The Law of the Lord

Exodus 16-24

Matthew 1-7

Some years ago, a young man came to my office looking for a new church. We talked for a while and I learned the story of his struggle with alcohol addiction. He was already active in an AA group but he believed a church community might also help turn his life around.  I called the pastor at a nearby community church to find out more about their recovery program and it sounded like a good fit for this man who was living life on survival mode. We stayed in touch for several months and he seemed to be doing well. I sometimes wonder how he is doing now. 

Sometimes some people need rules, structure, clear definitions. This makes sense to us when we are raising our children; independence and healthy self-sufficiency can only come through a process of growing through stages and practicing living within some kind of protective environment. This makes sense to us when we remember our own journey toward maturity.

Sometimes we refer to the people of Moses as “the children of Israel.” The term "children" isn't meant to be used as a contrast to the concept of "adult;" it's mostly the King James Version's way to describe this people's family tree and identify them as the descendants of Jacob. But maybe - in another way - "children" can also serve as a kind of archetypical description of humanity's development in all of our various cultures and societies over the ages. Without thinking of Israel as any more “childish” than any of the rest of us, consider how their story as chronicled in the Hebrew Scriptures might give insight to how all of us - individuals as well as societies - grow through stages toward healthy maturity.

In the remarkable story of exodus and deliverance in the second book of the Hebrew Scriptures, the people emerge from the confining womb of slavery, through the birth waters of the Red Sea and into the wilderness. There is manna here, and clean water, and even fresh meat provided for the complaining, sullen people. Again and again, they test the patience of Moses; they test the faithfulness of the God who Calls, who Saves, who Provides.

As the story unfolds, God calls Moses up to the mountaintop where he is immersed in fire and cloud and sapphired glory for forty days and forty nights. And when he returns to the camp in the valley, Moses comes with the Ten Commandments which summarize for the people all the Law that teaches how to live in relationship with God and with one another.

Of course there is other law in the pages of the Torah as well, not just the moral code. The Mosaic Law also details the particulars of worship, ceremonial law that includes rules for the priesthood and for the sacrificial system. But fundamentally, the Law from Sinai teaches the fledgling people of Israel how to be in relationship, how to behave toward one another with fairness and justice. It is law grounded in a specific culture, time and place. It is law contingent on the particular circumstances of a particular people in a particular day and age.

It’s interesting to read The Gospel according to Matthew alongside the book of the Exodus. Matthew is our most Jewish gospel and throughout, we see comparisons and contrasts between Jesus and Moses.

·      The Pharaoh in Egypt and the King in Jerusalem kill the male infants who may threaten their power.

·      “Out of Egypt I have called my son…” Matthew says of Jesus - while in the background he clearly sees Israel escaping danger and persecution.

·      Jesus is baptized in the Jordan River, passing through the waters and then entering into the wilderness where he too is tempted to test God.

·      But again and again, unlike God’s other “child” Israel (or any of the rest of us sons and daughters!), Jesus is the one who faithfully and persistently submits himself to the God who Calls, who Saves and who Provides.

And then Matthew offers an especially fascinating comparison between the Law of Moses delivered from Mount Sinai and the Sermon on the Mount delivered by Jesus.

“You have heard it said…But I say…”

Matthew’s Jesus is bold to re-read the ancient Law and re-interpret its meaning and significance for the people of Israel in a new day. Jesus does not contradict or critique the Law; rather he goes deeper, he goes to the root - the radix. Radix is the word from which we get the word “radical” and in these six antitheses (or better “hyper-theses”), Jesus radicalizes the Law.

Rules done right point beyond superficial behavior to attitude, perspective, mindset. Rules done right remind what is core and fundamental. It’s not just about adultery or murder or divorce, Jesus says; it’s about respecting relationship and honoring commitments. It’s not just about how you treat your friends, Jesus says; it’s about living together in humility and integrity (even with your enemies!) in the upside down right side up inside out kingdom of heaven.

