To die is the only way to live
Commentary
This passage from Jeremiah has been called the most important single teaching of his prophecy, and indeed of the entire Old Testament. In these verses the message of Jeremiah reaches its zenith. Furthermore, the passage is critical to the unfolding revelation of God that stretches into the New Testament. In fact, the designation "Old" and "New" Testaments rely on this word from Jeremiah for their distinction. These words from the Old Testament are one of the most cited passages in the New Testament. It is quite certain that the words of Jesus at the Last Supper -- "This cup is the new covenant in my blood" (Luke 22:20; 1 Corinthians 11:25) -- have their root in Jeremiah's prophecy. In the letter to the Hebrews -- the New Testament book with the most references to the Old Testament -- there are numerous passages that are connected to covenant language and two -- 8:8-12 and 10:16-17 -- that are directly related to Jeremiah 31.
These words were probably spoken just after the destruction of the Temple in 587. It was a time of deep depression and dismay in the land. A word of hope is needed. It is important to note that when Jeremiah speaks of a "new" covenant, he is not suggesting that there was something faulty with the covenant made by God with Israel at Sinai. The "newness" is in the changed heart of the people. God does not change nor is it necessary for God to change the relationship with each new generation. But each generation needs to renew the covenant by making a new commitment to follow God.
"I will be their God, and they shall be my people" is a typical covenantal phrase. The initiative is with God, but it calls for a response from the people. The phrase "I will make" means literally "I will cut." Even in English we speak of "cutting a deal" with someone, an act that has covenantal overtones. We also note that there is a very personal accent in these words of Jeremiah. His recollection of the exodus from Egypt is cast in personal language -- "I took them by the hand" and "I was their husband." The former is unique in all of the Old Testament.
As for the "new covenant," phrases like "they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest" suggest a concern for the individual that is new. Yet, as Holladay points out, the term "heart" in 31:33 is singular in Hebrew -- not "hearts" as in the NRSV -- and suggests that no matter how personal the tone "it is the corporate will and intention of the people that is at stake." (William L. Holladay, Jeremiah 2, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989, p. 198.) Jeremiah has dwelt at length on the brokenness of the human heart and the severing of the covenant relationship. Now he promises that God will act again to bring new life to an undeserving people.
Hebrews 5:5-10
As we said above, the Letter to the Hebrews has more direct and indirect references to the Old Testament than any other book of the New Testament. This passage is typical. In this section of the letter, the author is dwelling on the role of Christ as high priest -- the only such book in the New Testament to refer to him in this way. He (or she) recalls that the high priest in Old Testament times required credentials in order to qualify for the office. How can Christ, not of a priestly lineage, meet that requirement?
To answer the question the writer sets up a rather complex argument. It goes like this: 1) Melchizedek was superior to Abraham, proved by the fact that Abraham offered gifts to him, and not vice versa; 2) The Levitical priests were descendants of Abraham, therefore also inferior to Melchizedek; 3) Christ, according to Psalms 2 and 110 (the "proof texts"), was of the order of Melchizedek; 4) Therefore, Christ is superior to the old Levitical priesthood.
Melchizedek is a foreign character to us, but not to early Christianity where there are many references to him in both Christian and non-Christian literature. In 1 Maccabees the Year of Jubilee is associated with Melchizedek and both Philo of Alexandria and Josephus refer to him. Thus, the author of Hebrews is not speaking to a vacuum. His readers are well aware of the importance of Melchizedek in religious history. And while his method of using the Psalm references to prove his point may seem strange to us, this practice was considered perfectly legitimate in the first century. The author is saying that after long and careful study he is convinced that Christ is "after the order of Melchizedek."
Whatever we make of this maze-like argument, we should not miss the point the writer wants to make in this section of the letter: namely, that Christ is a "priest forever." This is the new covenant promised through Jeremiah. While the old covenant was good in its time, it is now made obsolete by the coming of Christ, and specifically through his death. The high priest of the old order inherited his position; Christ has been "appointed" by God to fill the role forever. The high priest of the old order often did his duty by rote; Christ acted in personal obedience to the will of God, with "loud cries and tears." The Greek term for "loud cries" implies utterances that are wrung out of one in the depth of agony. The Gethsemane prayer and the cries from the cross are undoubtedly in mind here. John 12:20-33
I don't want to die. At least not right now. I may one day in the future. I have stood at the bed of saints of God who longed to die and I can understand that desire. But not right now. Yet, Jesus says that "unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies...." That makes it appear that we have no choice. Like it or not, we must die.
