Deuteronomy 19:1–21 – Deuteronomy: Then You Shall Live
Transfiguration Sunday – February 23, 2020 (am)
 

God, source of all light, by your Word give light to our lives. Amen.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

            Today’s sermon text is Deut 19, which can be found on p. 162 of the pew Bibles. Please turn there now. Deuteronomy, ch. 19. Hear the word of the Lord:

“When the LORD your God cuts off the nations whose land the LORD your God is giving you, and you dispossess them and dwell in their cities and in their houses, you shall set apart three cities for yourselves in the land that the LORD your God is giving you to possess. You shall measure the distances and divide into three parts the area of the land that the LORD your God gives you as a possession, so that any manslayer can flee to them.
            “This is the provision for the manslayer, who by fleeing there may save his life. If anyone kills his neighbor unintentionally without having hated him in the past— as when someone goes into the forest with his neighbor to cut wood, and his hand swings the axe to cut down a tree, and the head slips from the handle and strikes his neighbor so that he dies—he may flee to one of these cities and live, lest the avenger of blood in hot anger pursue the manslayer and overtake him, because the way is long, and strike him fatally, though the man did not deserve to die, since he had not hated his neighbor in the past. Therefore I command you, You shall set apart three cities. And if the LORD your God enlarges your territory, as he has sworn to your fathers, and gives you all the land that he promised to give to your fathers— provided you are careful to keep all this commandment, which I command you today, by loving the LORD your God and by walking ever in his ways—then you shall add three other cities to these three, lest innocent blood be shed in your land that the LORD your God is giving you for an inheritance, and so the guilt of bloodshed be upon you.
            “But if anyone hates his neighbor and lies in wait for him and attacks him and strikes him fatally so that he dies, and he flees into one of these cities, then the elders of his city shall send and take him from there, and hand him over to the avenger of blood, so that he may die. Your eye shall not pity him, but you shall purge the guilt of innocent blood from Israel, so that it may be well with you.
            “You shall not move your neighbor's landmark, which the men of old have set, in the inheritance that you will hold in the land that the LORD your God is giving you to possess.
            “A single witness shall not suffice against a person for any crime or for any wrong in connection with any offense that he has committed. Only on the evidence of two witnesses or of three witnesses shall a charge be established. If a malicious witness arises to accuse a person of wrongdoing, then both parties to the dispute shall appear before the LORD, before the priests and the judges who are in office in those days. The judges shall inquire diligently, and if the witness is a false witness and has accused his brother falsely, then you shall do to him as he had meant to do to his brother. So you shall purge the evil from your midst. And the rest shall hear and fear, and shall never again commit any such evil among you. Your eye shall not pity. It shall be life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.”

            It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. The haves were stuffed and sated, devouring the lives of the have nots. Injustice prevailed. The legal system didn’t help. It was part of the problem. Laws protected the prosperous, imposing on them hand-slaps for crimes, but wielding devastating sanctions on paupers who committed minor infractions.[1] Outside the legal system, human lives were trafficked into many forms of slavery. Prostitution was rampant, and, as it often is, it preyed on women who had little-to-no social capital or advantage. Violent rape and the shedding of innocent blood was common. And the weakest in society, babies, were trampled in hopes of better happiness and surer access to the good life for parents and society.

            I’m speaking of pagan life in the land of Canaan.[2] Scripture reveals that life in Canaan was marked by awful injustices such as institutionalized inequality and brutality,[3] the exploitation of women,[4] and child sacrifice to the god Molech.[5] But God rescued Israel from Egyptian oppression and injustice, so that he might plant them like a fresh vine in Canaan to be a priestly kingdom, a testimony to the nations of a new and better way of justice, order, and equity.

            That’s what Deuteronomy aims at. In the last several weeks, we’ve seen laws given to Israel that the helpless may be helped, the hungry fed, the public life and calendar of Israel ordered, the nation governed by just leaders.[6] In today’s passage, Deut 19, we get further laws for societal justice and order, now having to do with cities of refuge in vv. 1–13,[7] land rights in v. 14, and testimony in court in vv. 15–21. Let’s walk through each section, starting in vv. 1–13.

            The Ten Commandments[8] are clear: you shall not murder. Yet there are some instances of killing in a fallen world that aren’t clearly murder, when, according to v. 4, a person kills “unintentionally,” accidentally.[9] In modern legal lingo, we’d call these manslaughter. Cities of refuge are God’s wise institution for protecting manslayers.[10]

            They would need protection because of a custom known as “avenging of blood.” In early Israel, when a person was killed, it was the people’s responsibility to ensure that justice was enacted. It was the tribe’s and city’s responsibility to see that the spilt blood of the innocent was atoned for and its pollution purged.[11] That’s where the avenger of blood of v. 6 comes in. He was tasked with tracking down the killer and, if necessary, enacting capital punishment.

            No one is sure just who this avenger of blood was supposed to be.[12] The text is unclear about it. What is clear is that the avenger of blood must not act alone. Moses commands cities of refuge to operate throughout the land,[13] where killers who pled innocent of murder may find asylum and await a fair trial.[14] In v. 12, we see that the trial would be conducted by “the elders of the city”[15] (i.e., the city of the slain). If they determined a murder had taken place, then the city of refuge would deliver the now-convicted murderer to the proper authority—that is, to the avenger of blood. But if the death was ruled an accidental killing, then the one guilty of manslaughter had indefinite asylum in the city of refuge.[16] The avenger of blood clearly plays a role in the pursuit of justice, but he’s not to act on his own but with the proper elders and the citizens of the city of refuge. This is important since, if left to his own perspective and inclination, the avenger might, v. 6 says, act “in hot anger,”[17] killing one who “did not deserve to die.”[18]

            Cities of refuge were, thus, a God-given institution to protect the innocent against wrongful judgment. When v. 10 prohibits spilling innocent blood, the blood in view is the manslayer’s.[19] We might imagine how easy it would be for such a one to come to an unjust end: the avenger of blood had a responsibility to make retribution for the death of his loved one; the powerful among the slain’s clan might in yearning for vengeance forget justice. Cities of refuge held such powerful social forces in check, protecting the otherwise vulnerable innocent.

            That’s what makes the building of many of them crucial. In vv. 1–3, the Lord commands not one but three cities of refuge to be built after Israel enters the land.[20] And, in vv. 8–9, if a day comes when, by the obedience of God’s son Israel, the borders of the land expand further, God wants three more cities to be built.[21] Why must these cities multiply? I think it’s because God wants them to be accessible to all.[22] He doesn’t want a land with some “near” but others “far” from justice. God doesn’t want “the way to be too long,” lest a manslayer be overtaken on the way. God wants full justice and equity, not a partially enacted “justice” that favors only some.