Of course faithful, pious Jews already knew this. The prophets especially understood the root of Israel’s problem and boldly called for repentance-turning-returning to the heart of the matter. Ancient wisdom did not originate with Jesus when he summarized his sermon: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 7:12)

But people are people, and in every age most people tend towards superficiality; it’s much more comfortable. Bright lines and check lists may make us feel safe, but they also keep us small. Well-defined guidelines and clear parameters work well for children, but growing up requires self-discipline and complex wisdom.

Besides radicalizing the Law, Matthew’s Jesus does something else, something key to Matthew’s own Christology: Jesus speaks for God.

In Matthew’s understanding, the Law is foundational but it is not ultimate. For Matthew, it is the one to whom the law and the prophets point – the Messiah, the Christ – who embodies the ultimate, definitive will of God.  It is in Jesus Christ that the Law is both affirmed and fulfilled. It is in Jesus Christ that the Law is both validated and transcended. It is Jesus Christ who is the final authority. And – for Matthew – the Spirit of the Risen Christ is still speaking, teaching and leading the Church.

This is Matthew’s way. 

The apostle Paul has his own way of understanding the significance of the Christ Event and the subsequent transition from the requirements of law to the freedoms and responsibility of grace. Reading between Matthew and Paul, it is clear there was some tension among the New Testament theologians about how best to re-read and re-interpret their own Scriptures. The New Testament writers were all faithful Jews who honored their tradition and grounded their lives in the Mosaic Law so it was with deep prayer and care that they pondered new understandings of the Law in light of the Christ. Even so, as faithful and conscientious as they were, they inevitably saw some things differently and so the Christian churches they planted emerged with different understandings, traditions and practices. (This is very much like our own experience of diversity within the Christian tradition of our own day.)

In the ancient wisdom literature, Psalm 19 sings a song of praise:

The law of the Lord is perfect,

            reviving the soul;

the decrees of the Lord are sure,

            making wise the simple;

the precepts of the Lord are right,

            rejoicing the heart;

the commandment of the Lord is clear,

            enlightening the eyes;

the fear of the Lord is pure,

            enduring forever;

the ordinances of the Lord are true

            and righteous altogether.

I can see the Psalmist honoring the Law of Moses in these beautiful words. But I see more. Before there was the Torah, there was the cosmos. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…And God said, “It is good.”

Creator’s law, decrees, commandments, ordinances that structure the universe are knitted into the fabric of the world. Creator’s will and way that give order and meaning to everything that exists are part of nature’s DNA.

The Psalmist begins his praise with this affirmation:

The heavens are telling the glory of God;

            and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.

Day to day pours forth speech,

            and night to night declares knowledge.

There is no speech, nor are there words;

            their voice is not heard;

And yet their voice goes out through all the earth,

            and their words to the end of the world.

Here is scriptural acknowledgment and celebration of God’s law of the universe, God’s way in the cosmos, God’s will for creation.

The Mosaic Law flowed from that cosmic law and articulated justice and equity that was probably unusual for its time, but it was always law contingent upon its time and place and people. The newly formed people of Israel who received the Law at Mount Sinai continued to grow in their understandings.  In later commentary and reflection, the Prophets dug deeper into the meaning and significance of the Law. And then in another theological stream, the writers of the Wisdom tradition pondered relationship with God and one another in other profound ways. Growing awareness and deepening maturity always will lead us away from “either-or” and into “both-and” contemplations.

Much as my AA friend needed structure and clear definitions for a time, much as our children need rules and limits while they are learning how to live, so all of us have periodically benefited from the protective environment of law as we have grown through stages into greater maturity. As we continue to grow in our relationship with God and with one another, we grow into grace.

The life and work of Christ has fulfilled the Law of Moses and now brought all humanity within the law-way-will of God that is right for all people in all times and places. I think of it as a way of Shalom: peace and wholeness, unity and harmony. When this law is written in our hearts, there is shalom with God and shalom with one another.

The law and the prophets pointed us to this Way: No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more (Jeremiah 31:34).