But we tell ourselves that Jesus is speaking of a different kind of death. He wants the death of self. Does that help us? Does it make it easier? No, not at all. If we are in the least bit honest with ourselves, we soon realize that it is as difficult, indeed more difficult, to die to self than to submit to physical death. We want to live. We want to hold on to every material comfort we have, to cling to every shred of recognition that comes our way, to use every dollar we make for our own benefit, to taste every pleasure we know to its ultimate. We don't want to die to self. We would rather put it off for some other time.
It is for these reasons and more that we need to hear again and again what Jesus calls for in this text. Raymond Brown suggests that 12:24 is actually a parable and points out further that it is without parallel in the teachings of Jesus. No other parable insists that it is only through death that one can bear fruit. The accent in what he asks is on qualitative rather than quantitative living. That is the reason, as Vanderlip has pointed out, that the term "eternal life" is better than "everlasting life." The latter implies quantity, a life that will go on and on. But "eternal" points to a quality of life that is for the here and now as well as for "the sweet by and by."
In this sense the seed of which Jesus speaks does not actually die. It may be that Jesus did not understand the process of germination as we do. But the thrust of what he says is that the seed surrenders itself in order to bring abundance. The surrender of the love of self is the door to the discovery of the abundant life. The death of self is the surrender of the selfish and ambitious person in order to rediscover one's true person as the image of God.
The phrase "it remains just a single grain" (or "remains alone" in the RSV) has a most pathetic ring to it. Yet, it is exactly what happens when we try to hang on to life rather than give it away.
Jesus has in mind, of course, his own death and what will come from it. And that is the secret to our own struggle. It is in our identity with Christ in his death and resurrection, and only in these, that we find the power to die to self and live for others.
Suggestions For Preaching
All three lessons open the door for a sermon on the new life in which we live in covenant love to God and loving service to neighbor. Though there is no greater joy or deeper satisfaction than to live in such a relationship with God, we need to stress that the call is to a life that will bring inevitable misunderstanding and suffering for the sake of others. It may sound nice and altruistic to serve others, but this life is costly. The reference in Hebrews 5 to our Lord's "prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears" is especially poignant.
If this seems too heavy, we can cite the witness of those who have walked in this way in life. Martyrs and saints of the ages can serve as examples. But so can those persons of our own acquaintance whom we have learned to know, love, and respect in our own ministry.
This is also a time to speak a courageous word for the neglected and misunderstood in our community. Even in the most upscale neighborhoods we do not look far to see those who need our compassion and our strong word of defense. This may not make us popular with some of our listeners. But it may bring repentance and a renewed commitment for others.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Phil Hanson, a Lutheran pastor who has been a leader in alcoholism treatment in the U.S., once wrote a book titled Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired. It's not a bad description of a repentance stuck in itself, promiseless. Though perhaps not aware of everything he saw, old Jeremiah points the way out: Easter, a new testament.
It doesn't necessarily require alcohol or another substance to get so bogged down. Trying to move on ourselves from the outside -- to get started dieting, to change a mannerism or attitude, to control a reaction -- can be a continuing experiment in frustration.
But there's nothing like alcohol to make the circle poisonous. The old refrain, "I can quit anytime I want to," plays on continuously in spite of the repeated realities of inebriation, the self-contempt of broken resolutions creating thirst for more chemical release as the cycle repeats. It is always doing penance without ever coming to repentance, self-abnegation with no hope of resurrection: sick and tired of being sick and tired, ad nauseum.
Jeremiah begins with this reality. The old relationship foundered in Israel's continuing attempts at self-modification. It was all outside-in.
But now there is promise of a new relationship, one so different that even the word covenant -- as appropriate as it may be in the Hebrew -- may not be able to carry enough weight. Covenant now implies contract, the same old "you do your share and I'll do mine" that Jeremiah declares God to be rejecting.
The new covenant is in fact a new testament, in the same sense as "last will and testament": a relationship established on the basis of the abiding love, fidelity, constancy, and magnanimity of the promise-maker who, being of sound mind and body, simply bequeaths all there is to give to the heir. It is pure gift.
