Jeremiah
31:31-34; 32:1-8
“A Ridiculous
Investment”
I was listening to NPR Tuesday when the
news of the earthquake in Mexico
was reported. Because it occurred in a
sparsely populated area it will probably not receive the publicity of some of
our more recent catastrophes but it continues to remind us of how fragile and
unpredictable our universe is. In light
of our text this morning, it reminded me of an earthquake in Lisbon on All Saints Day in 1755. This event devastated the Portuguese capital,
killing thousands, sparking a debate throughout Europe
on God’s role in natural and manmade disasters.
At the time Lisbon was a religious center
second only to Rome
in importance. The fact that the event happened on All Saints Day was seen as blasphemous. The earthquake spurred a conversation asking
questions about the role of God in the life of God’s creation. The two questions which caused the most alarm
continue to be raised in conversations today. First, why does God allow such devastation to
ruin God’s good creation? The second,
and I believe more difficult is, why doesn’t God intervene, preventing the
slaughter of the innocent?
For anyone who would like to read about
the history of this debate I would recommend a work recently published by Tom
Long titled What Shall We Say; Evil,
Suffering and the Crisis of Faith?
If you are looking for easy answers to this on-going debate, I warn you
that Long’s conclusions may not be satisfactory. I am not sure there is an answer that fully
explains suffering, evil and God’s place in this complicated equation. But the text that we have this morning pushes
us back into the conversation and then leaves us with an answer that is either
an extraordinary example of Godly reliance or absolute foolishness. It is amazing how often faith is described as
both.
The Book of Jeremiah is reflective of
and responsive to the historical crisis of the last days of Judah, culminating in the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple
in 587 B.C.E. This crisis is the
dominant event in the Old Testament.
Much of Old Testament theology was shaped by this episode and the exile
which followed. In this midst of this crisis resides the
bigger than life personality of Jeremiah.
Historically we can not determine if the prophet represents one or many
voices, but we can be sure that the theological premise that drives this book
is the concept of covenant. Israel’s
covenant with Yahweh is rooted in the memories and mandates of the Sinai
tradition. Simply put the covenant
stated, “I will be your God and you will be my people.” It was a contract based on the sovereignty of
God and the expected obedience of Israel. In simple terms, compliance to the law
resulted in rewards. Disobedience
resulted in heavy sanctions leading to death or displacement.
Therefore, in light of covenant
theology, when the armies of Babylon camped
outside the walls of Jerusalem, Jeremiah, while
not denying the power of Nebuchadnezzar, believed the presence of Babylon was incorporated
into the intention of Yahweh. Because Jerusalem hadd sinned and
ignored the covenant, the results would be destruction and exile.
I think we are all familiar with cause
and effect theology. We act, God
reacts. We sin, we are punished. In truth it is a bit simplistic yet this
thought pattern still prevails. I
remember a couple of years ago Pat Roberson responded to the earthquake in
Haiti by proclaiming God was punishing Haiti for pacts it made with the devil
400 years ago. Robertson was referring
to the emergence of what we now call voodoo as an expression of religious
belief. When Robertson made that statement I figured he must have been smoking
something a bit illegal. Now that he has
publicly endorsed marijuana I guess he was.
But I digress. There is a second,
more complicated theological issue which strongly emerges from this book. It is the pathos of God. Despite the stubbornness and defiance of Judah,
God can not give up on this
relationship. When I read Jeremiah 31 I
am reminded of Hosea 11. It depicts God
as a loving and patient parent trying to deal with a disobedient child. “When Israel was a child I loved
him. I called him out of Egypt. But the more I called to him the more Israel went
from me. Yet it was I who taught Israel how to
walk. It was I who took him in my
arms. It was I who lifted Israel to my
cheek. It was I who fed him. How can I
give you up, O Israel? How can I hand
him over? My heart recoils within me, my
compassion grows warm and tender.”
Anyone here raise the perfect
child? Anyone here have a moment as a
parent when you wanted to throw your hands up in utter defeat? We set the parameters and we expected those
rules to be observed. We carefully
explained our reasoning and lovingly did all the right things. We read Green
Eggs and Ham; we rocked them to sleep listening to Dylan or the Grateful
Dead; we fed them apples, bananas and green beans; we even made sure their
shirts and pants always matched. Then
one day we noticed little Adam and little Eve were next door climbing in the
neighbor’s tree and talking to a snake.
Where did we go wrong? What
should we have done differently? What do
we do next? Truth is, we never gave up
on them, because we had taught them how to walk.
