Hebrews 8:1–13

Original Meaning

An Important Transition (8:1–2)

THESE TWO VERSES, therefore, make an effective transition because they point back to the writer’s discourse on the Son’s appointment while at the same time anticipating the primary themes of the coming discourse on the heavenly high priest’s superior service. Verse 1 begins by recapitulating the main theme of the previous section, proclaiming, “The point of what we are saying is this: We do have such a high priest.…” The word kephalaion can mean “summary” or “main point,” and the NIV ’s choice of the latter sense suits the context. The author, rather than summarizing the material just covered, focuses it in the phrase “such a high priest.”1

This high priest the writer identifies as he “who sat down at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven” (v. 1b). In 5:1–7:28, Psalm 110:4 garnered the lion’s share of attention as a priesthood in the order of Melchizedek held center stage. Now the author reintroduces Psalm 110:1, a verse already alluded to at Hebrews 1:3 and quoted at 1:13. Our high priest, who has been appointed to this position by an oath from God (Ps. 110:4), has also “sat down at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty.”

The wording of the allusion in our present passage, specifically the little phrase “in heaven,” serves the author’s purpose by mentioning a main motif of the following material: the location of the Son’s ministry in heaven. This position makes it superior to the earthbound priesthood of the old covenant. In contrast to that mortal ministry, the one who sits at the right hand serves in the heavenly tabernacle built by the hand of the Lord rather than by human beings. Although some commentators have interpreted “sanctuary” and “true tabernacle” to refer to two parts of the heavenly place of worship (e.g., the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place), the NIV rightly understands the two references as a hendiadys referring to the same place—the place where our high priest ministers in the presence of his Father.2

Bridging Contexts

AT FIRST GLANCEHebrews 8:1–13 may seem to present us with a fairly cut-and-dried exposition of the Old Testament, more suitable for the theology classroom than the hard concrete and hot asphalt of real-world Christian living. However, this text offers a unique opportunity to reflect on several issues of paramount importance to those who wish to live our faith authentically in our local and global communities.

The relationship between two religions. In Hebrews 7–10 two understandings of God’s dealings with his people intersect, collide, meld, or display a succession—depending on one’s interpretation—and the comparison of the two takes a singularly concise and lucid form in chapter 8: the old covenant vis-à-vis the new, and the priesthood of the tabernacle over against the priestly, heavenly Messiah. There can be no doubt that the author of Hebrews intended the comparison. Again and again he employs the term “better” to describe God’s revelation in Christ in contradistinction to the old covenant. If many commentators are correct, the author expressly utilizes the contrasts in order to bolster the commitment of Christians whose resolve was waning, who were tempted to return from the upstart, persecuted Christian community to the stable, long-standing traditions of Judaism proper.9 These believers were a minority society within society, and that minority status had its pressures from which some wished to escape.

This, of course, is not the struggle for most reading this commentary. Currently the Jewish population in the United States has dropped to 2 percent of the total and continues to decrease. The problem of maintaining Jewish culture and the distinctiveness of the Jewish religion has become a weighty issue for Jews in America.10 The call to embrace the Jewish religion may be an issue faced by one considering an interfaith marriage or a Christian struggling under minority status in modern-day Israel, but, for the most part, the tables have turned, so that the forces of change pull the other way. For many believers the “allure” of traditional Judaism is simply a nonissue. This may be why this middle section of Hebrews falls flat for some modern-day Christ-followers. The inferior status of the old covenant has become an axiom. When that approach to God is placed in a contest with Christianity, we perceive it as a batting competition between a little-leaguer and Babe Ruth, or a running match between a middle-aged jogger and Carl Lewis. Who can get excited about that?

At least two problems are inherent to this attitude. (1) This perspective belies a devaluation of what God did in the old covenant religion. How could God’s interaction with his people, his provision for a covenant with them, be seen as less than magnificent, even if it was provisional? Although his sermon is polemical, calling for an increased appreciation for new covenant doctrine, the author of Hebrews does not mean to suggest that the old covenant activity of God was base or useless; he is no Marcionite. The Old Testament revelation was, after all, a form of God’s speaking to humanity (1:1–2) and, for the author, a primary source of authority. No, it is the moon in relationship to the new covenant sun. In the darkness of the Old Testament era it shone brightly, giving insight to the holy, loving God of the universe; but this true, older light has now been eclipsed by the full intensity of revelation in God’s Son.