Unlike the old covenant, this testament works inside-out. Instead of taking hold of hands and feet, will or intention, it lays hold of the heart, so altering a person at the center that that one, so grasped and comprehended, can't help but move into every relationship in light of this all-defining graciousness. Unconditional promise, it bestows an unconditional freedom: repentance comes to an end in faith, the present equivalent of the resurrection of the dead. The sick and tired cycle is broken; recovery has begun in the hands of the risen one. Easter has gotten out ahead of time.
These words were probably spoken just after the destruction of the Temple in 587. It was a time of deep depression and dismay in the land. A word of hope is needed. It is important to note that when Jeremiah speaks of a "new" covenant, he is not suggesting that there was something faulty with the covenant made by God with Israel at Sinai. The "newness" is in the changed heart of the people. God does not change nor is it necessary for God to change the relationship with each new generation. But each generation needs to renew the covenant by making a new commitment to follow God.
"I will be their God, and they shall be my people" is a typical covenantal phrase. The initiative is with God, but it calls for a response from the people. The phrase "I will make" means literally "I will cut." Even in English we speak of "cutting a deal" with someone, an act that has covenantal overtones. We also note that there is a very personal accent in these words of Jeremiah. His recollection of the exodus from Egypt is cast in personal language -- "I took them by the hand" and "I was their husband." The former is unique in all of the Old Testament.
As for the "new covenant," phrases like "they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest" suggest a concern for the individual that is new. Yet, as Holladay points out, the term "heart" in 31:33 is singular in Hebrew -- not "hearts" as in the NRSV -- and suggests that no matter how personal the tone "it is the corporate will and intention of the people that is at stake." (William L. Holladay, Jeremiah 2, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989, p. 198.) Jeremiah has dwelt at length on the brokenness of the human heart and the severing of the covenant relationship. Now he promises that God will act again to bring new life to an undeserving people.
Hebrews 5:5-10
As we said above, the Letter to the Hebrews has more direct and indirect references to the Old Testament than any other book of the New Testament. This passage is typical. In this section of the letter, the author is dwelling on the role of Christ as high priest -- the only such book in the New Testament to refer to him in this way. He (or she) recalls that the high priest in Old Testament times required credentials in order to qualify for the office. How can Christ, not of a priestly lineage, meet that requirement?
To answer the question the writer sets up a rather complex argument. It goes like this: 1) Melchizedek was superior to Abraham, proved by the fact that Abraham offered gifts to him, and not vice versa; 2) The Levitical priests were descendants of Abraham, therefore also inferior to Melchizedek; 3) Christ, according to Psalms 2 and 110 (the "proof texts"), was of the order of Melchizedek; 4) Therefore, Christ is superior to the old Levitical priesthood.
Melchizedek is a foreign character to us, but not to early Christianity where there are many references to him in both Christian and non-Christian literature. In 1 Maccabees the Year of Jubilee is associated with Melchizedek and both Philo of Alexandria and Josephus refer to him. Thus, the author of Hebrews is not speaking to a vacuum. His readers are well aware of the importance of Melchizedek in religious history. And while his method of using the Psalm references to prove his point may seem strange to us, this practice was considered perfectly legitimate in the first century. The author is saying that after long and careful study he is convinced that Christ is "after the order of Melchizedek."
Whatever we make of this maze-like argument, we should not miss the point the writer wants to make in this section of the letter: namely, that Christ is a "priest forever." This is the new covenant promised through Jeremiah. While the old covenant was good in its time, it is now made obsolete by the coming of Christ, and specifically through his death. The high priest of the old order inherited his position; Christ has been "appointed" by God to fill the role forever. The high priest of the old order often did his duty by rote; Christ acted in personal obedience to the will of God, with "loud cries and tears." The Greek term for "loud cries" implies utterances that are wrung out of one in the depth of agony. The Gethsemane prayer and the cries from the cross are undoubtedly in mind here. John 12:20-33
I don't want to die. At least not right now. I may one day in the future. I have stood at the bed of saints of God who longed to die and I can understand that desire. But not right now. Yet, Jesus says that "unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies...." That makes it appear that we have no choice. Like it or not, we must die.