            Moving to v. 14, here God prohibits moving boundary markers. Ancient property sometimes had clear boundaries, like rivers or roads.[23] But some lines were less obvious, marked perhaps only by a tree or a large stone.[24] Now a stone is a bit easier to move than a river. So God says, “Don’t steal land by altering boundaries.”[25] There are, of course, many ways to skin a cat.[26] Sometimes land is seized by brute force. Sometimes schemes are devised to trap people in debt so they have to sell land to survive. There are many forms of the evil God condemns.[27]

            Consider some factors involved in theft of land. First, being swindled out of land, in an agrarian society, is a life-and-death issue.[28] If your family literally lives off the land, to lose it is to lose more than an abstraction called “property.” Second, stealing this particular land—the land of Canaan—wasn’t only a humanitarian offense but a theological outrage. Why? Because God himself gave this land to Israel. To move a boundary in Canaan is to steal from one’s neighbor and to defy the Creator.[29] It is important to note, third, the identity of those who steal land from others. Do the weak typically seize property from the strong? Do they have the resources and positioning to pull off a good swindle of the politically powerful and economically and socially protected? Of course not. It’s usually the other way around.[30] In this light, the law in v. 14 is of a piece with the concern we saw in God’s law on cities of refuge. God condemns the moving of boundary stones, because he protects the innocent and weak and provides equal justice to all.

            The chapter concludes in vv. 15–21 with a law on the giving of testimony in court. Here the basic requirement, well known to many Christians, is for testimony from two or three witnesses. Sometimes false accusations are hurled against a person. But how do you tell the truth when it’s no more than a matter of my word against your word? Deuteronomy seems to think you can’t. So it seeks to triangulate, with testimony from multiple sides—not just one but two or three (or more) witnesses. Or lacking multiple testimony, vv. 16–18 call for a diligent and thorough investigation by the appointed authorities, the priests and judges. In either case, the point is to protect against the perversion of justice by false and malicious accusation.[31]

            This law, like the other laws in ch. 19, is after a just society. And, like the preceding laws, this law wants justice enacted in Israel with equity.[32] Without checks and balances, it would be overwhelmingly easy for a rich and influential person to sway a court by the power of his or her lone word, to the harm of a weaker neighbor.[33] God’s law has that danger also in view.[34] When it’s found that false testimony has been given, a swift and strict judgment should ensue. The very sentence that the false accuser was angling for against another is to be poured out on the false accuser’s head. This is poetic justice. God means to purge the land of moral filth, and even the temptation to it. For v. 20 says that “the rest shall hear and fear” God’s just judgment.

            The final verse, v. 21, reiterates the point: “life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.” This verse has often been used as a prooftext of how harsh God is, how bloodthirsty he is, how unmerciful he is.[35] But we can only conclude that by not paying attention to the context of the verse. The basic meaning of “life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth” is simply that the punishment should fit the crime. Retribution should not be merely bloodthirsty but thirsty for God’s uprightness and fairness in judgment.[36] This is in perfect harmony with the context in Deut 19 and God’s concern for the fair and equitable enactment of justice in society, to protect those vulnerable to the forces of revenge, to uphold the legal right of the defenseless.

            Far from being a sign that God is bloodthirsty in mere vengeance, Deut 19:21 would seek to end a spiral of vengeance and vindictiveness. The clearly stated legal principle of just retribution can be understood as a prohibition on making judgments simply out of a personal or tribal sense of what revenge requires. Retaliation leads to counter-retaliation, and on and on. To say “life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth” is to say “don’t let the spiral of revenge get a foothold, but let true and fit justice be enacted the first time.”[37] The law of retribution is, from this perspective, also a merciful stay on the otherwise endless cycle of violence.[38]

            In Deut 19, God commands Israel to pursue the things which make for peace, justice, order, and equity as a kingdom. Yet, despite this good law, justice broke down in Israel in all sorts of ways. Remember the story of Naboth in 1 Kings 21? King Ahab covets Naboth’s vineyard, but Naboth refuses to sell his “inheritance.”[39] So what do King Ahab and Jezebel do? They drum up a false accusation against Naboth, resulting in his stoning. With Naboth dead, King Ahab is free to take Naboth’s land. Ahab and Jezebel “move a boundary stone.” They wield false testimony. They orchestrate murder.[40] They pad their lives by devastating the life of the weak.[41] In one fell swoop Ahab and Jezebel defy everything Deut 19 stands for. They even do it by the book, as it were. They make sure to have not one but two witnesses testify against Naboth.[42] They don’t openly defy God’s law, but neither do they submit to it and its true call on their lives. They use God’s law as a tool to pervert justice and to pursue their own self-determined call.

            No wonder Habakkuk laments the law’s impotence in the face of oppression.[43] And the psalmists lift up many anguished protests about false witnesses[44] and the devising of injustice.[45]  Even the rocks and trees and fields and hills groan for the justice of God.[46] How long, O Lord, will you ignore? For those with eyes open to reality, even for the very dirt of the earth, the burden of evil and the pollution of injustice is, in Ahab’s day and beyond, deeply lamentable.

            And still today, injustice runs rampant. Whatever we feel about the many hashtags and “social justice movements” of the day (I imagine there’s some diversity of feeling among us), we all must surely agree that God’s purposes for a just and ordered society are far from met today. The globe is riddled with hunger and starvation. Sex trafficking is a multi-billion dollar industry, present in our backyards if we but pay attention.[47] Whole nations give refuge to murderers of the innocent, helpless unborn. Racial inequalities and animosities make it awfully hard even to listen with sympathy to one another, much less understand and learn about equitable justice from one another. Increasingly sophisticated schemes are developed to swindle and intimidate the elderly out of life savings. Those with cash and social capital skirt the legal systems. The checkbooks of some people and systems are greatly padded by the enslavement of many others to opioids and other drugs, both legal and illegal. The world is a far cry from Deut 19.

            But what’s a faithful response for us who bear Christ’s name? Here is one (hypothetical) response worth considering. It’s a minimizing of the significance of injustice, a shifting of attention. It’s to say, in effect: Yes, injustice may be bad, but Christians should focus on other things. Isn’t that what Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount? Let’s turn to Matt 5 to see it. In Matt 5:38–39, Jesus declares, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.” See! Deuteronomy demands harsh justice, but Jesus says pursue mercy and let justice concerns fade. Don’t get hot-and-bothered about justice in society; just seek mercy interpersonally.[48]

            That would, I believe, be a wrongheaded approach to Matt 5 (and to Deut 19, and to life). It poses a false alternative. Consider the example Jesus gives in v. 39.[49] Someone strikes you on your right cheek, a great dishonor.[50] If we’re keyed to the law, we’d think that justice calls for a response in kind—an eye for an eye. A slap given calls for a slap in return. Deuteronomy calls for that. “But I, Jesus, say to you …” What? Jesus expects a second slap. Have you ever noticed this? He does not say, “Forget about just retribution and just be merciful.” He does not deny that public justice and order are still concerns for God’s people. On the contrary, we may understand Jesus as expecting justice to be upheld: a second blow, one of retributive justice. But amazingly it’s a blow that we, the offended party, are willing to take on ourselves as an offer of mercy.

