enters into a covenant relationship, and then appears to vacillate between whether or not God will deem that covenant null and void as a result of a people’s inability to maintain fidelity to the covenant? Was Jeremiah really a bullfrog? These are only a few of the questions that the book of Jeremiah as a whole and today’s reading in specific address.

Over the course of my life I have struggled with various religious views and perspectives, attempting to understand God’s presence and activity in the world. Somehow, the issue of divine law and rules have remained ever-present throughout this struggle, either peripherally or as the point of centrality. As children we learn early on about the story of Moses and the Ten Commandments. Then as we age and continue to study the Bible either in the quiet solitude of our own personal spiritual journeys or more formally in classes, we realize that the Old Testament contains many more than just ten commandments—somewhere around 316 tenets, in fact. It probably is not uncommon for people to wrestle with the youthful tension of wanting to obey the rules on one hand, while on the other hand questioning their purpose and intent. After all, some rules might be appropriate during certain eras in history and not in other eras. For example, one Deuteronomical law states that “A woman shall not wear a man’s apparel, nor shall a man put on a women’s garment” (Deut 22:5), but it seems in these days it’s often hard to distinguish between the two. Another law states that “When a man is newly married, he shall not go out with the army or be charged with any related duty. He shall be free at home one year, to be happy with the wife whom he has married” (Deut 24:5), which to me seems like a pretty reasonable and legitimate rule. And then of course there are many rules related to health concerns for the ancient Israelite community which no longer contain the risk factors that they used to. Nonetheless these tenets have been included in our Bibles, and are therefore worthy of our critical reflection and discussion.

I have to admit from the outset, though, that I have never been particularly gifted at obeying rules. And at times I just plain don’t want to! Perhaps I am not alone in this church community in my tendency to question laws. For me this propensity began when I was a child. If I was not supposed to run down the hallways in school, tell me why? If students were required to raise their hands and wait to be called on before speaking, why? After all, very often I forget whatever it is I wanted to express or inquire about by the time I am given an opportunity to speak. True, the reasons for these rules became clear enough over time, but at the given moment I questioned their purpose, which seems to have set me on a path for either inquisitive exploration through life or skeptical critique of various situations I encounter. Or maybe both. And so I progressed to a more mature line of questioning: If the law states that a person is not allowed to vote because she is a woman, why is that so? Or, if only people of a particular race are permitted to use that water fountain or to enter that building through that door (or to not enter that building at all), why? And if a given law is substantiated by defining which people are human and which people are not human (i.e. are considered “property”), how is that possible?

Another prime example may hit close to home. There may exist in the world a church denomination whose membership is strong and only continues to grow both nationally and internationally. This denomination may oversee the proceedings of more than 1,000 local organizations. Somewhere throughout the history of this denomination, its leaders determined that laws should be established in order to properly govern the growth and maintenance of the larger Church body. Then one day one of the local churches begins to question some of those laws: Why are certain people excluded from the Church that is the Body of Christ? Is this an ethically sound theological interpretation of Scripture? Would Jesus shut the doors of his temple and say, “I am sorry, you are not welcome here. I cannot offer you salvation”? And if the leaders of the denomination receive this line of questioning and respond with disagreement and disapproval, why? Perhaps I know why, but often it is the engagement in dialogue which is so critical. It is the openness and willingness to remain in conversation with others that may help elucidate the Word of God. But it seems rather evident that socially-constructed laws are not always just and should be critically analyzed if not altogether challenged. With that in mind, how then do we come to terms with God’s law, known to the Israelite community as “Torah”? Many people, myself included, feel that Torah or any other portion of the Hebrew Bible should not be regarded as an ancient theme that stands in the shadow of the New Testament. In fact, some would argue that the Old Testament is the illuminating agent which sheds light on and gives meaning to the New Testament Scriptures. As the readings from the Gospel according to Matthew indicate, Jesus did not necessarily come to abolish the law; instead, he came to fulfill the law and to reiterate to us which laws are most fundamental, significant, and paramount to maintaining a commitment with God. This might lead us to ask, “Why is the law so important to the covenant relationship between God and humanity? What is its function, and how does it impact the relationship?”