But we tell ourselves that Jesus is speaking of a different kind of death. He wants the death of self. Does that help us? Does it make it easier? No, not at all. If we are in the least bit honest with ourselves, we soon realize that it is as difficult, indeed more difficult, to die to self than to submit to physical death. We want to live. We want to hold on to every material comfort we have, to cling to every shred of recognition that comes our way, to use every dollar we make for our own benefit, to taste every pleasure we know to its ultimate. We don't want to die to self. We would rather put it off for some other time.
It is for these reasons and more that we need to hear again and again what Jesus calls for in this text. Raymond Brown suggests that 12:24 is actually a parable and points out further that it is without parallel in the teachings of Jesus. No other parable insists that it is only through death that one can bear fruit. The accent in what he asks is on qualitative rather than quantitative living. That is the reason, as Vanderlip has pointed out, that the term "eternal life" is better than "everlasting life." The latter implies quantity, a life that will go on and on. But "eternal" points to a quality of life that is for the here and now as well as for "the sweet by and by."
In this sense the seed of which Jesus speaks does not actually die. It may be that Jesus did not understand the process of germination as we do. But the thrust of what he says is that the seed surrenders itself in order to bring abundance. The surrender of the love of self is the door to the discovery of the abundant life. The death of self is the surrender of the selfish and ambitious person in order to rediscover one's true person as the image of God.
The phrase "it remains just a single grain" (or "remains alone" in the RSV) has a most pathetic ring to it. Yet, it is exactly what happens when we try to hang on to life rather than give it away.
Jesus has in mind, of course, his own death and what will come from it. And that is the secret to our own struggle. It is in our identity with Christ in his death and resurrection, and only in these, that we find the power to die to self and live for others.
Suggestions For Preaching
All three lessons open the door for a sermon on the new life in which we live in covenant love to God and loving service to neighbor. Though there is no greater joy or deeper satisfaction than to live in such a relationship with God, we need to stress that the call is to a life that will bring inevitable misunderstanding and suffering for the sake of others. It may sound nice and altruistic to serve others, but this life is costly. The reference in Hebrews 5 to our Lord's "prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears" is especially poignant.
If this seems too heavy, we can cite the witness of those who have walked in this way in life. Martyrs and saints of the ages can serve as examples. But so can those persons of our own acquaintance whom we have learned to know, love, and respect in our own ministry.
This is also a time to speak a courageous word for the neglected and misunderstood in our community. Even in the most upscale neighborhoods we do not look far to see those who need our compassion and our strong word of defense. This may not make us popular with some of our listeners. But it may bring repentance and a renewed commitment for others.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Phil Hanson, a Lutheran pastor who has been a leader in alcoholism treatment in the U.S., once wrote a book titled Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired. It's not a bad description of a repentance stuck in itself, promiseless. Though perhaps not aware of everything he saw, old Jeremiah points the way out: Easter, a new testament.
It doesn't necessarily require alcohol or another substance to get so bogged down. Trying to move on ourselves from the outside -- to get started dieting, to change a mannerism or attitude, to control a reaction -- can be a continuing experiment in frustration.
But there's nothing like alcohol to make the circle poisonous. The old refrain, "I can quit anytime I want to," plays on continuously in spite of the repeated realities of inebriation, the self-contempt of broken resolutions creating thirst for more chemical release as the cycle repeats. It is always doing penance without ever coming to repentance, self-abnegation with no hope of resurrection: sick and tired of being sick and tired, ad nauseum.
Jeremiah begins with this reality. The old relationship foundered in Israel's continuing attempts at self-modification. It was all outside-in.
But now there is promise of a new relationship, one so different that even the word covenant -- as appropriate as it may be in the Hebrew -- may not be able to carry enough weight. Covenant now implies contract, the same old "you do your share and I'll do mine" that Jeremiah declares God to be rejecting.
The new covenant is in fact a new testament, in the same sense as "last will and testament": a relationship established on the basis of the abiding love, fidelity, constancy, and magnanimity of the promise-maker who, being of sound mind and body, simply bequeaths all there is to give to the heir. It is pure gift.
Unlike the old covenant, this testament works inside-out. Instead of taking hold of hands and feet, will or intention, it lays hold of the heart, so altering a person at the center that that one, so grasped and comprehended, can't help but move into every relationship in light of this all-defining graciousness. Unconditional promise, it bestows an unconditional freedom: repentance comes to an end in faith, the present equivalent of the resurrection of the dead. The sick and tired cycle is broken; recovery has begun in the hands of the risen one. Easter has gotten out ahead of time.
