LIFE-GIVING LAW
A sermon preached by
Rev. Dr. Randle R. (Rick) Mixon
First Baptist Church, Palo Alto, CA
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Texts: Psalm 19
In my memory, the Boise Valley has some of the most incredible sunsets I have ever seen – big sky, dotted with soaring cumulus clouds, painted in yellow, orange, red and purple of every hue, stretched out on a canvas that only God could paint. I also remember a painful August evening when our grief stricken family was driving toward the cemetery where we had recently buried our father. As we came up over a rise in the road, there was one of those incredible sunsets, filling the sky before us, and in that precise moment the radio began to play, “The Heavens Are Telling the Glory of God.” Was is it a coincidence, a totally random juxtaposition of events, just one of those things that happens? Or was it a convergence of heaven and earth, a gift from God, a word of assurance – unspoken, though seen and heard? In our family treasury it is most assuredly among the latter.
My friend, Rob Hopcke, has written a book on the subject of such synchronicity in which he argues that there are no accidents, no coincidences, that such a seemingly random convergence has meaning either because we make it or we discover it in our reflection on events as they come together in our lives. I tend to agree with him. As a person of faith, a child of God, a follower of the Christ, I can sing with some certainty that God has “the whole world in Her hands.”
Another nugget from my memory bank is the thrilling experience of having sung Haydn’s “Creation” with the San Francisco Symphony and Chorus under the baton of Helmut Rilling. When he penned his great oratorio, Haydn clearly understood the intent of the Psalmist. Solo, ensemble, and chorus pour forth the glory of God, beginning with the chaotic rumblings as God steps out into the void and culminating with the exultant affirmation that “The glory of the Lord shall endure forever. Amen! Amen!”
“The Heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament declares his handiwork.” It may seem curious to have such an exultant text for a Lenten Sunday. Many churches put away, even “bury,” their alleluias for the Lenten Season. That is, alleluia is neither spoken or sung in worship throughout Lent’s forty days, with the expectation that they will be all the more glorious when they are brought forth again on Easter morning. So why does the lectionary give us such a celebratory text on the third Sunday of Lent? Part of the answer, I think, is that the ancient hymn of praise with which this Psalm begins is not the entire Psalm nor does it tell the whole story.
Scholars speculate that there may be as many as three Psalms or psalm excerpts that have been cobbled together in Psalm 19. On the surface they seem disconnected. There certainly is not much transitional material. The text moves abruptly from one idea to another – from praise of God in nature to praise of God’s law to prayer for God’s help in right living. Still, on reflection, it appears that the later Psalmist who put this material together did see a deep and significant connection among the elements.
The opening hymn of praise that covers the first six verses is exceptionally beautiful poetry. “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; yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In the heavens he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom from his wedding canopy, and like a strong man runs its course with joy. Its rising is from the end of the heavens, and its circuit to the end of them; and nothing is hid from its heat.” Such eloquent testimony to the power and glory of God is found few other places in scripture. Like the teenager touched by music, sky and grief, like the chorister moved by singing Haydn’s magnificent music, the Psalmist who put these verses together must have been deeply touched by these ancient words that he had heard sung in the temple courts throughout his lifetime. He understood that his life and all life were centered in and held by the Creator of the universe. He could say with the poet, “Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees, takes off his shoes, The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries…” (Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh.)
However, for the Psalmist, this is not an exercise in what might be called “natural theology.” It is not enough to say the evidence of God is so overwhelmingly present in nature that one must believe in the existence of God. As a committed Jew, the Psalmist understands that this great God who has flung the sun and moon and stars in place has also come near to his people, has taken them on as special people and has entered into a covenant with them that should shape their lives and make them “a light to the nations.” For this Psalmist there is the glory of the heavens, yes, but there is also the beauty of the law. Though the smooth transitional sentence is not there between verses six and seven, it is not that difficult to imagine how the Psalmist would have paired the glory of God in creation with the powerful presence of God in the life of his people. It is indeed the great God of the universe who has come near to his people and shared with them that very Word of God to which the heavens can only allude but never fully speak.