For the people of Jeremiah’s time, abiding by the tenets of God’s law was more crucial than ever because some believed that strict obedience would provide their salvation from the threat of the enemy Babylon—their faith and fidelity to God’s covenant would save them from the perils of war and destruction of their city. This historical predicament involved not only political uncertainty, but also the severe theological dilemma inevitably encountered by a people that understands historical events in light of faith convictions and religious practices. This is a community who believed that if their city is destroyed, it must be because they were not obedient enough; if their community is overtaken, it must be because they didn’t pray hard enough or well enough. Bearing in mind that the version of book of Jeremiah contained in the Bible is probably a product of pre-exilic, exilic, and post-exilic efforts and authorship,[1] it reflects various questions with which the Israelite community wrestled over the course of a century through a struggle with “loss, displacement, and the absence that could only result from God’s abandonment”[2] during the fall of Judah in 598/7 and 587 BCE followed by restitution and the construction of a new temple in 515 BCE. Jeremiah appears to have predicted the fall of Judah, and as such, feverishly implored the covenant community to develop a deeper understanding of God’s law—Torah. Yet ultimately, history seems to inform us that whether or not the people obeyed God’s law, their government was overtaken by Babylon and a significant portion of the community was sent into exile. And since it is the case that events beyond human explanation transpire at times in spite of our best or most faithful efforts, we are led to ask ourselves what it is that God seeks in a covenantal relationship. This inquiry resonates as clearly with our own community and society as it did for Jeremiah’s community over 2500 years ago. And the starting point—the very heart of the matter—in exploring an answer to this question is with the heart itself.

The prophetic word declares that in the future God will write His law upon our hearts, that we may come to truly know God. Use of the word “heart” here is not to be taken lightly. In contrast to our own modern, western understanding of the word “heart,” like Brittney Spears singing, “Oops I did it again, I played with your heart, got lost in the game…” or Celine Dion crooning, “Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on” (conveying an essentially emotional function), for the ancient Israelite community the heart involved an all-encompassing sense of ‘totality’ in thought and action.[3] The metaphor of “heart” characterized people as “moral agents responsible for what they make of themselves through their exercise or neglect” of their human abilities.[4] But for God’s law to be written on the hearts of the people entails neither strictly one’s emotional obligation to God through which one could feel joy, nor only the application of one’s moral and cognitive reasoning abilities; it requires additionally the commitment of obedience on the part of one’s entire being (5:28). For God’s law to be written upon our hearts would therefore involve a lifelong commitment allowing us to innately (as children) think, feel, live, breathe, and act according to the will and instructions of God. The divine promise made here is that one day we—that is, all of us, from the least to the greatest—will experience an all-encompassing, comprehensive knowledge of God’s will for humanity as well as for all of creation. [PAUSE] And why would God want us to undergo such a transformation?

Repeatedly throughout the book, Jeremiah receives the divine Word of a discontented God full of anguish over the people’s lack of understanding. “They do not know me…They have no understanding.” According to this prophetic word God longs to be in a deeply intimate relationship with the people—a relationship that involves a human capability to understand, to perceive and to have insight into God’s presence and God’s will. The book of Jeremiah helps clarify that that which is understood by the community to be God’s wrath and dismay are rooted in the human inability to understand and be perceptive in interpreting God’s law. We just don’t understand! From this we may then sense that the true way to divine knowledge involves the internalization of God’s law, which would then allow us to understand and be more acutely perceptive to the divine plan for creation. While both of today’s Scripture readings point to the importance of divine law, the overarching message aims to alert us to God’s desire for us. And the prophetic word is delivered in the form of a sense of hope:

Behold! The days are coming when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah—not like the old covenant I made with their ancestors, which they broke. I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. They shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest! I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.

