I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.

We are midway through our Lenten journey and, looking back on our Hebrew Bible readings for the past three Sundays, we see that it’s been all about the covenants. On the first Sunday in Lent, we heard the story of God’s covenant spoken to Noah; a promise to every living creature, signified by a rainbow, that God would never again destroy the earth by flood. On the second Sunday, last week, we heard about God’s covenant, signified by a change of names, with Abram and Sarai–hereafter known as Abraham and Sarah–that they would become the ancestors of many nations. And today we have the covenant, later signified by stone tablets, that articulates the practices and expectations that would distinguish the Jewish people as those whose cries God had heard and had liberated from slavery. All three of these covenants, with their individual signs, are signs in themselves—signs of caring relationship between God and God’s children. Signs of who and whose we are.

The covenant that we hear of today is of course most commonly known as the Ten Commandments. The word, “Torah,” which describes the first five books of the Bible, is commonly, and not entirely accurately, translated as “law”, which is why we talk about Ten Commandments, which are central to Torah. But author Barbara Brown Taylor observes that a more accurate translation of “Torah” might be “instruction” or “teaching”. So, if we think of the covenant with Israel as teachings rather than commandments, then we see that the Ten Teachings are not so much a set of rules and obligations as they are a statement by God about who God is and what a relationship between God and those whom God has liberated should look like. Taylor writes: 

Torah is given to the people as divine direction. It describes the practices of those in covenant with the faithful God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Jesus.

….and Jesus.

This is a really important point, and worthy of a slight digression, because people so often look at today’s Gospel lesson about Jesus in the Temple at Passover as being about Jesus separating himself from Judaism as he turned over the tables, when actually this episode depicts Jesus’ messiahship as rooted in, and as the fulfillment of, the Jewish tradition and the covenant that is its foundation; the covenant the we are focusing on today.

(If you are interested in a fuller treatment of the passage from John’s Gospel you can follow the link on the website to my sermon three years ago.)

Returning to the Ten Teachings: How do we, as inheritors of this tradition through the faith of Jesus, respond? What is the relationship between the people’s obedience and God’s faithfulness? Actually, since the covenants with Noah and Abraham and Sarah took place before the covenant with Moses, we see that God’s faithfulness was well established long before the Exodus. The point of the Ten Teachings was/is to guide the people in the practices that would be ultimately lifegiving for them as individuals and as the people of God. As Taylor says: 

Those who ignore the divine teachings do so at their own peril—not because God is standing over them with a hammer, but because the teachings describe the way of life [emphasis mine] To ignore them is to wander into the ways of death instead, where God’s faithfulness can be of little use.

The teachings are about life. Abundant life. Life of trust in the goodness of God as opposed to the tyranny of anxiety and self-centeredness. And as Jesus pointed out during his ministry, it all comes down to two things: Love of God, and love of one’s neighbor. 

But just because it is that simple doesn’t mean it’s that easy. The Teachings are crystal clear until real life intervenes, and nowhere is this more evident than in Teaching Number Four:

Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work…

We talk a good game about Sabbath and how important it is, but we are lousy at following this teaching. We always have a good reason for not taking God up on God’s offer of rest and refreshment. What’s a little chore here, coaching a soccer game there, right? One more social media check-in…? Taylor writes of folks in the rural south near where she lives putting out yard signs with images of Moses’ tablets, and carefully mowing around them on a Sunday afternoon. 

In his book, Sabbath as Resistance, Walter Brueggemann points out that the importance and particular significance of the teaching on Sabbath derives from the contrast between the God of Liberation and the Pharaoh of commodification, relentless acquisition, and exploitation. God makes clear that Sabbath rest is a counterpoint to slavery, which was a constant routine of work and production devoid of rest. Sabbath is a statement that commodification, relentless acquisition and exploitation are characteristic of Pharaoh and the antithesis of God’s dream for Creation. It is in this way that sabbath is an act of resistance to the Pharaoh of our age.

Brueggemann goes further, noting that sabbath is an alternative to the commercial noise that makes demands on our time—the need to be on the go, filling every spare minute with activities for ourselves and our children, to the point that our rest time isn’t rest at all—we have become rest-less. Sabbath observance by contrast is an acknowledgement that our lives and all that we have are gifts from God, and that we are called to gladly let go of our need to be controlled by achievement culture.

The Christian household has done a poor job of articulating Sabbath as a gift, opting to portray it as an obligation. When I was growing up in Virginia, we had what were called Blue Laws—so called because they were printed on blue paper—that mandated Sunday closings of commercial establishments, particularly liquor stores. The religious community that influenced this legislation was more concerned about control of people’s behavior than they were about gratitude for God’s abundance.

In our Lent Book Group study of Barbara Brown Taylor’s Holy Envy, we’ve learned that the title comes from one of theologian Krister Stendahl’s criteria for interfaith understanding; that we should leave room for holy envy. To feel holy envy is to view a belief or practice of another faith group as something that illuminates and enlivens our own faith. 

I have holy envy of the Jewish tradition of welcoming the Sabbath as a bride—welcoming her divine peace and wisdom into the community. The congregation faces the sunset and sings: 

Let’s go, my beloved, to meet the bride,                lekha dodi liqrat kallah

Let us welcome the presence of Shabbat p’ne Shabbat neqabelah

(I won’t offend you by singing and mangling the Hebrew, but I’ve linked a YouTube video on our website, and I hope you’ll listen—it is delightfully addictive.)

Imagine how this different perspective could open us up—joyfully greeting the Sabbath Bride; contrasted with the dour cry of “Close the liquor stores!” How might such a change in perspective, from obligation to desire, transform us?

It’s a heavy lift. Our culture is so interwoven with Sabbath busyness that unraveling it seems impossible. But perhaps we are one step closer than we think. 

Brueggemann writes: 

I have come to think that the moment of giving the bread of Eucharist as gift is the quintessential center of the notion of Sabbath rest in Christian tradition. It is gift! We receive in gratitude. Imagine having a sacrament named “thanks”!

Jesus has already planted the seeds of Sabbath gratitude within us in the Eucharist, which means “thanksgiving.” We need only lift up our hearts and give thanks to our God. Let that be a beginning.