Legalism and Faith (Part 5 of 0)

Lessons from Hebrews – Part Seventeen

We asked the question, “Which New Testament book has the most detailed comparison of the law to the work of Christ?” most people would respond, “Hebrews.” The operative idea in Hebrews, however, is actually “contrast,” not “comparison.” When we compare, we look for similarities between two objects or ideas.

When we contrast, we look for differences. A biblical example of com­parison would be “as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up” (John 3:14). Here, Jesus makes the com­parison between his atoning sacrifice and the incident of the bronze serpent recorded in Numbers. We can draw out lessons by looking at the similarities, and seeing the typical meaning of the first event.

Revelation through Christ’s life

Hebrews does have more detail about the law than any other epistle, and that detail is set alongside the work of Christ. The writer, though, intends to show the differences, not commonalities, between the law and Christ. He emphasizes contrast, not comparison. The reason for this contrast? To show that the atoning work of Christ addressed the key issue, sinful human nature, whereas the rituals of the law had no efficacy to ameliorate either the nature or consequences of sin.

Hebrews repeatedly uses a word that shows the superiority of Christ over Moses. Translated variously as “more,” “better,” etc., the writer some dozen or so times claims that Christ’s work did what the law couldn’t. He makes detailed contrasts between the old covenant of works and rituals, and the new covenant of grace and faith. Then, in a section recorded in chapter ten, he quotes from Psalm 40 and establishes the vital factor by which the New Covenant of our Lord Jesus became eternally installed.

Let’s start where Hebrews starts — with the first contrast, the one that comes in the prologue of the letter. This contrast highlights the difference between God’s communication “of old” through the prophets, and the current manifestation of the Son. The difference? “He reflects the glory of God and bears the very stamp of his nature” (Heb. 1:3). “For in him the whole fulness of deity dwells bodily” (Col. 2:9 RSV). “The word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14 RSV). God’s revelation of Himself through His son surpassed any spoken or written revelation of the past.

He gave law, He gave prophesies, He gave psalms through David and wis­dom through Solomon. However, no prophet’s life itself fully represented God. “If you have seen me, you have seen the father,” said Jesus. It was his life, not just his words, that distinguished Jesus’ ministry. The medium of the message of the New Covenant was a life of perfect faith. This contrasted with a spoken or written message. This was the dispensation of life, not of laws. Life came not from following a written code, but from emulating the life of God’s son. The covenant of death had a basis of laws carved in stone (II Cor. 3:6-7); the covenant of life had its basis in a human life. Later in the letter, the writer will tell us the key factor which distinguished the magnifi­cence of this life.

Something better

Now let’s take a brief look at a series of contrasts, all in passages that use the word “better.” What does Hebrews tell us is “better” about the New Covenant?

  • a more excellent name (than the angels) 1:4.
  • better things that belong to salvation 6:9.
  • Melchizedek better than Levitical priesthood 7:5-10.
  • a better hope 7:19.
  • a better covenant 7:22.
  • a more excellent ministry, a better covenant established on better promises 8:6.
  • better sacrifices 9:23.
  • a better possession 10:34.
  • (the faithful of old) desired a better country 11:16.
  • a better resurrection 11:35.
  • something better for us (the Kingdom) 11:40.

(Note: “more excellent” [1:4 and 8:6] represents one Greek word, the re­mainder of the references a different Greek word.)

The cumulative force of this listing impresses on us the writer’s perspec­tive. Not so much does he use details of the law to draw lessons about the ministry of Jesus; rather, he contrasts the failings and weaknesses of the law with the perfection of God’s work in Christ.

Take, for example, the issue of the priesthood (7:11-28). The priests of the former priesthood, the Levitical, had a limitation. They died now and then, in contrast to the eternal priesthood of the immortal Jesus (vs. 23-24). Implied in this contrast is his sinlessness, a point expanded on in (7:27).