One way of more greatly valuing what God has done in his Son is to begin by reflecting on the tremendous importance of what God did in the old covenant. Remember, the original hearers of Hebrews probably were drawn in some way to the desirability of the Judaism of their day, and it is in that light they are addressed in Hebrews concerning the much greater value of the new covenant in Christ. We miss the intended impact of Hebrews 8 if we fail to grasp the value of traditional Judaism.

(2) In the comfort of our Christian communities, insulated by long-worn customs and closely networked relationships, we can lapse into an unhealthy form of triumphalism, which does not play well with those of the Jewish faith, with those of other religions, or with those who hold to a pluralistic worldview. Our haughty celebration of Christian superiority damages our witness to those who intuitively sense the contradiction between a prideful spirit and the humility preached by Christ. How should we relate, therefore, to those of the Jewish faith? At least two cautions demand attention as we seek to apply ourselves to that question.

(a) We need to remember that the supersessionism described in Hebrews 8 has been misused at times to justify anti-Semitism, a cancer long-lived in the church and chillingly crystallized in Nazi Germany:

Historians now recognize the importance of an anti-Semitism that long preceded Adolf Hitler and that was to considerable degree rooted in Christian doctrine and church practice. Centuries ago, having pushed the Jews beyond the boundaries of moral obligation, this Christian anti-Semitism prepared the ground for the more radical Nazi Jew-hatred that produced the Holocaust. Moreover, during the Holocaust itself this legacy of contempt for Jews was a crucial impediment to appropriate Christian behavior in occupied Europe. When the Nazis set to work annihilating Jews, they found a deep reservoir of scorn for Jews on which to draw in seeking collaborators in stifling action, or even sympathy, on behalf of their prey.11

The majority of those responsible for the Holocaust were associated with the Christian faith—having been baptized, instructed in the Christian way of life, and married in the church. Many Jewish survivor-victims of camps like Auschwitz and Dachau remembered with bitterness that their jailers celebrated Christmas and Easter.12 Thankfully this does not paint the whole picture. As detailed by David Gushee in his excellent book, The Righteous Gentiles of the Holocaust, there were Gentile rescuers motivated by their Christian faith to help the Jews. However, their numbers were too few to stem the tide of the murder of six million of Abraham’s descendants. The fact that Christian doctrine could be misused to such evil ends should give us cause to reflect deeply on the way we interpret and apply passages like Hebrews 8.

(b) There has been a growing tendency in some circles to misjudge the New Testament itself as anti-Jewish.13 For example, Samuel Sandmel has commented, “The New Testament is a repository for hostility to Jews and Judaism. Many, if perhaps even most, Christians are completely free of anti-Semitism, yet Christian scripture is permeated by it.”14 A more judicious and exegetically sound approach, however, understands early Christianity as one of several movements within Judaism in an intramural struggle vying for the hearts and minds of first-century Jews. The Jews of Qumran, the followers of the rabbis, the Sadducees, the Zealots, and other groups formed anything but a monolithic culture. The polemic one finds in the New Testament occurs in these various branches of first-century Judaism, each group presenting itself as the future of Judaism.15

We must remember that Jesus, his first followers, all the apostles, all the writers of the New Testament except Luke, and all Christians in the first years of the church were Jewish. When God introduced the concept that his new covenant was intended to include the Gentiles, it scandalized the first Christians as well as those holding to more traditional forms of Judaism (Acts 10:1–11:3; 15:1–2; 22:17–22). Hebrews, as we have seen, is permeated by the Jewish Scriptures and replete with examples of rabbinic forms of exegesis.16 Christianity is not a Gentile religion but a Jewish religion that has grafted in the Gentiles. It is polemical; but rather than being anti-Semitic, it is thoroughly Semitic, arguing for a specific interpretation of the history of God’s work among the Jewish people, and through them, the broader world. Any charge of anti-Semitism, while understandable (given the faulty interpretations of the New Testament propagated by some Christians through the centuries), has failed to study adequately the historical context in which the New Testament literature developed.