For Jeremiah’s community, this word of hope assured the people that the nation of Israel would survive the time of exile. This sense of hope also pertains to the people’s understanding of covenant insofar as assuring them that in spite of divine wrath, God’s love is eternal; if the old covenant does not appear to be functioning properly, then God vows to create a new covenant for the sake of the relationship with God’s people. God is willing to redefine the covenant and implement it in a new and different way; such is God’s appreciation for intimacy, knowledge and commitment. And such is God’s love for humanity. The word of hope emphasizes God’s interest in improving relations with humanity, and at times it is this very concept of which I need to be reminded. Amidst those periods of time when God seems curiously absent, I need to know that perhaps it is only my own distorted human vision that perceives God as being absent when in fact God is very present and is striving to improve my spiritual acuity. If I grow distraught by either personal or global events and question where God is in all of this, I need to be mindful that perhaps God is not in the fierce winds or the earthquake or fire, but that God is in the still small voice that is whispered after the chaos (I Kings 19:11-13). [PAUSE]

I long to know God intimately, as though the divine will were itself written upon my heart and permeated my mind. I long to pull away from the conflicts and arguments of our society in order to hear that still small voice within—the “sound of the genuine,” in the words of Howard Thurman. I find it odd that this voice seems so clear and distinct throughout childhood, almost nestled in life’s purity, nurtured by it. Yet grows ever distorted and full of static interference as one ages. I attribute this static to our varying human interpretations of the Law. That is the state of humanity, of our difficulty not only with interpreting socially constructed laws but also—and perhaps more importantly—God’s Law, God’s will and desire for us. I perceive that desire to be one of intimacy, one where God is forever at the core of our being, our thought process, our actions, words, and deeds. Perhaps that is why Jesus said we must change and become like little children. God promises that one day we will understand God in God’s fullness and glory and mystery. And what’s more, God is willing to review the terms of the old covenant, reflect upon how capable or incapable we are at maintaining those terms, and create a new covenant with us. God does not desire to be involved in a covenant that is capable of being broken, but instead seeks a relationship of fidelity where the people are always conscious of God, ever mindful, never forgetful. God loves us with an everlasting love, and forgives disobedience for the sake of being in relationship with us. This Scripture text almost seems to point directly to our own Church congregation, through its long, rich history of struggle, ability to confront and discuss new considerations, embark upon new journeys while continuing to nurture other paths upon which we have tread for years. This church understands the need for keeping history alive while also fostering new relationships with other church communities. Your endeavors to reconsider the tenets of your covenant, your openness and willingness to create a new covenant, and your commitment to the continual remembrance of this process seems to be the very Word of God conveyed in this Jeremianic passage. And through conscious efforts we open ourselves to allow the Spirit of the Living God to fall ever-afresh on us.

So what does it mean when God expresses discontentment over the activities of the world? What does it mean when God conveys to a prophet a word of hope for the future because the present world just doesn’t seem to know God or to understand God’s will? If these questions are integrally linked—and I believe they are—then God’s discontentment arises from our own human inability to know God intimately and innately, as God longs to be known. God offers hope to us because God takes seriously the relationship with humanity, as with all of God’s creation. And if a new covenant is required in order to offer sustenance to the human-divine relationship, then God is willing to write one—not one reminiscent of the old one which we are all prone to break, but one so loving and mysterious, so incomprehensible, so deeply embedded in our hearts, souls and minds that it will be truly impossible for us to break it.

Oh, Omniscient God, You search our hearts. You know us. Even before a word is on our tongues, You know it completely. How can we attain such wonderful knowledge? Eternal God, You abide with us throughout the ages. Let Your Holy Spirit fall afresh on us. Let us know Your ways. Teach us Your paths. May Your will and Your law be known and understood by all of us, from the least to the greatest. (Psalms 25; 139; Jer 31:33-34)

[1] McKane, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah, Volume II, cxxxiii-clxxiv.

[2] Walter Brueggemann, Reverberations of Faith: A Theological Handbook of Old Testament Themes (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), 39.

[3] Johannes Pedersen coined the term ‘totality’ in: Johannes Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture, trans. Aslang Moller (London: OUP, 1926), 110.