            This is mercy and justice standing in harmony. Jesus doesn’t oppose his mercy to the justice of the law. He doesn’t minimize or divert his people’s concern for justice; and neither should we. Jesus came not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it, all of it, with a righteousness surpassing that of the scribes and Pharisees.[51] And this is the life he calls his disciples to. It is not less than what God demanded in Deuteronomy; it’s arguably more. Jesus ups the ante, as it were.

            Then are we all just toast? Justice always breaks down. We can’t enact the just life God demands. No amount of laws from a great prophet like Moses, or commands given to us even from the Lord Jesus changes us. But praise be to God that Jesus didn’t only demand us to enact perfect justice and perfect mercy perfectly. He does more.[52] What? When Roman soldiers beat him with fists, Jesus turns the other cheek to receive further blows. He gives, we might say, not just his shirt but also his coat, being stripped not once but twice on the way to the cross. Jesus himself is a city of perfect justice and perfect mercy set on a hill, the hill of Calvary, that light might shine for all the world to see.[53] This is the transfiguring glory of Jesus for us to marvel at.

            But the story doesn’t end on Good Friday. Christ rises from the grave on Easter. Then on Pentecost, King Jesus from his rightful throne pours out the spoils of his kingly victory on his subjects who have received by faith his redeeming love. He pours out his Holy Spirit on the church. Why? Because he wants to empower the hearts, hands, and feet of a new society so that they might live into the type of life and calling and mission that God was giving in Deuteronomy. Just as God spoke Deuteronomy to Israel that they might seek justice, order, peace, equity, mercy, love, and wholeness as a testimony to the nations, God now, in Christ, empowers the redeemed church by his Spirit to be a testimony to the nations of true life.

            At least, that’s how the NT seems to respond to Deut 19. In Matt 5, Jesus expects his disciples to pursue wise “eye for eye” justice in harmony with mercy. In 1 Tim 5:19, Paul says, “Do not receive an accusation against an elder except on the basis of two or three witnesses.” The public order and due process commanded in Deut 19 helps Timothy know how to “be the church.” In Jas 4, employers who defraud workers of wages are called to account; in 1 Cor 11, the rich who cheat the poor out of food at the Lord’s Supper are judged. It’s a lot like God’s command to Israel in Deuteronomy to hold swindlers of the vulnerable accountable. The church is, according to Eph 2, where there are no longer those who are “near” and others who are “far” from peace; where no one is excluded by virtue of blood or color or social capital or political affiliation or intellectual or physical ability; where weak and strong, rich and poor, young and old, men and women, advantaged and disadvantaged all have equal access to the justice and mercy of the cross and the table of the King. That sounds a lot like what God wanted in Deuteronomy.

            And the church is where those hardened in sin should receive just judgment. Remember in Deut 19, cities of refuge provided asylum for “unintentional” manslaughter. But what if the killer was found to be a murderer, an intentional, “high handed”[54] transgressor? Such a one was to be cut off. That, too, is to happen, in a manner, in Christ’s church. We call it church discipline. In 1 Cor 5, Paul says that those who sin defiantly against King Jesus and his call on our lives should be “delivered over to Satan for the destruction of their flesh.”[55] And then, to justify this call, Paul quotes what else but Deuteronomy: “Remove the wicked from among yourselves.”[56]

            Transformations have happened from Deuteronomy to the NT. The ways in which the NT uses Deuteronomy are never a one-to-one correlation. We must labor to grow in wisdom for knowing how it works out on the ground in the varied circumstances of life.[57] But however the precise details work out, in general the NT writers think that the justice, mercy, peace, equity, and order that Deuteronomy aims at is beginning to be tasted in the church of Christ.

            What, then, might a faithful Christian response be to the rampant injustice of the world in contradiction to God’s purposes in Deut 19, but in light of the work of Christ? I think it has to start with confession of our sin and sickness before the Lord. Jesus came to heal not the well but the sick, so it stands to reason that if we desire Jesus’ healing, then a first step is to admit our sickness honestly before him. We are broken, diseased, devastated by injustice and our own complicity in it, in ways large and small. We must bring that into the light of the Lord.

            And coming in repentance to the light that shines from Calvary’s hill, we find that both justice and mercy have been accomplished for our everlasting good. The justice we yearn for, and the mercy we desperately need, have already made a landing on the shores of this earth, have already begun to conquer the kingdom of darkness. Let us receive this grace in full faith.

            Then, having the eyes of faith opened to the true state of a world so ruined that it takes the death of the Son of God to reconcile it, and being awakened to a divine commitment to justice and mercy so unshakeable that God sends his Son to the cross, we are, surprisingly, freed and fueled to boldly lament how the world is outside of Christ. It’s counterintuitive at first, but biblical lament doesn’t spring from doubt about God’s power or purpose to make things right. Rather, because we taste by faith what he has already done, and we yearn in hope for him to finish the work to the ends of the earth, we join the psalmists and the groaning creation in supplication to God.[58] Coming to the cross looses our tongues for honest and truthful lament.

            But coming to the cross has another effect. Importantly, when we come to the foot of the cross, if we look around us in that “place,” we discover that there are already other people there.[59] There’s a church of Christ’s disciples, upon whom, together with ourselves, the empowering Spirit of God has been poured. And in this church, filled with the Spirit, the realities of God’s kingdom of order and justice and goodness and mercy are already beginning to be tasted and lived into and offered as a witness, which we’ve seen in our hasty survey of NT texts. It’s already happening by God’s power and grace in the church. If we care about justice and the good of human society (and I hope we do), then let us first pay attention to, and labor for the good of, and live into the church, whose life is won and opened up for us in Christ. This is not a forsaking of the social concern that is so obvious in Deuteronomy. It is a humble, grateful jumping into the social transformations that have already begun in Christ as a crucial part of our testimony to and our labor for the good of the nations. As one writer has pithily stated it, “Christians’ first political responsibility is to be the church.”[60] We engage a broken society best by first being a different kind of society. That’s what God has made and is making us in Christ.

            Confession and repentance, trusting in the justice and mercy of Christ’s cross, lamenting the remaining brokenness, and more attentive and truthful and hope-filled living into the life opened up to us in the church—that’s what I would suggest is a fitting Christian response to the great brokenness and injustice of the world. It is, I add, just the beginning of the discussion. There’s a whole life of vocation for the life of the world that life in the church may form and fuel us for and fling us into. But these steps are no less crucial for being a beginning.