The nature of the new covenant. I teach New Testament survey classes every year and am surprised consistently at many students’ inability to explain concisely the essence of Christianity. Those with a history of church involvement may use descriptions such as “saved,” “born again,” “confirmed,” “I belong to the church,” or “I have a relationship with God,” but the thinking about what those references mean often comes across as mushy. Those with little church orientation misconstrue Christianity as essentially having to do with certain external practices, such as going to church, being moral, and being nice—all vitally important to the practice of Christianity but off the mark as adequate explanations of Christian faith. One of the most gratifying experiences for me as a teacher occurs when I receive a note from a former student who writes, “I finally understood the basic message of the New Testament for the first time.”

In Hebrews 8 we have a synopsis of the new covenant in prophetic form. Since the new covenant is true Christianity, this passage, although not exhaustive, sums up the essence of what it means to be a Christian. Thus as we move toward application, we do well to ask how our reflection on this passage might inform our thinking about the Christian faith and our explanation of that faith to others.

Let us consider what the new covenant is. It is, as expressed above, grounded in Judaism (8:10). Consequently, any adequate understanding of Christianity must grasp its Jewish roots and the implication of those roots for Christian belief. It is about the internalization of religion, not merely the external practice of religion (8:10). God’s laws are written on the minds and hearts of true Christians. As such, transformation and intrinsic motivation form powerful, foundational elements of Christian life and living. The new covenant is about relationship with God (8:10–11), not merely service for God. Finally, the forgiveness of sins forms the basis for this new covenant relationship (8:12).

Any conception of Christianity, therefore, that neglects the idea of sin and forgiveness has departed from the understanding of covenant expressed in Hebrews 8 via the prophet Jeremiah. So the new covenant, in essence, has to do with a relationship with God established by the forgiveness of sins, lived out by the internalization of God’s laws, and conceptually set against the backdrop of God’s working through the people of Israel.

We should also pause to reflect on misconceptions about Christianity that could flow from a misuse of this passage. (1) Christianity is not about the rejection of the Jewish people. When Jeremiah writes of those led out of Egypt, “I turned away from them” (8:9), he expresses the Lord’s disapproval of a specific group that had been disobedient, not the Jewish people as a whole. Note that the new covenant was prophesied as for “the house of Israel” (8:10).

(2) The new covenant does not mean that Christians need not give attention to external practices such as morality, kindness, and church attendance. Hebrews 8 cannot be used to suggest that believers should just “follow their hearts” in attempting to discern proper behavior. For example, the author of Hebrews later challenges his hearers to love fellow believers in tangible terms, to be sexually pure, and to reject greed (13:1–6). Believers are encouraged to perform “good deeds” (10:24; 13:16), with which God is well pleased.

(3) Closely related to the second caution, when Jeremiah proclaims that God forgives the wickedness of those under the new covenant and remembers their sins no more, this neither implies that true Christians cease from sin completely nor provides us with a license to sin. Elsewhere the author encourage us to “throw off … the sin that so easily entangles us” (12:1) and warns that a flippant attitude toward sin brings about imminent judgment (10:26–27). Moreover, that those under the new covenant “know the Lord” does not remove our need to grow in our relationship with God, since growth is a hallmark of true Christian faith (e.g., 5:11–6:3).

This understanding of Christianity in terms of covenant not only has implications for how we think about our faith but also for how we express our faith to others. Hebrews seeks to clarify Christianity for its audience in the hope of bringing about a decision. As we move to application, therefore, we should consider how the concept of covenant might be used to call people to a decision for Christ.

Contemporary Significance

THE MARGINALIZATION OF Judaism. One night recently I listened to an interesting television interview, conducted by John McLaughlin, with a prominent Christian leader and a specialist on Jewish culture in America. At one point in this congenial conversation the specialist, himself a Jew, noted with a smile that it “drives Jewish people crazy” when evangelical Christians suggest their religion has displaced Judaism. How, then, do we relate meaningfully to those who feel our religion, by definition, marginalizes their own? Let me suggest three important elements and, along the way, comment on appropriate applications of Hebrews 8.