Now I imagine that most of us have a somewhat ambiguous relationship to the concept of law. We admire the law that creates order, that sets society’s boundaries, that gives us guidance in dealing with friend and foe. We applaud when Gary Cooper or Harrison Ford gets the bad guy; we’re excited when the forces of good triumph over the forces of evil at the end of the Lord of the Rings. We are glad, or at least feel safer, when murderers and molesters, rapists and robbers, vandals and vipers are hunted down, arrested and punished. We’re less enthusiastic when the law seems to impinge on our individual freedom. “I can just roll through this stop sign.” “Why can’t I drive as fast as want when no one else is around?” “One more drink isn’t gonna’ hurt anyone.” “But your honor, it was consensual. Honest!” “That doesn’t really apply to me; I’m different, special, in control of the situation. I’m Bernie Madoff.” “Torture is legal in the face of terror.” Then there are laws that are highly controversial like those that guarantee a woman’s right to choose or provide for the death penalty or reserve the right to marry for one class of people over against others or govern immigration. And, of course, there are laws that are plainly unjust – laws that sustain slavery, that institutionalization discrimination, that favor the rich and powerful at the expense of the poor and the weak.
For Christians, we have too often seen Jesus in conflict with the ancient laws of Israel. Paul helps perpetuate some of this misunderstanding in the way he chooses to place grace in conflict with the law. But, as we have considered that Jesus may have actually prayed Psalm 25 and Psalm 22, we might imagine that he also knew and prayed Psalm 19. He claims that he has come to fulfill the law not do away with it. It is important for us as his followers to understand this and Psalm 19 gives us insight into how we might resolve the conflict. In the first place, the word here translated in verse seven as “law” is more accurately understood as Torah. “The Torah of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul…” And what is Torah? Yes, it is law, but it is also story and poetry and religious ritual and many other things. It is the Word of Lord. It is the Way of God. The Word of the Lord is complete, all we need; the Way of God is life-giving, reviving the soul. This is exactly what Jesus was about – the Word of the Lord become flesh, the Way of God revealed.
What is this beautiful law? The Psalmist, steeped in the glory of God, shows us. “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.” Torah piety consists of attending to God’s law or Word, God’s decrees, God’s precepts, God’s commandments, the fear or awe of God, God’s ordinances. These are all concepts that say that God has given us all the instruction and guidance we need for right living. God’s way is perfect or complete, sure, right, clear, pure, true and righteous. It really is all laid out for those who will pay attention. And it is not a mean-spirited, punitive set of guidelines. God’s Word revives the soul, brings wisdom to the simple and rejoicing to the heart, enlightens the eyes and endures forever. Surely this is cause for joy and celebration.
Dianne Bergant suggests that the Psalmist finds the law “life-giving, and not restrictive, ennobling and not demeaning. Reverence for the law seems to promise the best that life has to offer." She further observes: "The effects of the law enumerated here are all relational, enhancing human life itself….the law imbues the soul with new vitality; it gives wisdom to those who would not ordinarily have it. It delights the heart; it enables the eyes to see dimensions of truth otherwise obscured. It establishes an enduring attitude of awe; it is a path to righteousness" (Diane Bergant, Preaching the New Lectionary Year B, quoted in SAMUEL, Lent 3, 2009, at ucc.org.)
In the end though, the Psalmist recognizes and attends to our humanness, our frailty and our weakness. And this, I think, is where Lenten practice comes into play most obviously. Remember Lent is a time for us to look inward, to take stock, to consider how attentive we have been to the glory of God all around us, how carefully we have listened for God’s Word, how consistently we have walked God’s way. Have there been errors in my understanding? Have there been hidden faults in my living? Have I spoken harsh or unkind words to those I considered insolent, stirring up conflict and enmity? Have I gossiped or griped or dished or cut anyone down out of fear or frustration or ignorance?
Jesus, the incarnate Word of God, walked the Psalmist’s ancient, holy Way, calling out to the poor and outcast, the needy and downtrodden, to those who had been used and abused by legalistic practitioners who distorted of God’s beautiful law. “Leave their distortions, leave their legalism, leave their injustice, leave their abuse. Come follow me. I will show you the Way. Look, there it is, the inbreaking reign of God, over there in the feeding of the hungry and the clothing of the naked, in caring for the lonely and imprisoned, the sick and dying. See, here it is in the breaking of bread and the sharing of life. Oh my friends, God’s Word is wonderful, God’s Way is perfect – “More to be desired…than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey, and drippings of the honeycomb. Moreover by them [be] warned; in keeping them there is great reward” – the sweet fulfillment of the realm of God. Amen.