            My prayer for us as a church is that these might be our priorities and our sure launching point. My prayer for us is that we might guarded from, or perhaps shaken out of, the stupor that so easily engulfs, where we don’t see the world the way God does, where we are numb and apathetic to God’s passion and pursuit for justice. My prayer is that we would not buy into the lie that the real mover and shaker of history is the legislations or public policies or military rulers and might of the kingdoms of the world not Christ and his church. My prayer is that we the church would be a society, an outpost of God’s true City, which is surprising among the nations, for having, in the place of anxiety and fear, joy and celebration and rest in a work that has already been accomplished for our good; for exercising welcome to all and hospitality to the outcast and not just to our friends; for being a people of order and, as necessary, of church discipline because our God has shown us that true welcome is not a real alternative to true justice. My prayer for us as a church is that we would labor steadfastly, humbly, confidently for the justice of God’s kingdom, knowing that, in the risen Christ, our labors are not in vain.[61]

            This is, of course, not only my prayer but our prayer. For it’s what our Lord Jesus taught us to pray as the redeemed people of his kingdom, until God’s kingdom comes and his will is done on earth as it is in heaven. To that end, let us together pray the Lord’s Prayer:

 

                                                Our Father, who art in heaven,

                                                hallowed be thy name;

                                                thy kingdom come;

                                                thy will be done;

                                                on earth as it is in heaven.

                                                Give us this day our daily bread.

                                                And forgive us our debts,

                                                as we forgive those our debtors.

                                                And lead us not into temptation;

                                                but deliver us from evil.

                                                For thine is the kingdom,

                                                the power,
                                                and the glory,

                                                forever.

                                                Amen.

Notes:

[1]    As will become evident below, I am speaking here with reference to pagan societies in the ancient Near East (ANE). On the inequity of ANE legal systems, see J. G. McConnville, Deuteronomy, AOTC 5 (Leicester: Apollos; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2002), 309, 314; cf. Moshe Greenberg, “The Biblical Concept of Asylum,” JBL 78 (1959): 125–32, at 129.

[2]    These points about ancient society in the land of Canaan (and more broadly) are in many circles uncontroversial, being a long-standing majority position (see, e.g., William B. Nelson Jr., “Prostitution,” EDBT, 647–48, and most standard commentaries). In recent years, however, critical historical study of the ancient world has begun to question the extent (and in some cases, the existence) of some of these egregious practices—e.g., child sacrifice and cult prostitution (though I don’t refer expressly to the latter, it is relevant to the discussion)—as well as the propriety of speaking of some monolithic and readily identifiable “Canaanite culture.” See, e.g., K. L. Noll, “Canaanite Religion,” Religion Compass 1 (2007): 61–92, at 83–85. The latter point about “Canaanite culture” is well taken, which is why I try to refer to peoples/societies (e.g., Hittite, Amorite, Jebusite) in the land of Canaan. On the former point (i.e., cultural disorder and debauchery), I am inclined to think it is more a matter of extent than existence, but in any case my point in what follows is canonical. That is to say, from the biblical testimony itself, we see that what God wants Israel to be distinguished from is a culture of chaos, injustice, and death.

[3]    See, e.g., Gen 4:24. This, as we will see below, is precisely why the law of talion would have shone brightly with justice and equity in the ANE world.

[4]    See, e.g., Gen 38. Importantly, after Tamar is introduced in v. 6 by name as “Tamar,” she is almost always referred to by way of her relationships to others: “brother’s wife” (vv. 8, 9), “daughter-in-law” (vv. 11, 16, 24; cf. vv. 13, 25), “widow” (v. 11), daughter of her “father” (v. 11), “the harlot/prostitute” when she takes up her disguise (vv. 15–21). (Several times she is also referred to simply as “she/her” [vv. 8, 15, 16, 20, 21, 24, 25, 26] or “the woman” [v. 20].) It’s as if her identity (and welfare) were almost totally dependent on the people she is related to, which, of course, is part of the story’s point and part of the sadness of Judah’s exploitative treatment of her. See further Adele Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative, Bible and Literature Series (Sheffield: Almond, 1983), 59–60.

[5]    Note the prohibitions of Lev 18:21; 20:2–5; Deut 12:31.

[6]    See chs. 12–18. In general, “Governmental and judicial authority is the subject in 16:18–21:23” (Meredith G. Kline, Treaty of the Great King: The Covenant Structure of Deuteronomy [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1963; repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2012], 79; cf. Patrick D. Miller, Deuteronomy, Int [Louisville: John Knox, 1990], 143), but in terms of form and style, as McConville, Deuteronomy, 308, notes, “Chs. 19–25 form a distinct sub-section of the book, comprising laws on various subjects, in a style that is generally less hortatory than in chs. 12–18.”

[7]    The cities are not expressly named “cities of refuge” here in Deut 19 (nor in Deut 4:41–43). They are expressly named “cities of refuge” in the parallel legal passage and much more detailed Num 35:6–34, and in the parallel narrative fulfillment passage in Josh 20. As Kline notes, “Joshua’s role in completing the appointment of these cities is a mark of the functional and dynastic oneness of Joshua with Moses” (Treaty of the Great King, 102). Kline makes the additional and very illuminating observation that Deuteronomy as a whole is, fundamentally, about covenantal life after Moses and the dynastic succession that ensures the continuation of the covenant (note, e.g., the book’s ending focus on the succession of Joshua in ch. 34—indeed, its recurring concern with succession [see 1:37–38; 3:21–28; 31:3, 7–8, 14, 23; and the immediate future expectation of a covenant ceremony in the land after Moses’ death in 11:29–32; chs. 27–28]). To put it another way, Deuteronomy is about the covenant that comes into effect upon the death of the covenant mediator: “It was the death of the covenant author that caused the covenant stipulations and sanctions to become operative” (ibid., 39–40, here speaking with reference specifically to Esarhaddon’s Numrud treaty.)

[8]    I think a better title, since it’s the one Scripture itself gives to them, is “The Ten Words.” In Exod 34:28, Moses insistently refers to what is written on the covenantal tablets as the “words of the covenant” (דִּבְרֵי הַבְּרִית), the “ten words” (עֲשֶׂרֶת הַדְּבָרִים). See also Deut 4:13; 10:4.

[9]    Verse 5 gives what is clearly meant to be only a representative example not an exhaustive listing; compare with a fuller listing both of instances of manslaughter and of murder in Num 35 (McConville, Deuteronomy, 310).

[10]  Interestingly, ANE laws address all manner of asylum seekers (runaway slaves, defecting solidiers, etc.), but biblical law focuses almost exclusively on killers. See Jonathan P. Burnside, “Exodus and Asylum: Uncovering the Relationship between Biblical Law and Narrative,” JSOT 34 (2010): 243–66, at 263, who notes this as part of his overall argument that biblical law is keyed to biblical narrative. Burnside argues that there are two paradigmatic biblical narratives of asylum seekers, which the laws of asylum must be read in light of—Moses seeking asylum from Pharaoh in the wilderness with Jethro, and Israel seeking asylum from Pharaoh in the wilderness at Sinai.

[11]  In Num 35, the Lord makes clear that the killing of the innocent, the violent shedding of their blood, pollutes the land (Num 35:33–34). The defiling, polluting power of innocent blood is an important thread in the Pentateuchal worldview. Note, e.g., in Gen 4:10 that it is the blood of innocent Abel that cries out to the Lord from the defiled ground. Additionally, a conceptual relationship may be discerned with the violent corruption that pollutes the earth in Noah’s days (Gen 6:11–13) leading to the need for a deluge of cleansing water. If the shed blood of the innocent is not met with justice, if it is left un-atoned for and its defilement not purged, then that’s a problem for Israel, who’s great privilege and joy is God’s presence dwelling in their midst in the tabernacle/land. For God will not dwell in a polluted and defiled house or a polluted land. The injustice of the spilling of innocent blood was a major theological crisis for Israel.

