Sermon March 25, 2012

Jeremiah 31:31-34

Psalm 51:1-12

Hebrews 5:5-10

John 12:20-33

“Heart Promises”

We could look around this world of ours—and throughout the history of humanity and find ourselves overwhelmed with despair. We could and sometimes we do. Or, we could, as I've heard some say, look around at the beauty of spring and the sunshine and wonder, “How could anyone be sad, today?” And most of us, most days, live within those two extremes, though individually we might generally be inclined more toward one than the other.

The prophet Jeremiah had a leaning; his nickname in Hebrew, “Hagor Mishabebh” – which meant “death and destruction.” It seems that he was inclined toward the despair end of the spectrum. And for good reason, it seems. He warned the leaders of Judah, time and time again that God wanted them to surrender to King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon and survive rather than resist and cause more death. This was seen as treason—as you can imagine—and so the rulers sentenced Jeremiah to death more than once, though he always escaped the sentence. He prophesied defeat for Judah and he was right. The truth isn't always sunny and warm—sometimes the truth is hard to hear.

And yet, even when the truth is difficult, causes pain, may lead to suffering or sickness or disease, we can still rely upon the covenants that God has made and that God has not broken. We may not be able to rely upon our own willpower or the fortitude of our souls. We may not be able, even, to know loyalty from our own family members when situations get too complicated and difficult.

Jeremiah, in his despair and in his gloom and doom, has received this word from God that means everything will be alright, even when everything seems to be wrong. To maintain some sanity and hope, I have to look at life and the universe and everything with these covenants in mind—and know the truth of this passage from Jeremiah. “^33bI will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. ³⁴No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord’, for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”¹

The word of God given to Jeremiah means this to me, “Even though I can't live up to the covenants that God has made, God will live up to them. Even though I act stupidly and ridiculously independent from God's love and care; God will still love and care for me. Even in the face of the sin and stupidity of all human beings, God is forgiving.”

Now, that doesn't mean that I don't have an obligation out of gratitude and basic courtesy to love God and do my best to live within the promises and loving ways of God, but it does mean that when I fail—and I will fail—that God loves me anyway and sometimes God loves me so much that it hurts.

The kings of Judah, who didn't like to hear what God had to say through Jeremiah, were hurt deeply by the truth. Babylon would destroy the most beloved institutions of the southern kingdom. The temple would be torn down; if the ark of the covenant hadn't already been lost, it would be now. Beautiful gold, copper and bronze instruments used in temple worship would be lost forever. The city of Jerusalem itself would be destroyed for the first time since it was built up as the capital of the Israelites. Jeremiah said that destruction would be less if they submitted to Babylon's rule—but they didn't want to give up their sovereignty. And so they were destroyed.

Jeremiah just knew—true to his nickname, “death and destruction”—that they wouldn't listen. But he also knew that out of the “death and destruction” would come life—because long ago God had promised this. He knew that the legacy of faith and relationship with God would continue because long ago God had promised it. God had long ago promised God's love and forgiveness and God's presence even in the harsh, but harmonious relationships of creation. These covenants would be kept because God's newest covenant would be written upon the heart, though painfully and with chastisement.

We come around again this morning to a time to face ourselves again—to face our mortality as we did on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of this Lenten time. We come around to a time when we know that without God we cannot truly live though we might survive in some way. Not that we don't know it most of the time, but the scriptures and themes during Lent remind us, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.” And that God said through Jeremiah, “I will write [my law] on their hearts.” And that Jesus knew, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

There is this movement through our Lenten scriptures and the covenants we have seen that the sign of covenant moves from the external—the rainbow, into the interpersonal—Abram and Sarai, to the transformation of a nation—by the law, to healing—by facing our failure and sin, and now to the awareness that our hearts need to be cleansed and engraved—only by God. And though it is internal, the cleansing of our hearts; it isn't just individualistic. This heart promise means the heart of who we are as a faithful people, as a community called the body of Christ, as a whole people committed to doing Christ's ministry in this time and place.

This covenant of the heart, this engraving of God's way upon our inmost being means being open to all that God would be within our lives. Though we may see utter devastation when looking through the eyes of humanity and the awful things we do to each other—we also can be open and hopeful that God can and will transform and create new hearts within us all.

We are called upon to let God in; we are called upon to follow the way that God has revealed to us—in the life of the nation of Israel, in the lives of God's prophets, in the life of Jesus Christ, teaching us and living with God's own self etched within him.

When we see hurting people or when we hurt desperately, let us listen to what it is that is needed, let us listen to those voices raised in passionate pleading. Let us listen to the pain of Jeremiah and the hope he found, knowing that God's redemption and forgiveness never ends, despite current circumstances. Let us hear the voice of Jesus as he approached the cross, knowing that great transformation and great (profound) messages require great sacrifice and servanthood.

Suffering in and of itself is not salvation—when Jesus says, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” He points us toward a purposeful sacrifice, the life of a community giving up pride and boastfulness, for example to be the servants of all. He points us to sacrifice the recognition of a grateful and adoring crowd for the gratitude of a loving God and Savior. When Jesus saw very clearly where his life would end, he framed his death in the life of compassion, purpose and mission that he had lived and for which he would die.

Jeremiah despaired of his beloved city of Jerusalem, though he knew that God would and could save God's people because God loved them. Jesus saw his own execution, though he knew that God's hope would sustain him whatever came. And Jesus pointed his disciples beyond his death—to the life that God would give and to the love that would always be theirs.

The promise of Lent, the covenants of God that we have reviewed this Lenten season draw us forward and remind us that God has always desired life for us, connection with us, joy in God's creation, love that is everlasting and transformed hearts to take us through all the times and places in our lives. Let us be renewed, transformed, and strengthened by God's covenant with all of God's people, now and forever more. Amen.

1Jeremiah 31:33b-34