Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 5, 2008
Exodus 20: 1-4, 7-9
The Gift of the Law
Preachers love stories. So do Rabbis. Thomas Friedman, who writes for the New York Times, was at Rosh Hashanah services last Tuesday when his rabbi told this story:
A frail 80-year-old mother is celebrating her birthday and her three sons each give her a present. Harry gives her a new house. Harvey gives her a new car and driver. And Bernie gives her a huge parrot that can recite the entire Torah.
A week later, she calls her three sons together and says: "Harry, thanks for the nice house, but I only live in one room. Harvey, thanks for the nice car, but I can’t stand the driver. Bernie, thanks for giving your mother something she could really enjoy. That chicken was delicious."
We don’t always appreciate what we’re given. I suspect that is true of one of God’s most precious gifts to us – the gift of law, enumerated in the Ten Commandments. O sure, we read the Decalogue from time to time. We give it lip service. We even carve the commandments in granite and put them in the lobby of the courthouse – provided a higher court lets us get away with it. But do we know what they are – and if we do, does it make a difference?
Zachary Anderson is being baptized today. He’s only three right now, but he’ll grow. If we want him to grow, like Jesus, in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and humans, we should teach him about the Ten Commandments.
Our guide in this matter is John Calvin, Zachary’s great, great, many-times-great grandfather in the faith. Calvin lived in the 16th century and did most of his work in Geneva, Switzerland. I will not employ Calvin’s method. He thought nothing of preaching sermons lasting more than a hour. I will use his insights. Calvin taught that the law serves three uses.
We should teach Zachary that the law convicts us, causes us to be honest before God and one another about who we are and how far short we fall of God’s best hopes for us. Calvin called this the first use of the law.
Let’s be honest, Calvin said. Nobody obeys all Ten Commandments – not perfectly, not consistently. We might manage for a day or two not to covet, but it’s almost impossible to live in a capitalist society without succumbing to greed. We might be technically innocent of adultery, but, as Jesus pointed out, adultery committed in the heart is another matter altogether. We might say we have no sin, but the law tells us otherwise. We’re sinners – all of us. The law holds a mirror before us to remind us of that truth.
It’s only after we admit who we are that we can acknowledge our need for God’s mercy. It’s only after we realize that we hold no bargaining chips when we come before the Holy One that we are ready to receive God’s free gift of grace in Jesus Christ.
As Zachary grows, we need to teach him that his is precious in God’s sight, that he is the apple of God’s eye. We also need to teach him what to do when he breaks God’s heart, as he most surely will. That’s what human beings living in a fallen world do to the God who loves then The law keeps us honest before God. That’s the first use of the law.
The second use of the law, we should teach Zachary, is to keep wrong-doers in check. Calvin called this the usus politicus, or the usus civilis – the political or civil use of the law. Calvin thought that the law restrains antisocial impulses. Even if people don’t believe in God, he thought, they will obey the law out of fear of punishment. Without the constraint of law, social order would disintegrate.
If the first use of the law is a mirror, the second use of the law is a club. Now, Calvin was not a modern democrat. He had no problem calling on the civil magistrate to enforce what you and I would now regard as religious regulations. In 1547, a man was arrested for leaving one of Calvin’s sermons early and making too much noise in the process. (Those were the days.)
On the other hand, Grandpa Calvin was not a tyrant. In Calvin’s Geneva, the taverns continued to serve alcohol. He tried to introduce prayers and psalm-singing in the taverns as well, but that turned out to be very bad for business.
Surely Calvin was right about this much: we need the law to curb bad behavior. Look at the economic crisis we’re in right now. Bankers, no less than burglars, need laws to hold them in check. If, after the past few weeks, you still believe in "self-regulation," I’ve got a bridge to nowhere to sell you.
So, Zachary, the second use of the law is to provide unpleasant consequences for those who would lie, cheat, steal, kill, exploit, and otherwise harm their neighbors. Whether people believe in God or not, they have to obey the law. At least, that’s what Grandpa Calvin thought.
And now we come to Calvin’s third use of the law. This applies only to those in whom the Holy Spirit is present and active. Calvin taught the Spirit inscribes the law upon our hearts, so that, instead of fearing the law, we delight in doing the law because it pleases God. This is the principal use of the law – the law as guide for living the Christian life. The Spirit uses the law to correct and to encourage, bringing us ever closer into alignment with God’s will.
Grandpa Calvin, we must remind Zachary, was a great theologian, but at times a very unpopular politician. Early in 1539 he was banished from Geneva for his strict views on church discipline. (You can be sure the tavern keepers were glad to see him go.) His friend Martin Bucer invited him to become the pastor of a small congregation of French refugees in the city of Strasburg.
It was while he was in Strasburg that Calvin made a little change in the order of worship in his church. Instead of singing the Gloria or a psalm right after the Declaration of Pardon (as is our custom) Calvin had the congregation sing the Decalogue. We’ll have to remind Zachary that that is exactly what we did this morning, in honor of Grandpa Calvin and Zachary’s baptism.
Calvin knew that worship shapes people in essential ways. He could have put the Decalogue before the confession of sin in the order of service. That would have been the first use of the law. I suppose he could have asked the judges of Strasburg to display the Decalogue prominently in the courthouse. That would have been the second use of the law. Instead he chose to sing the Commandments right after the assurance that, in Jesus Christ, we are a forgiven people, living by grace, and guided by the law.
That made good liturgical sense in 1539. It’s not a bad idea, even today. Perhaps, if we said or sang the Ten Commandments more often, we’d know what they are, and we’d be more likely to be guided by them.
As Zachary grows into his baptism, he’ll need to grasp three big ideas: guilt, grace, and gratitude. Like the sacraments themselves, the law is a gift to God’s grateful people.
If you think that’s more than Zachary can take in at age three, don’t worry. This is just the beginning. If you and I are faithful to our vows in this sacrament, he’ll learn more as he goes along.
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