[12]  Some think he was the nearest kin of the slain, but it’s far from clear. See P. C. Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976), 266, and McConville, Deuteronomy, 311, for brief introductions. The same ambiguity is present in 2 Sam 14:4–11. In light of the cultural context, it seems safe to assume that the avenger of blood was typically male.

[13]  As part of the building of these cities, Israel is to “measure the distances” between the cities (19:3, ESV). The sense of תָּכִין in v. 3 is debated, with some interpreters thinking preparing/building of roads is more in view (see, e.g., NASB’s “prepare the roads”) than “measuring distances.” For discussion, see Gerhard von Rad, Deuteronomy, trans. D. Barton; OTL (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1966), 127; McConville, Deuteronomy, 307. McConville’s “fixing of the way” tries to split the difference between form and sense: “way” here indicates not material roads directly and “fixing” refers not only to the manufacture, but is a metaphorical reference to establishing the distance of the “way” (Deuteronomy, 307). This approach better aligns with the concern of the law for accessibility/proximity (ibid., 310; see below).

[14]  Additionally, there was also a preliminary hearing that was to take place at the city of refuge upon the arrival of one seeking asylum (see Josh 20:4). Cities of refuge were not to be indiscriminating shelters for every obvious criminal. Peter Leithart gets at the matter with a striking image: “In a 2002 editorial on the paedophilia/homosexuality crisis in the Catholic church, Charles Krauthammer recounted a story about a priest in Hobart, Australia. Many years ago, a rapist entered the church hoping for protection from the authorities. When the priest heard his story, he knocked the rapist out with a punch to the nose and then called the cops. I think that’s how cities of refuge were supposed to work” (“Church discipline,” Theopolis Blog, July 8, 2006, https://theopolisinstitute.com/leithart_post/church-discipline/).

[15]  Interestingly, in Num 35, it is not the “elders” but “the congregation” (הָעֵדָה) that is to conduct the trial (see also Josh 20:6).

[16]  The asylum would last, according to Num 35:25, 28 (also Josh 20:6), until the death of the high priest. The sacred character of this institution is indicated not only by this close connection to the life/death of the high priest, but also by the fact that the cities of refuge were Levitical cities: “The cities of refuge were then extensions of the altar as a place of asylum” (Kline, Treaty of the Great King, 102; cf. McConville, Deuteronomy, 309–10; Burnside, “Exodus and Asylum,” 261n25–26, who also addresses the question of the relation of the high priest to Levitical cities; see also below). Additionally, the concern to protect Israel as a whole (the land?) from blood guilt and pollution indicates that the institution is concerned with ritual defilement (see McConville, Deuteronomy, 311–12). The death of the unintentional killer at the hands of vengeful people would defile the land with innocent blood (this is more clearly stated in Num 35 than in Deut 19). Yet, it can also be noted that in any case of manslaughter, innocent blood has already been shed (though the killer is not guilty of murder), and there is a risk of impurity spreading because of it. Greenberg notes that “whenever an innocent man is slain the law considers the slayer guilty in a measure” (“The Biblical Conception of Asylum,” 127). As a telling case in point, Greenberg points to the apparent lack of retribution against the avenger should he overtake the manslayer “on the way” (expressly stated in Num 35:27), in contrast to the express bloodguilt on Israel should they not provide accessible cities of refuge (see Deut 19:10). Apparently the avenger in such a situation would not be considered a murderer or bloodguilty “because the manslayer was not guiltless” (ibid., 127). The point is set in great relief in the law about the goring ox in Exod 21:28–32: the ox, clearly without any criminal intent, nevertheless is objectively bloodguilty (see ibid., 128). In this light, the city of refuge “not only protects the refugee, but also quarantines him” until the death of the high priest (ibid., 312). Greenberg notes the importance of the fact that (unlike examples we can point to from Greek law) the defilement of shed human blood cannot be purged by animal sacrifice—no purification sacrifice is commanded in conjunction with manslaughter (even though there are purification sacrifices for unintentional sin more generally; see Lev 4). So how will the guilt/defilement of manslaughter be washed? By a death in kind (a human’s life for a human’s life), or by a representative death if the manslayer himself or herself is to go free. The high priest’s death fits the bill, for he “bears the iniquity” of all the people on his forehead (Exod 28:36) (see ibid., 130). On the rabbinic speculation about the possibly expiating death of the high priest, see ibid., 129–30, citing b. Makkoth 11b.

[17]  More generally, we might develop a bit of proverbial wisdom from this: “anger and haste are likely causes of injustice being done” (Christopher J. H. Wright, Deuteronomy, NIBC 4 [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1996; rear., Grand Rapids; Baker, 2012], 223).

[18]  As noted above (see n. 16), neither here nor in Num 35 are sanctions stated against the avenger of blood who should overtake the manslayer before due process takes place. As Gerhard von Rad well expresses, there is a right of sorts here on the part of the avenger of blood, a need for “vengeance” or restitution (Deuteronomy, 128). To state it differently, while Deuteronomy’s law enacts the concern that the “innocent blood” of the manslayer not be unduly shed, still innocent blood has already been shed. Surprisingly, the avenger would be enacting a measure of justice, though not fully or with perfect equity. The point here is that the avenger of blood on his own is not the best judge of how the necessary expiation should take place. Precisely because the avenger on his own might be overtaken with passion in a way that renders him unfit to see this responsibility through with proper equity, he must be involved with other individuals and institutions to better enact an overall just process (see also McConville, Deuteronomy, 311). With these things in view, we may agree with Kline: “The institution of the avenging of blood by the kinsman redeemer was not necessarily indicative of an ethically primitive society but only of a less complex and less centralized form of government” (Treaty of the Great King, 102).

[19]  See von Rad, Deuteronomy, 127; Wright, Deuteronomy, 223; cf. Miller, Deuteronomy, 145–46.

[20]  These three west of the Jordan are in addition to the three mentioned earlier in Deut 4, which were already built on the east of the Jordan.

[21]  On the interesting expectation of expanded borders, see von Rad, Deuteronomy, 125; Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, 267. The tension between expectation for full possession in one stage and a two-stage reception of the inheritance (McConville, Deuteronomy, 227), and the conditioning of full inheritance on an obedience which doesn’t come fully in the Hebrew Scriptures (ibid., 311), may have significant implications for larger biblical theological understanding of the ways of God and the fulfillment of Christ.