The writer’s point in mentioning the Levitical priesthood is not to show the similarity with Jesus, but the contrast. To our minds, unfamiliar with actually living under the old covenant, they might look the same. To one born and raised under the old covenant system, the contrasts would be dynamic. “On the one hand, a former commandment is set aside because of its weakness and uselessness (for the law made nothing perfect); on the other hand, a better hope is introduced, through which we draw near to God” (7:18,19, RSV). This is clearly the language of contrast, spoken by one who had expe­rienced both systems.

Metaphors of body and mind

Moving on to chapter nine, we have an explicit contrast which hones in on a key difference between ritualistic adherence and the righteousness that comes by faith. In the first ten verses, we read a brief description of the arrange­ments of the sanctuary and the priest’s activities, particularly on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. After several verses of recording the facts, the writer adds the commentary, “by this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the sanctuary is not yet opened as long as the outer tent is still standing, which is symbolic for the present age.” Something was still wrong with the system. The commentary continues, “According to this arrangement, gifts and sacri­fices are offered which cannot perfect the conscience of the worshipper, but deal only with food and drink and various ablutions, regulations for the body imposed until the time of reformation.” The various rituals of the law dealt only with the body; they had no efficacy on the conscience of the worshiper. That is, one could go through the motions of ritual without any inner percep­tion, without any symbolic learning, without any vicarious awareness, with­out any devotion or reverence or faith. As we have said in many ways in previous articles, no activity in the realm of behavior necessarily affects one’s mind. Nor does any activity or ritual or behavior have any necessary correla­tion with one’s piety.

Christ’s superior sacrifice

Now comes Christ into the true holy of holies. Not a physical entrance, but a spiritual one. Not a tent made by the craftsmanship of Israel’s finest artisans, but that realm which represented the presence of his Father. He took not animal sacrificial blood, but his own. Here we read the completion of the analogy (9:13). We can set out the key points thus:

blood of bulls and goats his own blood
purification of the flesh, regulations for the body purify your conscience

Ritual applied only to the realm of ritual, that is, ceremonial cleanliness. It had no effect in the realm of conscience.

So what made the blood of Christ a “better sacrifice” (v.23)? We could answer, “Because Jesus did no sin,” but neither did bulls and goats. Not in the sense that they had no blemish, but in the moral sense — they had no sin. “Ah,” you say, “they had no sin because they were amoral — outside the realm of morality.” That’s right. They could not do sin, nor could they do right. They were just animals. That is the issue — not that they were sinless, but that they couldn’t do right. They had no free will to exercise. As much as they might represent certain aspects of human nature in their brute instincts, no animal could willingly offer itself as a sacrifice. No animal could represent faith. No animal could serve as a model of obedience for humans to emulate. No animal could deal with all the aspects of human nature gone wrong.

Thus the superiority of Christ’s sacrifice depended on his identification with human nature, and the efficacy of his sacrifice for us depends on our identification with him.

I have come to do thy will

When we get to Hebrews 10, we have one more iteration of the failure of ritual to deal with the conscience. Yes, it is repetitious, a divine repetition to make us fully aware of an immensely important theological principle: ritual (behavior) cannot perfect conscience (thinking). The two operate at different levels. Finally comes the blunt declaration: it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sin. Fifteen hundred years of Mosaic observance, and sin still ruled (through the law) over all Israel!

Now comes the quotation from Psalm 40 which demonstrates exactly the efficacy of Christ’s sacrifice, and what his blood truly represented. The quotation itself starts with one of the many Old Testament declarations of the law’s futility, “sacrifices and offerings thou hast not desired…in burnt offerings and sin offerings you take no pleasure.” In what would God take plea­sure? “Lo, I have come to do thy will.” This point gets repeated for empha­sis, adding that God abolished the covenant of ritual in order to establish the second covenant established upon “I have come to do thy will.”