(1) We must reject all forms of anti-Semitism and language that can be understood as anti-Semitic. Anti-Semitism is contrary to the most basic tenets of Christian doctrine. This rejection of anti-Semitism includes threads of hatred of Jews in older works of theology. For example, Martin Luther stands as one of my greatest heroes of the faith. Yet, toward the end of his life my beloved Luther (and I use the term “beloved” sincerely), that great Reformer, who institutionally and theologically changed the course of church history, demonstrated profound blind spots. Read his words from a work entitled, On the Jews and Their Lies:

God has struck [the Jews] with “madness and blindness and confusion of mind.” So we are even at fault in not avenging all this innocent blood of our Lord and of the Christians which they shed for three hundred years after the destruction of Jerusalem, and the blood of the children they have shed since then (which still shines forth from their eyes and their skin). We are at fault in not slaying them. Rather we allow them to live freely in our midst despite all their murdering, cursing, blaspheming, lying, and defaming.…17

Luther continues by suggesting that Christians set fire to synagogues or schools (and bury whatever will not burn), raze their houses, take their prayer books and Talmudic writings, threaten the lives of their rabbis who continue to teach, ban them from the highways, and confiscate their money.18 The Nazis later republished these grievous comments in support of their cause, and this should remind us of the imperfection of even our greatest theological heroes. As one friend noted, “It makes me wonder what corrupting blind spots we have today.”

This rejection of anti-Semitism also should jettison stereotypes drawn from culture (e.g., the “miserly Jew”) and language that can be misunderstood as anti-Jewish. As an example of the latter, the Gospel of John uses the designation “Jews” over sixty times, often with negative overtones when referring to the religious leaders who opposed Jesus (John 5:16–18). However, at times the word refers to the Jewish people as a whole, as when Jesus himself is included in the reference (4:22) or mention is made of “the feast of the Jews” (e.g., 5:1).

In the Fourth Gospel, one sees clearly the distinction between the Jewish people in general and the religious leaders in opposition to Jesus. In John 19:38, for example, Joseph of Arimathea, a Jew and religious leader himself (Mark 15:43; Luke 23:50), is said to be a disciple of Jesus secretly, “for fear of the Jews.” Was Joseph afraid of himself? No. Based on principles of sound interpretation we must read the designation “the Jews” in John most often as “religious leaders who opposed Jesus” in order to be true to what John meant to communicate. Thus, when we read to a congregation, “The Jews persecuted and sought to kill Jesus” (John 5:16–18), we must interpret the meaning for the hearers lest they think of the statement as a wholesale condemnation of Jewish people.

(2) We must think clearly about what we believe as Christians and proclaim the gospel boldly. Christian statesman John Stott has suggested:

One of the tragedies of the contemporary church is that, just when the world seems to be ready to listen, the church often seems to have little or nothing to say. For the church itself is confused; it shares in the current bewilderment, instead of addressing it. The church is insecure; it is uncertain of its identity, mission and message. It stammers and stutters, when it should be proclaiming the gospel with boldness. Indeed, the major reason for its diminishing influence in the West is its diminishing faith.19

Reflection on Christianity vis-à-vis Judaism has taken at least two directions in modern theological circles. (a) There are those who believe Christian theology must be redefined since, they suggest, “traditional orthodoxy” is inherently anti-Semitic. This has led one scholar, on the basis of Hebrews’ supersessionist theology, to suggest:

The author’s positive purpose was commendable, to contend that the grace of God through Jesus Christ is freely and utterly available to all sinners, and that the word of this grace is a sure and certain word on which we can rely. But we see two things clearly: the author’s constructive thesis calls for the dismantling of the negative, supersessionist framework in which it was cast lest the very grace it proclaims as radically free be conditional after all; and its displacement theology was to have a long and tragic history.20

In other words, the author of Hebrews meant well but mishandled his message by using a negative message about Jewish religion.

(b) The other direction, represented by many evangelicals, suggests both that we should nurture a deep respect for the Jewish people as people, honoring their role in history and biblical revelation, and that we should hold to an exegetically based interpretation of the New Testament. My understanding is that there are those in the Jewish community who do not want us to throw over our convictions but simply wish to be treated with integrity and respect. What might our doctrinal convictions look like, based on an exegesis of relevant New Testament passages?