[22]  It is, in fact, the arrangement for accessible cities of refuge throughout the land that distinguishes this law from the parallel laws in Exodus and Numbers (see Greenberg, “The Biblical Concept of Asylum,” 125). Many think the institution has to do with the centralization of the cult. The prohibition of local sanctuaries meant the loss of a common and accessible source of asylum—namely, local altars (cf. Exod 21:12–14; see von Rad, Deuteronomy, 128–29). The connection to the altar law is important. As Burnside notes, the cities of refuge (Levitical cities) were themselves shaped like altars, being large squares according to Num 35:4–5 (“Exodus and Asylum,” 260–61n24). But see Greenberg, “The Biblical Conception of Asylum,” for cautions against pressing this matter too hard (e.g., surely an altar was never a place where one sought to remain in asylum).

[23]  This is pointed out by McConville, Deuteronomy, 312.

[24]  See Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy, 332, for the possibility that these boundary stones had a person’s property rights and maledictions against movers of the stone inscribed on it.

[25]  This law, so clearly drawing on the Eighth Word, is one among several factors that lead me to diverge from the general drift of this series in taking the covenant stipulations section of Deuteronomy (chs. 5/6–26) as moving, seriatim, through the Ten Words. It is a commonly enough held position among interpreters, leading many to associate ch. 19 with the Sixth Word (e.g., John Walton, “Deuteronomy: An Exposition of the Spirit of the Law,” Grace Theological Journal 8 [1987]: 213–25, at 218; Wright, Deuteronomy, 222). But even Wright admits that the “organization is not overtly tidy,” the (indirect) connection being clear at the beginning of the chapter, with only “some links” in 19:15–21, and with hints at other Words (Eighth and Tenth in 19:14; Ninth in 19:16–19) in the mix (Deuteronomy, 222; for the connection of 19:16–19 with the Ninth Word, see also Miller, Deuteronomy, 144). Indeed, “The chapter is about judicial process as much as about homicide” (McConville, Deuteronomy, 309). Thus, the proposed use of the order of the Decalogue as a master structuring device in Deut 6–26 does not hold in the details of ch. 19. More generally, to get it to work (i.e., to see Deut 6–26 moving in order through the Ten Words) requires, at many points, so generic a description of each Word that the Word under consideration arguably could be seen as validly being explicated in most any section of Deuteronomy.
         As I understand Deuteronomy, chs. 5–26 form the basic law-code (the covenant responsibilities laid on Israel, the stipulations of the covenant) in the overall covenant document/constitution which Deuteronomy as a whole is (i.e., discourse; looking at the narrative as a document) and in the covenant renewal ceremony which Deuteronomy launches (i.e., story; looking around in the narrative, within its story-world). Within this law-code, the covenant at Sinai is rehearsed with its central summary statement in the (newly applied or developed) Ten Words in ch. 5. Then, as I understand the Ten Words, the two angles on the central summary are spelled out in turn: love to God and love to neighbor (sometimes divided into Words 1–4 and 5–10), or the Greatest Commandment and the Second Commandment (cf. Dale C. Allison Jr., “Mark 12.28-31 and the Decalogue,” in The Gospels and the Scriptures of Israel, ed. C.A. Evans and W.R. Stegner, JSNTSup 104 [Sheffield: Sheffield, 1994], 270–78, who argues that Jesus may be assuming a twofold division of the Decalogue when he identifies the First and Second Commandment). Love to God is undertaken in the expansive and exhortative Deut 6–11 (note the framing of the section with the largely repetitive chs. 6 and 10–11: there are repeated refrains to love and serve the Lord your God with all your heart and soul [compare 6:5 with 10:12, 11:1, 13], to keep all the statutes and commands [compare 6:2 with 10:13, 11:1, 6, 13), and to teach these things to children [compare 6:20–25 with 11:18–21]). In a word: love God. Then chs. 12–26 expand on the flip side of the coin (which coin is the Ten Words): love neighbor. The mundane, practical, logistical concerns of worship, political life, family life, interpersonal responsibility, economic and vocational need, etc., in chs. 12–26 demonstrate in an emphatic fashion the embodied, practical, everyday dimensions of neighbor-love. My understanding of the structural and thematic breakdown of Deut 5–26 can be laid out visually as follows:

         A: The Heartbeat of the Covenant at Sinai: The Ten Words (5:1–36)
         B: The Diastole of the Covenant: The Greatest Commandment (hortatory address in 6:1–11:32)
         C: The Systole of the Covenant: The Second Commandment (specific stipulations and judgments in 12:1–26:15)

In this scheme, we have every reason to expect that several of the Ten Words are drawn upon in chs. 6–26, but no need to assume from the outset that they will be drawn upon in literary order. Rather, the Decalogue is expanded upon, and the document of Deuteronomy develops, thematically. The “argument” or general “topic” of the each subsection is determinative of which of the Ten Words is addressed.

[26]  Later Scriptures show that God abhors not just the moving of stones but all swindling of others out of land: see Hos 5:10; Isa 5:8; Mic 2:2; Prov 23:10; Job 24:2–4.

[27]  The “inventiveness of human wickedness,” to use McConville’s words, is stunning (Deuteronomy, 314). Sin doesn’t destroy the goodness of human creativity; it only bends good human creativity to godless ends.

[28]  McConville, Deuteronomy, 309, 314.

[29]  Wright, Deuteronomy, 224. The severity, and theological-covenantal nature, of the offense is indicated later in Deut 27:17, when God declares nothing short of the covenantal curse upon one who would sin in this way.

[30]  When the prophets condemn the seizure of property (see n. 26 above), often in the same breath they condemn Israel of grinding the faces of the poor.

[31]  There is some debate on whether the falseness in view in v. 16 is the witness’s or is alleged of the accused. For discussion, see McConville, Deuteronomy, 308, who favors the former.

[32]  Wright, Deuteronomy, 224.

[33]  Consider, e.g., the effect of the lone word of accusation wielded against Joseph by Potiphar’s wife.

[34]  Thus, in Miller’s words, “The requirement of two or three witnesses is not an infallible guarantee of justice, but it is a foundation stone of any system designed to maintain justice in the human community” (Deuteronomy, 144). Miller’s passing admission that this law is “not an infallible guarantee of justice” is crucial, for as we will see below the law itself was powerless against creative maneuvering around the law.

[35]  As Wright comments, “Possibly no other OT text has been the victim of more misunderstanding and exaggeration than this one, the lex talionis, or law of retribution” (Deuteronomy, 224).

[36]  Similarly, but on the flip-side, the law would seek to cut off favoritism by condemning an lessening of penal justice out of foolishly indulgent desire (see Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus: A Book of Ritual and Ethics, CC [Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2004], 293, quoting J. E. Hartley).

[37]  See also McConville, Deuteronomy, 313; Wright, Deuteronomy, 225–26.