Do thy will. That’s what gave superiority to Christ’s covenant. It repre­sented the subjugation of human will to the purpose of the Lord God. No animal sacrifice could ever do that. Can you imagine a bull willingly offering itself upon the altar? The thought is absurd. The priests dragged the ignorant beast out of the herd, slit its throat, drained its blood, and burned it. The bull had no say in the matter at all. It was only an “innocent bystander,” brain­lessly chewing its cud, not having any clue as to its imminent demise or purpose. It was just a stupid brute going to slaughter, and it had no fraction of an idea that it was involved in something important. A bull at the slaughter­house, destined for hamburger, would have the same spiritual insight — none.

Only a human could sacrifice his own will. Only a human could deal with the real problem — human nature. Only a human could make a lifelong com­mitment to subjugate will, and then willingly offer oneself, and know exactly what he was doing. Only a perfect human’s willing offering of self could address all the issues of human nature, namely:

  1. He dealt with the reality of human nature in his own person.
  2. He dealt with the principle of sin, nailing it representationally to the cross.
  3. He gave us the example to follow so we can experience, although imperfectly, subjugating our own will.
  4. He gave us a basis of faith so that by grace we can experience immor­tality, and thus the physical destruction of our own human nature.
  5. By his own resurrection, he now has the immortal power to cleanse the earth of all human nature.

Thus, the willing subjugation of free will by the Lord Jesus sufficed to ameliorate every aspect of the calamity of the misuse of human free will. In himself, in us, in the world — symbolically, representatively, physically. Jesus conquered will, something no animal could do. Animals could not deal with will. Thus, they could only serve as instruments of legal purification.

The willing slave

One more point. The quotation of Psalm 40 in Hebrews 10:5 comes from the Septuagint translation which reads, “a body thou hast prepared for me.” However, this same line in the Hebrew text of Psalm 40:6 reads, “thou hast given me an open ear,” or “ears thou hast dug for me” (RSV mg.). This perhaps alludes to the practice of a slave willingly volunteering his lifelong fealty to his master when he could have otherwise been set free (Ex. 21:1-6). The master would take the slave to the door, put his ear up against the flat of the jamb, and bore a hole in it with an awl — “and he shall serve him for life.”

This provision of the law comes immediately after the giving of the ten commandments (Ex. 20). Psalm 40’s next phrase reads “I delight to do thy will, O my God, thy law is within my heart.” What a beautiful contrast, prefiguring Paul’s same analysis in II Corinthians, where he contrasted the law of the dispensation of death, written on tablets of stone, with the spirit of Christ, written on our hearts (II Cor. 3:2-6).

The Hebrews quote ends with Psa. 40:7, but as is often the case, the mind of the reader goes on. Any diligent Jew of Paul’s day would know what came after, “I have come to do thy will.” The next line reads, “I delight to do thy will, O my God, thy law is within my heart” (Psa. 40:8). Here we have, stated clearly as can be, in the Old Testament, the principle of Christ’s superiority over the law, and the basis of every “better” of the book of Hebrews: the subjugation of human will. Jesus loved his father so much that it became his delight to do his father’s will, even though that will meant his death on the cross.

A person can offer no greater sacrifice than to lay his will at the foot of God’s throne. This is not a ritual — it is the daily harnessing of our internal rebellion and fleshly desires and lusts. It is the deference of self to God. This is not a mere Lenten ritual of self-denial behavior; this is the real thing. This is the operation of the spirit on the highest level of our inner being — our will. This quotation from Psalm 40 so aptly states what made Messiah’s work better than the blood of bulls and goats. Finally a sacrifice was offered that operated in the realm of conscience, values and identity. One’s will is one’s being, and Christ said, “Not my being, but your glory, your purpose, your mind be manifested.”

Brothers and sisters, this is a power to emulate. Christ identified with human nature so that the era of grace could replace the era of law. If we identify with the sacrifice of Christ at its fullest level — the level of will — we can assure that his death will not have been in vain. We have entered into the blood of the eternal covenant, the blood that represents sacrificed will, the blood that deals with conscience, the blood that represents the eternal cov­enant and the resurrection to eternal life. If we reduce his death to a mere ritual of Sunday observance, we have trodden the blood of the Son of God underfoot, as any other sacrificial animal.