Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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Martin Luther had a recurring dream. In the dream he would be well on his way to heaven, almost to the pearly gates, when Moses would jump out on the path in front of him and block his way. Every time Luther tried to pass, Moses would knock him down. Luther would struggle back to his feet, and try to continue, only to be knocked down again. Finally (in the dream), Luther would come to his senses, and he would say, "I believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ." And Moses would step aside, the gates of heaven would open, and Martin Luther would enter in.

Today's scripture, from II Corinthians, which I just read, is part of a larger section in that letter, a section in which St. Paul struggles to distinguish between the old covenant, which the people of God had received through Moses, and the new covenant which is ours through Jesus Christ. It is a long argument, far too convoluted for most people today. Until we realize that it is not just historical. It is an argument between two ways of life, and those two ways of life exist today, and are in fundamental conflict today, just as surely as they were in Paul's time. It's like this: if we understand our relationship to God (which sets the tone for all our other relationships) to be a legal one, a relationship based on rules about how to live (the Ten Commandments and the like), a relationship of rewards when we are good and punishments when we are bad, we will never see ourselves as pleasing God (Moses will keep knocking us down.), and, what is more, we will poison our relationships with other people by making those relationships a matter of legality. That's the old covenant. It might get us to the gates of heaven, but it will never get us in.

If, on the other hand, we understand our defining relationship (the one with God, the one that affects all other relationships), as being a gracious, loving one, we will find peace with God and (applying the same grace and love) we will find peace with our neighbors, too. That's the new covenant. Jesus said, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood."

Paul reminds the Corinthians that, when Moses came down from Mt. Sinai, his face glowed so brightly (from having been in the presence of the glory of God) that the people asked him to put a veil over his face, so they could look at him. And Paul says, there will always be a veil between us and God if we insist on living life by what we perceive to be "God's rules." That's the old covenant. Paul calls it the covenant of death - because that's where it leads, to every kind of death that we know. In Jesus Christ we have offered to us the covenant of life, based not on rules and rewards and punishments, but rooted in God's amazing love. And those two covenants, those two ways of living and being are as different as night and day.

The story of the Prodigal Son might serve to illustrate the difference. It is often called "the Gospel in miniature." The father does not deal with his bad boy according to the rules, according to what is "right" and "just." That's what ticks off the older brother. The older brother represents the old covenant. On the contrary, the father (who is the hero of the story) represents the new covenant. Think of that story, and think how it might have come out under the old covenant, the covenant of Moses: The father would not be standing out on the road looking for his son, longing for his return, but would understand that a choice had been made. The boy chose to take his inheritance and run, and he wasted it, so he broke the rules and would have to pay the price. When the boy returned, hungry and broke, the father would have said, "Go live with my servants, work and serve me as they do, for (by the rules) you gave up your right to "sonship" when you left. And a rule's a rule. Let's have a party for my good boy, my older son. That's the old covenant.

But that's not what happened. The story as Jesus told it illustrates a new covenant, a new way of God's relating to us, and a new way of us relating to each other. The father (God) loves the boy to the point of foolishness. He grieves his absence, and yearns every day for his return. And, when he does come, all the rules fall away. He gives away the store to this rascal, so glad is he to see him home again. That's the new covenant. My mother always said, "The older brother was right!" She didn't understand the Gospel. Of course he was right, by all the old rules. But the old rules no longer apply in Jesus Christ. "If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creation. Old things are passed away. Behold, all things are new!"

Let's look closely at one of the better-known lines from our scripture lesson, remembering this context of old covenant versus new covenant. Paul says, "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." Under the old covenant we are slaves, under the new covenant we are free. Freedom, for Paul, did not mean a lack of all restraint (as it often means today). Freedom, for Paul, is what liberates us to be what God created us to be. Just the opposite of our notion. We think that freedom to do as we please is restrained by God and by his rules. In other words, if God would leave us alone we could be truly free. That's old covenant thinking, still viewing God as a school marm. Paul says it's just the opposite of that. It is the world that enslaves us, and the new-covenant God who comes to us in love and grace and sets us free. Under the old covenant, we are afraid to live in freedom. In our new relationship with God, and with others, we can live freely and boldly -- as a child in a home, assured of his parents' love, can live freely and boldly - taking risks, making himself vulnerable.

A wonderful Jewish woman I knew some years ago, the wife of a prominent doctor in Baltimore, told me that she and her husband believed in giving money to their grown children, and did so whenever they could. I had never thought about that (probably never had enough money to think about it), but she gave the best reason I had ever heard. She said, "To be successful you have to be able to take risks, and people who have no extra money can never take such risks. For, to them, one mistake means disaster. We want our children to be risk-takers, so we give them some extra money." And I thought about God giving us some "extra love" in Jesus Christ. The new covenant, which would not be measuring and parsimonious like the old, but which would be generous in grace - so that participants in this new covenant could be risk takers, so that they could be confident and bold as they confronted kings and princes, and went to their deaths, for Jesus. Because their salvation was not a "close call." It was not as if, if they committed one sin, they would lose God's love. In the old covenant, there is inescapable condemnation. But, Paul writes, "There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus." The early Christians knew there was an ocean of love and grace between them and damnation, so they were free from crippling anxiety and could be great risk-takers, great heroes. As, indeed, they were.

There is considerable discussion today about "self-esteem," and where it comes from. Some feel it comes from our outside experience, so they seek to build self-esteem by improving people's experiences. For example, since getting a failing grade in school damages one's self-esteem, we will not fail anybody. Others say, "nonsense!" Genuine self-esteem comes only from genuine accomplishment. Getting a passing grade boosts self-esteem if it is truly earned, and only if there was a real possibility of failure. Neither position holds much water. Many people whose life experience has been horrible still manage to like themselves, and many others, who have accomplished marvelous things, don't. Paul would say self-esteem comes from God. It is a gift of the new covenant. Whether we have accomplished little or much, when we examine our "inward parts" (as the Bible says) we all come up wanting. So whatever self-esteem we have, whatever boasting we can do, can come only from the fact that God loves us. Paul, himself, who had accomplished so much, said, "I am determined not to boast, save in the cross of Christ my king." That is where our boast is. In the immeasurable love of God. That is where we feel good about ourselves. All other ground is sinking sand.