[38]  This is not to mention the contrast between the law of talion in Scripture (see also Exod 21:23–24; Lev 24:10–23) and ANE laws where the penalty for unlawful killing was frequently commutable to monetary fines, which would have been to the emphatic advantage of the wealthy over the poor. See Milgrom, Leviticus, 293, 295; also Greenberg, “The Biblical Concept of Asylum,” 129. Neither is it to point out the function of the talion principle applied in the immediate context against bearers of false witness. As we’ve seen, “eye for eye” (poetic justice) is to be enacted against false witnesses, with the result that, according to v. 20, the temptation to bear false witness is curbed. But we’ve also seen that bearing false witness would have been a particularly easy way for the powerful to get the upper-hand on the disadvantaged. So doling out poetic justice against false witnesses is, at the same time, God’s longer term strategy of mercy to protect the weak.
                  This is to advance Wright’s helpful discussion one further step: where Wright rightly calls our attention to “the ethos of compassion, generosity, concern for the weak, and restraint of the powerful that pervades the book” and thus apparently balances out the strictness of the law of talion (Deuteronomy, 226), I would suggest that the law of talion itself fits into that larger project and concern as a means to the end of a just and merciful society.

[39]  1 Kgs 21:3.

[40]  1 Kgs 21:19. We could note another, more subtle and ironic, undermining of God’s intentions to justice in the cities of refuge legislation of Deut 19. God called for the building of cities of refuge as part of a larger project of protecting the innocent and bringing the guilty to just judgment. What do many generations in Israel do? They make of the city of Jerusalem a mock city of refuge, a city that provides asylum to murderers not to manslayers. The altar and temple in Jerusalem was treated as though it were a blank check to live unjustly, oppressively, full of inequity and violence and un-love outside of the temple precincts. That was Jeremiah’s great rebuke of Jerusalem in his day in Jer 7: the people had made Jerusalem a mock city of refuge for murderers and oppressors and unrepentant transgressors; they twisted the law and order of God so that Jerusalem ceased providing refuge for the innocent and became instead a den for thieves.

[41]  It’s really important to note that, as the narrative presently stands, Jezebel seems to act unilaterally in the actual scheme (see 1 Kgs 21:7–16). Ahab apparently didn’t know how Naboth came to his demise. We might assume that he was culpably ignorant (he could surely have surmised, had he taken the time), but that is precisely the point: he was culpable. He was implicated by virtue of relationship and enmeshment in a corrupt system. By virtue of his unquestioned happy benefitting from the system, Ahab had responsibility in all the crimes. We would likely all agree that Ahab was guilty, but it’s important to note why and how. For it is not uncommon today, I think, to plead innocence because we “didn’t know,” or because our hands aren’t directly in this or that matter, or because “we can’t be held responsible for systems and systemic injustice,” and “systemic injustice isn’t even a real thing!,” etc., just as Aaron in the shadow of the golden calf “evades responsibility by blaming the social forces bearing on him and disavowing any participation in the manufacture process” (Brian Brock, Christian Ethics in a Technological Age [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010], 229). The plurality of the story of Ahab and Jezebel (that they were both involved, in different ways, and were both guilty) is instructive.

[42]  This is not to say that Ahab and Jezebel are looking to Deuteronomy (or, as is more commonly argued, to the Book of the Covenant, specifically Exod 22:28 at 1 Kgs 21:10). More likely, they are drawing upon custom and legal tradition which is reflected in the Book of the Covenant, as would likely have been the standard procedure of all judicial proceedings in ancient Israel. There is little evidence to suggest that the biblical documents functioned as statutory law, drawn upon by judges in legal proceedings; more provocatively, there is reason to believe that biblical law itself (e.g., the Book of the Covenant, Deuteronomy) were never intended as that kind of literature. See generally, among others, Michael LeFebvre, Collections, Codes, and Torah: The Re-characterization of Israel’s Written Law, LHBOTS 451 (New York/London: T&T Clark, 2006), and see 35–36 for specific discussion of 1 Kgs 21. Early on von Rad recognized that, in light of the curious inconsistency of kinds of laws, of overlapping and divergence from the Book of the Covenant, and of the hortatory nature and rationales of the laws, that “it would be … inappropriate to call Deut. 12–26 a legal corpus” (Deuteronomy, 19).

[43]  Hab 1:4.

[44]  Ps 27:12.

[45]  Ps 58:2.

[46]  Note, e.g., the groaning of creation in Rom 8:18–23 (cf. Jer 12:4, 11), and the response of the non-human creation to the future fully consummated reign and just judgment of God in the Royal Psalms (Pss 93–99) which indicates their present yearning.

[47]  One recent headline from McHenry County is noteworthy: see Elena Ferrarin, “Four Charged in Human Trafficking Sting in McHenry County,” Daily Herald, February 2, 2020, https://www.dailyherald.com/news/20200207/four-charged-in-human-trafficking-sting-in-mchenry-county. The reality is closer to home still, as conversations with organizations such as CareNet and Restoration61 make clear. Even the basic statistics on human trafficking in Chicagoland and worldwide that are listed on Restoration61’s homepage are eye-opening (see https://restoration61.org).

[48]  The reconciling of Christ’s demand of forgiveness with the retribution expected in the law of talion is often made by way of contrasting the supposed “personal relational” sphere of Christ’s demand with the law court/governmental sphere of the law of talion. This attempt is only partially successful, at best (see McConville, Deuteronomy, 314).

[49]  For the following arguments about Matt 5:38–39, see Glen H. Stassen, “The Fourteen Triads of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:21–7:12),” JBL 122 (2003): 267–308, at 279–82; and, more accessibly, Peter J. Leithart, The Four: A Survey of the Gospels (Moscow, ID: Canon, 2010), 141–47.

[50]  For the sake of time, we will not fill in the cultural significance of Jesus’ specification of the right cheek, but it is illuminating of the intensity of the moment. If you’re facing me, and I slap you, what are the possible ways I, facing you, could slap your right cheek? It’s most likely going to need to be either with my left hand, or with a back-handed slap. Either way, in ancient cultures, it would be a deep and great insult, dishonor, and offense.

[51]  Matt 5:17–20.

[52]  In my opinion, Wright moves directly (and too hastily) to civic “application” of the principles, without addressing a biblical theological (Christological/ecclesiological) connecting point (see Deuteronomy, 223; see also 225 in connection with the call for a plurality of witnesses).

[53]  My articulation here has been greatly influenced by a sermon I heard N. T. Wright preach many years ago. For more detailed discussion of various points of connection, see W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison Jr., The Gospel according to Saint Matthew, ICC, 3 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988–1997), 3:517, who comment that Jesus’ actions in the Passion narrative are “the consequence and illustration of his own teaching, especially that in Matthew 5: Jesus lives his own speech.” Leithart also comments, “Nearly everything that Jesus mentions here [i.e., Matt 5:38ff.] happens to Him in his passion” (The Four, 147).

[54]  See Num 15:30–31.

[55]  In context, importantly, this is to be done in hope that the hardened sinner might come to their senses and repent!

[56]  For an excellent treatment of Pauline ethics in view of the law (and the OT Scriptures more broadly), see Brian S. Rosner, Paul, Scripture, and Ethics: A Study of 1 Corinthians 5–7, AGAJU 22 (Leiden: Brill, 1994).