The Spirit of the Risen Christ leads us in this Way.

Change of Mind, Change of Heart: Moving Away from Fundamentalism

         “If I change my mind, then I’d have to admit I’ve been wrong."
He was a good man: sweet, humble and kind. He had lived for more than 80 years and had a gentle wisdom about him. So when my friend made this statement, my jaw dropped. How on earth can anyone think that way? I marveled.
              But then I remembered – that used to be me.  
I used to believe that “Right” and “Wrong” were Black and White; that if I was right, and you disagreed with me, then you must be wrong. Now I believe all of us are probably mostly a little bit right and a whole lot wrong – about a whole lot of things. 
I used to believe truth was a small fragile thing that needed to be defended. Now I believe Truth is a rainbow with infinite colors and facets that takes a lifetime to explore. Truth doesn’t need to be defended; it needs to be discovered. 
I used to believe being wrong would have dire (even eternal) consequences. Now I believe being wrong is just one more way to learn; one more way to recognize how incomplete understanding inevitably must be for any of us mortals; one more way to keep me humble. I used to believe women couldn’t/shouldn’t/better not be preachers. Now (I do believe!) I am one.

I’m a bit like Dorothy, stepping out of her small black and white existence into a bright Technicolor world. And like Dorothy, it took a tornado to get me here.

Change is a fact of life. They say our cells die off and regenerate at an astonishing rate. Scientists suggest that almost all the cells in our body are completely replaced about every 7-10 years. We go about our business and don’t even recognize how radically, how quickly our body is changing every day of our lives.
But in other ways, change is disorienting, intimidating, frightening. Changing deeply held beliefs; changing long entrenched habits; changing fundamental assumptions … either we choose this path of intentional growth. Or sometimes life will force us into it.

For me, Dorothy’s tornado was seminary. I never imagined such a wide rainbow world existed and I was challenged to explore ideas that made me absolutely uncomfortable. I was challenged to uncover my embedded, unexamined assumptions and expose them to the light of critical thinking. I was challenged to test my theories of understanding according to standards of coherence: if I say I believe A and B, then those different things still must be compatible with each other. Even paradoxical thinking has a core consistency about it. It was hard, exhausting work.

I felt like the kid in the Far Side cartoon sitting in a classroom, raising his hand and asking permission to go. “May I be excused? My brain is full.”

But it was this hard work of changing my mind that led me to a change of heart as well. In order to be consistent in my beliefs, I had to pay attention to how I lived out the convictions of my life. I had to be intentional about how I acted in real time and real space with real people.

I used to believe people are responsible for their own actions.

Now I believe – in addition to personal responsibility –all of us in this society are responsible for one another. 

I used to believe Jesus’ call to “love our neighbor” and to “do unto others” applied only to individuals. Now I believe – in addition to private charity – all of us in this society must create public policies that cultivate an environment where all people can thrive.
I used to believe everyone has the freedom to choose their own way. Now I believe many people, maybe most people on the planet are born into circumstances and raised in situations that severely limit their choices.
I used to believe our civil governments had the right to impose morality on its citizens. Now I believe the core ethics that should under gird our civil laws must be the moral foundation originally set forth in our Constitution: unity, justice, safety, well being and liberty. It is these values that should shape our laws, not the private morality of any religion or any group of people.
Changing my mind brought about a change of heart which in turn led to a change of my political, cultural and social commitments.

It started with a tornado which turned my thinking upside down and right side up. It has continued slowly and persistently as I have grown. Like an acorn with a hard shell, I needed to let go of my rigid limits and my small world before I could push through the dark soil and reach for the sun. I am not the same person I was a year ago. A year from now, I hope I will not be the same person I am today.

My friend had trouble admitting he could be wrong. I know many good, kind-hearted people who share that black and white space with him. But that doesn’t work for me anymore. 
For me, these days, it feels pretty good to admit I’m wrong, that I don’t know everything, that I have a lot to learn. It keeps me humble. And it feels very good to live in this wide, rainbow, Technicolor world.