Is God beyond those same feeling that we
have as parents? Not according to
Jeremiah. And that puts God in that
awful place between a rock and a hard spot.
The covenant was to be obeyed and disobedience resulted in punishment. And yet the God we find in the pages of
Jeremiah and Hosea, this God that spills into Second Isaiah and Jonah, this God
that dominates the Psalm, this God that explodes into the gospels, this God of
compassion and mercy and grace loves us like a mother and a father and
everything in between. This tension
between the covenant sanctions and the pathos of our creator exposes a passion,
an ambiguity, even an absurdity we expect to find in parents but not in our
God. I hope that last sentence bothers some of you because it bothers me to
make such a statement. Rules are rules,
break the rules and the consequences are understood, especially when relating
to a covenant with God. And yet this
God, this Yahweh, this Father of the one we call Jesus, disrupts the eternal
sanctions of the covenant by promising that God will restore the unhealthy relationship.
I love the words we find in Jeremiah 31. God will no longer write the words in
stone. God will write the words upon our
heart. The covenant now will not just be
with a chosen people. It will be with
each one of us. Furthermore the broken
covenant will be renewed and the relationship between God and God’s people will
be once again be restored. Of course
there is a small catch. This renewal
will not happen immediately. Jerusalem would be
demolished. The Jews would be hauled off
to Babylon where
they stayed for a generation. But
Jeremiah was promised that one day, the children of Israel would come home; one
day, the city would be repaired; one day, the Temple would be rebuilt;, one
day, the covenant relationship would be restored; one day, God would walk among
God’s people; one day, maybe not this day, but one day soon.
How does one react to such a
promise? How does one make a symbolic
gesture to show that even in the midst of defeat, even in the midst of slavery,
in the midst of death, even in the midst of unrepentant sin, God has a plan.
Jeremiah went out and bought a piece of
land. Let’s understand the complete
significance of this. Jerusalem was about to burned to the
ground. Jeremiah knew this. The warring tendencies of the Babylonians
have been well documented. Basically
they carried off a segment of the population into slavery and killed the
rest. They burned anything made of wood
and dismantled the rest. Everything of value was seized or destroyed. Jeremiah
knew this. He knew chances are he would
not live to see his next birthday. And
yet he bought a piece of land. What are
we to make of this? Walter Brueggemann
calls this a case study in fidelity.
Jeremiah believed that God will always be faithful to God’s word. If God promises restoration there will be
restoration. Therefore in an act that
some would celebrate as unprecedented faith, an act others would declare as
madness, Jeremiah purchased a piece of land everyone knew would be worthless
with in hours.
What does that say about Jeremiah? What does that say about God? What does this say about us? How much of our time is spent between the
impending doom of death and the promise of life. I think this is a critical question that we
should grapple with each time we move toward Holy Week. I suspect everyone here understands the pain
of Good Friday. I am not talking about
the death of Jesus. I am speaking about
those moments of personal injury or impending illness. I am talking about those sudden catastrophes
when your life is taken from your control.
I am talking about failed relationship,
the death of a dream, the end of hope.
We understand Good Friday.
On the other hand we have celebrated the
joy of Easter. Again I am not referring
directly to the resurrection of Jesus. We
have witnessed days of liberation from that which enslaves us. We have received doctor’s reports that
announce miracles where none seemed possible.
Deb and I have two grandchildren by methods that were science fiction a
generation ago. We know the joy of
Easter.
But we live most of our lives as if it
were Saturday. We live between suffering/uncertainty
and the dream of liberation/ rebirth. We
live most of our lives waiting… on God, waiting.. on each other, waiting.. on
Easter. It is in the Saturday time,
between the calamities that befall us and the possibilities before us that we
are asked to remember the covenant written on our heart that states, somehow,
perhaps in ways that we might never understand, God will restore that which has
been broken. We are asked to buy a piece
of land in Madrid, or Mexico. We are asked to invest in lives that are
broken and seem beyond restoration. We
are asked to have faith where no faith seems warranted, and offer hope where no
hope seems possible. We live in the
shadow of the cross, there is no denying this.
But we also live in a time when even the cross gives way to life. How do I prove this? I can’t.
But I continue to believe, despite everything I might encounter, despite
anything I might be told, despite all my questions, despite all doubts, despite
everything that tells me otherwise, God is faithful…...and that…… despite all
else…… is sufficient.
To
God be the glory, Amen.
Amen.
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