[57]  I would add that even in Deuteronomy it is clear that God expects not a one-size-fits-all administration of “justice” which ends up only really serving the people who hold the punitive stick and not the great variety and diversity of the people of God as a whole, but a wise discerning of each situation (e.g., to carefully determine what kind of killing has taken place in the law on cities of refuge) so that a commensurate justice (a proportionate penalty, if need) may be determined upon.

[58]  If we feel that we don’t know how to lament, or what specifically to lament about, that’s why we gather together and recite psalms and learn songs of lament—we need to learn how. We need to be shaped by Scripture, its full witness, not just to cherry pick from it the things we think are “relevant” to life. We need to see through the spectacles of Scripture so that our vision of reality is in better focus, is more in keeping with how God sees the world.

[59]  It is something like this ecclesiological reality which is, I think, the point of the intriguing scene at Calvary between Jesus, his mother, and the beloved disciple (John 19:25–27).

[60]  Stanley Hauerwas, “Bonhoeffer: The Truthful Witness: Interview with Stanley Hauerwas,” Homiletics Online, http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/interviews/hauerwas.asp, last accessed August 11, 2016. One response, quite prevalent in certain circles, which I have not directly addressed in this sermon but have had always on my radar is reflected in these comments from a Southern Baptist Convention teacher about weighty issue of world peace and justice: “If American Christians remain silent in their day of good news, will not punishment overtake them?” That is, if we don’t speak out and labor with all our energy and might to change this issue of injustice, what right do we have to claim the name Christian? The quotation comes from a 1968 periodical, and the issue being addressed is American involvement in the Vietnam War (Erwin L. McDonald, “Bibles or Bombs,” Arkansas Baptist 67 [11 January 1968], 3, qtd. in David E. Settje, Faith and War: How Christians Debated the Cold and Vietnam Wars [New York: New York University Press, 2011], 77). The issues change—from the Vietnam War, to the crisis of nuclear bombs, to new matters, some of which have been highlighted above (the travesty of world hunger, the murder of the unborn, the devastation of ecosystems, the horror of human trafficking, the threat of “big government,” etc.). But a basic tenor and posture is largely reproduced—namely, one of absolute urgency and rhetoric that implies that everything hangs on this one issue, that the world can only be changed for the good if we get our act together, that your authenticity as Christian is proven or disproven by the level of anguish you display in word and deed about the movement (which usually means, “will you display the same level of anguish as I do?”).

       There is, I believe, much that is understandable and, indeed, admirable in this fervent and zealous response to the issues of brokenness and evil that stand before us. They are hugely important. They are profoundly lamentable. God is deeply passionate to end chaos and brokenness and injustice and devastation. But I think that there are a number of problems with how this zeal is manifested, about the heart-inclinations that tend to be tied together with this fervor and rhetoric. Or at least, I think this category of response is prone to some pitfalls—things like constant anxiety veering toward burnt-out cynicism; a tendency toward advertising what we stand for and a loving of the thought of justice that far outruns our actually living a life and lovingly enacting justice to the real people in front of us; historical amnesia about God’s work in and through his people; an incipient self-righteousness that frequently returns to the thought, “Well, thank God I am not like these other so-called Christians with their heads in the sand about what really matters.” (It is perhaps not insignificant that “social justice fundamentalism” is eerily mirrored in the same kinds of moves and pitfalls on the opposite end of the [political] spectrum in classic fundamentalism that fears a “social gospel”—e.g., absolute urgency about protecting “the truth,” a tendency toward advertising what “we stand for” theologically with an understanding that frequently doesn’t catch up, historical amnesia about God’s work in and through his people, and an incipient self-righteousness that frequently returns to the thought, “Well, thank God I am not like these other so-called Christians who foolishly let the tail wag the dog and lose “the gospel.” If the two seem uncannily like two sides of the same coin, then they very well may be. I’m tempted to name the coin “modernity” and “political liberalism.”)

       We could expand on each of the above-mentioned pitfalls, but the most important matter is, I believe, this. To say or imply that everything hangs in the balance on our response to this or that “issue” (pick the issue), to say or imply that every waking thought and activity must be bent in the service of the “issue,” runs the risk of treating the “issue” the sovereign lord of history rather the God who reveals himself in Jesus Christ. It’s like a totalitarian dictatorship, which is helpfully explained by one theologian in this way:

[I]t is the character of totalitarian regimes to make every aspect of life a matter of loyalty to the state, the party, or the cause. There are, or there should be, no indifferent actions. Indeed, one of the ways by which totalitarians tend to convince their followers of the righteousness of their cause is exactly to turn what were once matters of indifference into significance political decisions. (Stanley M. Hauerwas, “Taking Time for Peace: The Ethical Significance of the Trivial,” in Christian Existence Today: Essays on Church, World and Living In Between [Durham, NC: Labyrinth, 1988], 255)

       No one and nothing has the prerogative to dictate the meaning and worth of every detail of life except Christ alone. Christians who submit to only one true King, glorious in goodness and justice, must steadfastly reject all totalistic outlooks on and posturing in life. To seek to effect change by first turning to other means of power is to follow in the ways of the kingdoms of the world, however baptized with Christian lingo it may be. Furthermore, I’m increasingly persuaded that any attempt to “change the world” that does not start in receiving the life that is already beginning in the church—that does not start in rest and trust and celebration and hope in the gospel—will inevitably deteriorate into unquenchable anxiety or burnout or self-righteous anger at everyone else who “just doesn’t get it.”

       It is precisely by resting and celebration that we not only bear witness to the true power for change, but also advance that power in the world. Strange as it may sound, a telltale signal of our true “seriousness” and commitment to “social justice” turns out to be not undying activism, but the freedom to take time for celebration/worship with and as the people of God (see, e.g., the poignant story told about refugee workers in Latin America told in Christine D. Pohl, Living into Community: Cultivating Practices That Sustain Us [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012], 55–57). Worship proves to be not an alternative to “war,” but the ultimately victorious manner of warfare for the people of the one true and victorious King. To say it differently, in aiming at world-change, while letting worship fade to the periphery, we lose any possibility of “changing the world” for simply reproducing more of it. To aim first and only at worship of King Jesus, who has already changed and is changing the world, surprisingly overflows the borders of the church for the transformation of societies. The latter comes precisely by not aiming at it, as it were. The early church is arguably an excellent case in point. They overturned the way of Caesar (I have in view not only the obvious fact of Christendom, but other remarkable widespread cultural transformations such as the widespread sea-change in infanticidal practices) not by aiming at that overturning (“changing culture/the world”) but by liturgical commitment and enactment and service of the outcast that flowed from that engagement. Instead of directly confronting the lord and savior Caesar or trying to change his legislation (nowhere, e.g., does Paul or James or Jesus ever say, “Let’s make sure we change Rome! Let’s transform the Roman Empire! Let’s get focus on getting new and better laws in the Empire”), the early church worshiped the one true Lord and Savior. And the effect was to dethrone Caesar and his ways.

[61]  See 1 Cor 15:58.