I could never go back.

Charlotte Vaughan Coyle is an ordained minister within the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and doctoral student at Brite Divinity School.

Forgive and Forget? I Don't Think So

Genesis 37-50

Galatians

Mark 8-10

  

I don’t know if it’s because of the popular musical or because of Sunday School stories long ago, but it seems like a lot of people know at least a little bit about the story of Joseph. Maybe it’s his Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. 

Maybe it’s all the bad things that kept happening to this really nice person: the betrayal by his jealous, callous brothers; slavery in the far away land of Egypt; betrayal again, injustice, prison, hopelessness… How these numerous wrongs must have festered in those long dark nights of Joseph’s suffering!

But then – by a series of odd circumstances - Joseph comes into the favor of the king and is raised to unimaginable prestige and power in his “adopted” land of Egypt. This is great story telling: a strong lead character who faces multiple challenges to his deep moral core; a panoply of interesting villains; unlikely plot twists; Technicolor dreams, poetic justice, reconciliation and a happy-ever-after-ending.

But one thing that comes to mind when I read Joseph’s story is: how on earth was he able to forgive such injustice and betrayal?

If you have ever been hurt deeply, you know it is not easy to forgive. And you know it may not happen quickly. Forgiveness is a process; it must be engaged with intention and attention. In order to truly forgive, we must begin with the willingness to even want to enter into the process of forgiveness. We first have to be willing to want to forgive before we can hope to make it to the actual act of forgiveness. And it helps to enter the process of forgiveness keenly aware of how very badly we need to forgive; how forgiveness is as much for us as it is for the other person.

You have heard the old saw: “forgive and forget” but I will argue that is not only impossible, it is also unwise. God may be able to forgive and forget but that’s not usually how it works for us humans. Experiences that have been seared into our souls leave indelible marks that change us in deep ways, and because we are human, those events stay with us; some things we just cannot forget. Besides, I think there is something biblical and wise about remembering: remembering who we are and where we come from and what we’ve learned along the way. I believe a key part of faithful and wise living is our remembering – remembering even past hurts.

For one thing, remembering honors the pain we have borne. We don’t dismiss it and downplay it because betrayal hurts and the remembering of it acknowledges how damaging and deadly sin can be. When we remember, we do not stuff our feelings or dismiss that hurt. Rather we honor the significance of the wrong that has been done to us. We grieve the damage done to relationship; we grieve the loss of trust. We don't say it's okay, that it doesn't matter, because it does matter. It matters to us. It matters to the health and to the witness of the entire community. It matters to God.

For another thing, in our remembering we hold each other accountable to right behavior and Christ like living. We don’t make excuses for people who have hurt or harmed someone else; we don’t let them off the hook. Destructive behaviors need to be exposed and confronted. Healing happens in the light; toxic festering is what happens in the darkness of denial.

Have you ever been hurt by a minister? Me too. Have you ever been hurt by Christians? Me too. Have you ever hurt someone else and broken faith with another who trusted you? Me too. Right remembering not only recollects the wrongs done to me, it also remembers how easy it is for me to inflict hurt on others. Right remembering makes us wise and keeps us humble.
          There is something especially damaging when a community of faith breaks faith. Countless people have experienced tragic betrayal by the Church. Countless people have been alienated from Christ’s work of love and reconciliation because the body of Christ has too often lived in antithesis to reconciliation. We Christians have much to answer for.

            But unforgiveness also is something we must answer for. Some years ago, someone hurt me and that hurt changed me. Sunday after Sunday I would pray the prayer: “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us,” but I had no clue how to forgive this deep wound; how to let go of this painful past. I was so badly curved in upon myself, I was not even willing to start to begin to try to embark upon the process of forgiveness. (“the Self turned in on itself.” Martin Luther’s understanding)

For a long time, I held on to the hurt like dragon’s treasure. I was closed off and pulled in. What I didn’t realize is that - not only did I need to forgive - I really needed to repent. 

