When I was a child, my Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Karl took me to see a Broadway musical. It was a very special occasion. We got all dressed up and drove to downtown Houston. We walked into a huge auditorium and were directed to our seats—pretty far back. I could see the stage and hear the music, but I could not see details until Uncle Karl handed me a pair of “opera glasses.” Looking through them, I could see the expressions on the actors’ faces. Experiencing the players as close to me, I was more engaged with the show.
Opera glasses, binoculars, and the zoom lens on our digital cameras help bring the object of our view closer to us, so that we can inspect it and maybe understand it better.
As we have read and pondered the Old Testament scriptures about 3 covenants these Sundays of Lent, I have had this sense of a zoom lens focused on God. With each covenant we studied, the magnification has increased. Four Sundays ago we heard God tell Noah that never again would God destroy the earth. God seemed distant—loving us and creation but removed from us and somewhat intangible—like the rainbow sign of the covenant up there in the sky, the rainbow which we cannot touch and which we can see only from a certain angle. The next Sunday we heard God call Abraham out of his homeland, and lead him on a long journey westward. We heard God promise Abraham and Sarah a child of their own and a continued, long-lasting God/follower relationship between God and Abraham’s descendents for generations to come. Not as far-away as up-there-in-the-sky, but still somewhat distant—like a scout blazing a trail for the rest of the group, God seemed to come closer in that covenant. The next Sunday, we heard God offer the covenant of the law to the newly-freed Hebrew slaves. The stone tablets with the law—the 10 commandments—engraved on them were brought down to the people. Placed in the special Ark of the Covenant, the law traveled with the people as they wandered in the wilderness and crossed over into the Promised Land. With that scripture it was as if we zoomed in a little more—God was no longer way up there or even out in front, but God was among the people.
Today’s text was spoken to God’s people 650 years after the exodus. Much has happened since then. Over the generations, prophets bring indictments against a succession of Hebrew kings, wealthy artisans, and priests. Those in power forget God’s law. They worship other gods and do not take care of the poor, the orphans, or the widows. The priests conduct worship as if it is God who is kept in the “Ark of the Covenant” rather than the stone tablets containing God’s law.
“The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant . . . It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt—a covenant that they broke.” When I took them by the hand—That phrase reminds me . . . When I was a little girl, my Daddy would hold my hand wherever we went. I liked that, and I often initiated the hand-holding—grasping my big, strong, loving Daddy’s hand, connecting with him. But there came a time when I no longer wanted to hold his hand—when I wriggled and squirmed and managed to wrest free from his grip. And what did I do? I saw someone or something familiar across the street, and I stepped off the curb without even looking. I wonder, does this verse reflect God remembering the people as young and uncomprehending children who needed protection. Breaking the law, they wrest free from God’s hand—and forget to look both ways—to look out for their relationship with God and to look out for their relationship with one another. I wonder—do we do that, too?
Jeremiah speaks a prophetic word to a people in despair, a people exiled in Babylon. They are cut off—cut off from their land and cut off from their God. Jeremiah offers words of hope. “Despite all the ways the people have broken faith with God—God will not break faith with them. Instead of . . . judgment, the people receive a lavish promise, unexpected good news. God will bring newness out of destruction . . . God will bring life out of death. God will make a way there is no way.[1]” Prophetic words that ring true to our ears especially now as we draw closer to Holy Week and remember Christ’s Passion.
“The days are surely coming” . . . when God will make a new covenant. I wonder—does a new covenant imply the previous covenants were mistakes? “I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” We’ve heard God speak this phrase before—to Abraham—referring to his descendents; to Moses— referring to the newly-freed Hebrew slaves. I wonder—does the repetition of this phrase suggest a new way of offering the covenant. Regardless of the emphasis—new covenant or new way of being in covenant—does new mean the previous were failures? And does a possible failure imply God is vulnerable—
vulnerable to the destruction of the relationship between creator and created—vulnerable to destruction caused by the created? If so, is God’s vulnerability necessarily a weakness? Is it possible that a vulnerable God is a God with whom we can and will want to draw nearer?
“The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant . . . I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts.” Is that good news? Wouldn’t God’s inscribing the law on our hearts negate our free will? Wouldn’t putting the law within us inhibit our freedom? Maybe not. Perhaps having the “law of love firmly engraved in [our] hearts is an adventure in freedom[2]” giving us permission to act spontaneously. Our actions, after all, reflect what fills our heart. Perhaps having God’s law inscribed in our hearts would give us the freedom to be who we truly are, and to know that is most pleasing to God.[3]
These words from God, through the prophet Jeremiah, are words of hope—not only for 6th century BC exiled Jews but also for us today. “The days are surely coming”... when God will make a new covenant—a covenant of grace. How do we experience that covenant? Through God’s pouring out his love in the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of God’s son—Jesus the Christ. How do we experience that covenant of grace? Through God’s writing his law of love on our hearts—drawing us so near as to be within us and we to be within God’s loving embrace. How do we experience that covenant of grace? Through God forgiving us of all the things we do and say that separate us from God and from one another. Through God forgiving us of all the things we leave unsaid and undone that separate us from God and from one another. Through God forgiving and forgetting. “The days are surely coming” . . . when God will make a new covenant. We, like the exiled Jews, are invited “to stand in grateful awe before the miracle of forgiveness, to receive it, and to take from it a new, regenerated life.[4]”
“The days are surely coming, says the Lord” . . . God has made the new covenant—
the covenant of grace through Jesus the Christ. It is already done. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord . . . 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.” Ahhh, but this is yet to be. For we continue to teach one another—hopefully not in a hierarchical “I know and you don’t” sort of way; hopefully not in a “I am right and you ar wrong” sort of way; hopefully not in a “This is what you should accept and believe and do” sort of way. We continue to teach one another. We worship and read and discuss the Bible together. We share our experiences and reflect on them together. We hold onto one another when we are overcome by darkness and despair. We stay together. We continue to teach one another in these ways. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord”. There is an already and there is a not yet.
This text is like a pair of opera glasses, zooming in on God. God is not far away but very close to us. We can experience an intimate relationship with God. Holding our hands, God will connect with us—heart to heart. We can experience never-ending forgiveness. God makes us new and uses our whole lifetime to transform us. So we are a work in progress. The days are surely coming says the Lord . . . God’s promise gives us hope—hope for now and hope for the future.
[1] Richard Floyd. “Jeremiah 31: 31 – 34: Pastoral Perspective.” Feasting on the Word, Year B. volume 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008. p. 124.)
[2] Woody Bartlett. “Jeremiah 31: 31 – 34: Homiletical Perspective.” Feasting on the Word, Year B. Vol. 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008. p. 125.)
[4] Walter Brueggeman, To Build and To Plant: a commentary on Jeremiah 26 – 52. Grand Rapids: Wm B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1991. p. 73.
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