(i) As we have already suggested in this commentary, there is continuity between the old covenant community and the new covenant age. In Luke 1:67–79 Zechariah points to the fulfillment of the old covenant in Christ. Paul can insist that God’s promises of the old covenant still stand for the Jews (Rom. 9:6) and that God has not rejected his people (11:1). He even proclaims that “all Israel will be saved” (11:24–26). God has entrusted the Jewish people with his revelation in the Scriptures (i.e., what we refer to as the Old Testament).

(ii) However, we must take the discontinuity between the covenants seriously. From the New Testament perspective—and this is unmistakably affirmed in Hebrews 8—Christ is at the center of the purposes of God. All the promises of God are answered “yes” in him (2 Cor. 1:20). The election of Israel was ultimately to find its fulfillment in the person of Christ (Gal. 3:16), as do all the great themes of the Old Testament.

It follows, then, that God’s people in both Testaments must be seen in light of Christ.21 All who reject Christ, Jew or Gentile, are under God’s judgment. For Jewish people specifically, they forfeit their membership in the “true Israel” (Rom. 9:6–7; cf. John 8:39–44). Paul says that the Jewish people will be saved (Rom. 11:25–26) and that they are “loved on account of the patriarchs,” from the standpoint of God’s choice (11:28). He means here that the salvation offered in Christ is promised first to them, if they will accept it, and then to the Gentiles. Their history with God is the foundation, but not the total picture of the ultimate Israel, which is not limited to one race but to all who are spiritually oriented in Christ.

I realize that the above will be unacceptable to many and that it represents a traditional (some will say naïve), supersessionist theology. However, I reject the notion that it implies a hatred or disrespect for the Jewish people—attitudes that I personally deplore. It is possible to love others and treat them with dignity even if we disagree with them. Such respect does not mean we must cease from our religious convictions and conversations with others who are open to such conversations. On the contrary, I believe we must share the gospel boldly to be true to the message of the New Testament; but respect does mean that we will conduct those conversations sensitively and “with grace” (cf. Col. 4:5–6), listening as well as sharing our own perspectives. Some may characterize my position as displaying “religious intolerance,” but:

religious tolerance is not always a sign of good will. It can be a sign of careless, perhaps hypocritical religious indifference of the most high-handed philosophic relativism. It can also be a mask behind which to hide down right malice. During the Nazi era, for example, arguments for Christian openness to other perspectives were used by German Christians in an attempt to neuter the church’s protest against the neopaganism of Hitler and his minions. The Confessing Church in Germany found in [John 10] a theological basis to stand against Hitler. There are times in which the only way to keep alive the nonvindictive, nonjudgmental, self-sacrificing witness of Jesus Christ is to stand with rude dogmatism on the rock that is Jesus Christ, condemning all compromise as the work of the Antichrist.22

Commenting on Christianity in first-century Asia, W. M. Ramsay noted that an “easy-going Christianity,” devoid of firm convictions and open to all religious positions as equally valid, “could never have survived; only the most convinced, resolute, almost bigoted adherence to the most uncompromising interpretation of its own principles could have given the Christians the courage and self-reliance that were needed. For them to hesitate or to doubt was to be lost.”23 Pluralism was as pervasive in the first century as it is in the present one. If those win the day who wish for a revision of Christianity as a “nondogmatic” religion, able to “fit in” with the plethora of religious systems offered modern humankind, then Christianity—that of the stripe proclaimed by Hebrews—will surely be lost. Thankfully, there are many who refuse to surrender that brand of Christianity and find in it their motivation for love, compassion, and respect for people of whatever religious conviction.

(3) We must hold our doctrinal convictions with an uncompromising commitment to a holistic, biblical morality. Our proclamation of the gospel will never be heard apart from lives and communities that reflect a resolute involvement in authentic, moral living. Jesus challenged his followers: “Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). He did not come to abolish the Law or the Prophets but to fulfill them; thus he praised those who kept the commandments (5:17–20). Jesus moved the orientation of moral living from mere outward actions to the internal condition of the human heart (5:21–48), telling believers to “be perfect” as the “heavenly Father is perfect” (5:48).