Forgiveness and repentance are two sides of a coin. In repentance, we name the ways we hold on to bitterness or anger; the ways we participate in gossip or slander. We acknowledge how easily we tend to become a self curved in on itself; we admit how hard it is for us to bend our lives toward the One who creates and calls us.

In repentance, we own up and name our failings honestly – to God, to ourselves, and to at least one other human being. And then – having entered into repentance – we are empowered to enter into forgiveness. Having emptied ourselves of ourselves as best we are able, only then are we able to be filled up with that which is God’s – amazing grace, profligate mercy and unfailing love.

Love is the key here.

Listen to this wonderful little poem by Derek Trasker:

I wonder what would happen if

  I treated everyone

    like I was in love with them,

whether I like them or not

and whether they respond or not and no matter

what they say or do to me and even if I see

things in them which are ugly twisted petty

cruel vain deceitful indifferent,

just accept all that and turn my attention to some small

weak tender hidden part and keep my eyes on

that until it shines like a beam of light

like a bonfire I can warm my hands by and trust

it to burn away all the waste which is not

(never was) my business to meddle with.

When I think back and remember the times I have not forgiven well, it is clear to me that I have not loved well.

           

            Paul’s letter to the Galatian church is so profound in so many ways. Paul is preaching a gospel of God’s radical grace that is astounding, unimaginable, unbelievable. So much so, as it turns out, that some fellow Jewish Christians (and even Peter!) pull back from that divine wide-openness. “Yes…But…” Paul’s critics say. There are rules to be followed, rituals to be honored, lines to be toed. And Paul’s famous response is: Love. “The fruit of the Spirit is love…” Paul insists. When Spirit has its way with us, there comes love. When Spirit plants its life in us, there grows love. When Spirit breaks wide open our curved in little Selves, there is amazing grace, profligate mercy and unfailing love.

And what does love look like? What does love act like? Much as he does in that wonderful 13^th chapter of First Corinthians, in Galatians 5, Paul clearly describes love as:

            Joy

Peace

Patience

Kindness

Goodness

Faithfulness

Gentleness

Self-control

So how could it be that one could ever live in this life-giving Spirit and at the same time live in unrepentance or unforgiveness? I don’t think we can. When the wide-openness of God’s Love takes root in our lives, we can’t help but grow towards the wide-openness of Grace. It is the grace we have received that allows us to offer grace to others.

When we have been hurt, wounded or betrayed, it is only forgiveness that will allow us to let go of the past and move into a wide-open future. The one who has hurt us may never know, may not even care that we have forgiven them - but we know. We will know that we are released from the anger, freed from the bitterness, unshackled from the past and changed forever. We may remember the hurt, we may still feel some of the pain, but over riding all that, we remember God’s amazing grace, profligate mercy and unfailing love.

            The happy ever after ending of the Joseph story was possible because he was able to take all the hurt, pain and betrayal of his life and let it be redeemed within the life giving process of forgiveness. Joseph was able to allow grace to absorb and transform everything that was ungracious, unjust and unkind. If he was human, then I’m pretty sure that took time and effort. Forgiveness doesn’t just happen; forgiveness takes attention and intention.

            Even for God, forgiveness requires work - and in the Christian understanding that work was accomplished in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

In the middle chapters of the Gospel of Mark, chapters 8-9-10, we watch the story turn. Once in each of these pivotal chapters, Jesus announces his impending death; in each of these chapters, Jesus promises resurrection. Then the second half of Mark’s story is an extended passion narrative where Jesus takes up his cross and finally – once and for all – accomplishes redemption and reconciliation. We are forgiven.

And so we too are invited to live in this story of forgiveness. We are invited to let Spirit break wide open our closed off, curved in little Selves so that we may become large enough to enter into the hurt, pain and betrayal of the world. We are called to “take up our cross and follow” the Christ, carrying God’s redemption and reconciliation with us wherever we go.

Charlotte Vaughan Coyle 2015