How do we best understand the relationship between the Old Testament and the New? Even this traditional way of phrasing the matter – “old” as opposed to “new” – quite likely distorts the matter… as many historical atrocities attest. There are plenty of other unfortunate stereotypes. Unfortunately, I encounter virtually every semester the caricature of an “old testament god” of wrath and anger contrasted with a god of love – as if one finds no love in the relationship between God and Israel, and as if no words of wrath ever emerge from the mouth of Jesus. Political versus spiritual, ceremonial versus moral – the list can go on.
Any single understanding risks flattening out the complexity. However, one could do worse than promise and fulfillment. Such a claim underscores continuity, rather than differences. Such a claim rests on an insistence that the basic dynamic of Scripture, of a covenant between God and God’s people, is continuous. And such a claim denies any supposed ethical binary (though of course Jesus does engage in some interesting and significant interpretations of Law). On the eve of Christmas, this week’s readings surely bring out the great continuities.
The first reading stirs us by its mention of Bethlehem, but more importantly points out what is promised for Bethlehem: Israel’s new king, whose rule will be everlasting and will extend to all the nations. Such a rule will ultimately result in “peace” – a promise that is yearned for in the Holy Land no less in the prophet’s time than it does today. That this peace comes about through the establishment of rule is very much fulfilled in Christ. Christ does rule over all the nations, as we recalled a few weeks ago in the feast of Christ the King. The baby who is coming is not simply about some kind of interiorized peace. It is meant to make peace in the world.
Interestingly, the reading from Hebrews might suggest much more discontinuity – until one realizes that the author is not really quoting Jesus, but rather Psalm 40. The idea that God desires “mercy, not sacrifice” (Hosea), and that sacrifices are an unpalatable alternative to actually doing God’s will (Isaiah), are all over the Old Testament. Certainly, whatever the mysterious historical context for this letter, Hebrews is interested in a certain discontinuity with one understanding of God’s will in relation to the temple system. But this dissatisfaction is hardly a novel concept; it permeates the Hebrew Bible itself. Christ’s sacrifice is the one God truly wants: to do the will of the Father.
Thus, the first two readings promise Israel its ultimate king and high priest. And what does that look like as it comes? We can think about Luke’s gospel as the very unexpected, very humble context in which the promise is going to be fulfilled. It comes about through the Baptist and the son of Mary. This may be unexpected, but it is not at all discontinuous. For what sections of Israel’s history would lead us to think that the fulfillment of all of God’s promises would come about in exactly the people and places we imagined? Quite the contrary. From Abraham onward, the story is one unexpected emergence after another. That’s not a sign of God’s incoherence, but a lesson for our own. As we approach Christmas, we may think we know exactly what to expect. And in one overall sense, we do: God’s promise will reach fulfillment. But what this will look like? We don’t know. Not what we expect. Except maybe one thing: it’s about peace.