One way Paul speaks of moral or righteous living is in terms of a person’s “walk.” Believers are to walk in newness of life (Rom. 6:4), walk in love (14:15; Eph. 5:2), walk in good works (Eph. 2:10), and walk according to the Spirit rather than the sinful nature (Rom. 8:4; Gal. 5:16). There must be a distinct difference between the Christ-follower and people of the world, who live immoral lives (Eph. 2:1–2; 5:8). Believers are not to walk as the unwise, giving place to sexual sins, lust, evil desires, greed, anger, malice, slander, and lying, for example (Col. 3:5–10). John continues this motif by condemning a walk in darkness (1 John 1:6–7) and hatred of one’s brother (2:11) and by declaring that the person who claims to have a relationship with Christ ought to walk as he walked (2:6).

When non-Christians witness anger, greed, hatred, prejudice, dissension, lack of integrity, insensitivity, unconcern for the disadvantaged, and other such attitudes in those who wear the label “Christian,” our claim that the laws of God have been written on our hearts and minds (Heb. 8:10) does not ring true. A truly transformed life, on the other hand, can be a powerful witness to the veracity of the Christian message.

One obstacle in challenging ourselves to live morally comes from our preconceived notions about morality, which are particular to our various segments of modern Christianity. Half a century ago Dorothy Sayers lamented “the strangely restricted interpretation on such words as virtue, purity, and morality” in her era, observing: “There are a great many people now living in the world who firmly believe that Christian morals as distinct from purely secular morality, consist in three things and three things only: Sunday observance, not getting intoxicated, and not practicing—well, in fact, not practicing immorality.”24

In our day some churches have reinterpreted certain exhortations against extramarital sex as outdated, culturally bound commands of another century, while lifting high the standard of social responsibility to the poor and oppressed. More conservative churches may cry out against sins of sexual perversion and substance abuse, though neglecting a strong emphasis on racial injustice and care for the socially disadvantaged. In our American consumer culture one hears little (from the theological right or left) about the sins of gluttony and personal greed. They simply do not play well, even though they each have a place in biblical morality. We have what biblical scholars call a “canon within a canon,” taking a smorgasbord approach to what we deem “moral” or “immoral.” Yet if we claim to reflect the message of the Bible, is it not obligatory for us to take the whole of it seriously, even those parts not on the list of chief concerns in our immediate culture? To fail in such consistency will be to play the hypocrite in the eyes of those whom we wish to hear our message.

The externalization of Christianity. There seems to be an incessant pressure toward what might be called “the externalization of Christianity,” in which the moral dimension of the faith becomes defined wholly in terms of external activities, neglecting dynamics of the inner life. “The contrast,” writes Richard Foster, “between God’s way of doing things and our way is never more acute than in this area of human change and transformation. We focus on specific actions; God focuses on us. We work from the outside in; God works from the inside out. We try; God transforms.”25

The externals are vitally important; they may serve as markers of inner realities; yet, as Foster notes, they should be out-workings of those inner, spiritual realities, the laws written on the mind and heart. When the whole of Christianity becomes defined in terms of conformity to certain external associations or actions, we drift from the emphasis placed on the internal realities of kingdom thinking and living. We move from a consciousness of transformation to an attempt to orient our lives in various moral occupations.

Some Christians judge a person’s spirituality by their associations (e.g., what church they attend, to what political party they belong, or who they hold as close friends), their practices (e.g., their devotional habits, the way they dress, the entertainment they enjoy), or their passions (e.g., whether they share our concern for certain ministries or messages). Such judgments brush dangerously close to a legalism that runs contrary to the spirit of the gospel. Legalism takes one’s own associations, practices, and passions—perhaps true applications or expressions of biblical morality—and makes them normative for everyone else in the body of Christ. Life in the Spirit, on the other hand, places an emphasis both on clear biblical commands as well as on biblical principles and seeks to live out a broad-based morality revealed in Scripture under the leadership and power of the Holy Spirit.

The externalization of Christianity also takes place outside the body of Christ. Many in broader culture try to redefine our religion for us in terms foreign to the new covenant described in Hebrews 8. But Christianity cannot be conceptualized as merely a social association, a set of rules that may be incorporated into a pluralistic, global scheme of morality, a psychological pathology of guilt or gratification, or a mystical experience similar to those of other religions. No, biblical Christianity as described in Hebrews 8 must be understood minimally as involving the forgiveness of sins, a transformation of the inner life in accordance with the laws of God, and an intimate relationship with the living God. Certainly more can be said of Christianity, and the New Testament provides us with extensive development of these motifs. However, any definition of Christianity that neglects these realities must be considered suspect.

What do they hear? This brings us to a third point of application for Hebrews 8: How do we explain the gospel to those outside the faith? One night in Fort Worth, Texas, a little over a decade ago, I went to a party at a friend’s house and found those in attendance to be a delightful mix of Christians and non-Christians. I fell into a conversation with a young, single lady named Jill, who described herself as “Jewish by birth” and “atheist by religion.” We began to discuss movies we had seen, and Jill brought up The Exorcist, qualifying her appreciation for such horror films with, “But of course, I don’t believe in spirits.” To this comment I replied, “Jill, do you understand why you don’t believe in spirits?” Looking puzzled, she said, “Well, I don’t believe in spirits because they don’t exist”; to which I responded, “If they did exist, you could not see them, so how do you know?”

This led to a lively discussion of naturalism, which in turn led to a discussion of my worldview, Christianity. As I explained my understanding of the faith, I said at one point, “Jesus Christ wants a relationship with you.” Up to this point we were having a good conversation, but when I made that comment, I could tell Jill had a problem with it. I said to her, “That didn’t communicate, did it?” She agreed it did not. As we talked further I realized that for my friend—a young single quite involved in the party scene—the idea of “a relationship” with someone carried sexual overtones. At that point I backed up and came at my explanation from another angle.

In her book Out of the Salt Shaker, Rebecca Pippert challenges us to translate our Christian “God talk” into words understandable to the uninitiated. In using good, biblical terms like “born again,” “grace,” and “redemption,” and phrases from Christian culture such as “a personal relationship with Jesus” and “asking Jesus to come into your heart,” we can inadvertently confuse our hearers and obscure the message. 26 This does not mean that we should refrain from using biblical language, but that we should translate, explain, or illustrate concepts with which our hearers might not be familiar.

The concept of covenant can be a confusing term for those not familiar with biblical lingo, but I have found it a valuable tool for communicating the message of the gospel. Most people in our world understand the concept of a meaningful, binding agreement. When I speak about covenant to my New Testament classes, I use several analogies. For example, I tell the students about when my wife and I bought our home. In a lawyer’s office we sat across from the woman from whom we bought the house. The lawyer was to our right, at the end of the table, and led us through a host of forms that would make our “agreement” binding. We agreed to certain terms, such as how much we would pay, and the seller agreed to certain terms, such as when we could occupy the house. Both parties signed forms sealing the agreement.

The concept of “a meaningful agreement” also can apply to relationships, such as a wedding. When my wife and I got married, we said vows expressing our lasting commitment to each other. At the appropriate point in the service the minister asked, “Do you, George, take Pat this day to be your wife? Do you turn from a life of singleness to hold to her and her alone as your life partner and closest friend?” I responded, “I do.” After the same had been repeated with Pat, he continued, “Then will you, George, serve Pat, putting her needs before your own? Will you make the choices necessary to nurture your love for her? Will you be faithful to her and stay pure in your relationship with her? Will you, by God’s help, love her in such a way that she will continue to grow in her relationship with her heavenly Father …?” I answered, “I will.” These questions were also put to Pat, and she too affirmed her commitments. We then exchanged rings as symbols of our covenant.

When we speak of God and a person’s relationship with him, analogies break down sooner or later; yet such analogies may prove helpful as a beginning point for a non-Christian struggling with certain theological ambiguities. Using Hebrews 8 we can explain that God offers us a “meaningful agreement” with himself—that he agrees to be our God and to allow us to know him. God agrees, furthermore, to transform us in our hearts and minds, providing us with intrinsic motivation for doing his will. Finally, he commits to forgive our wickedness and forget our sins. This “meaningful agreement” is the gospel in a nutshell.

Hebrews 8 does not speak directly of our response to God’s offer of covenant by repentance and faith.27 However, this passage, with its quotation of Jeremiah 31:31–34, provides an excellent beginning point for sharing the good news that God wants us to be in a committed relationship with him; and it is this relationship that forms both the foundation and essence of a superior way of living.

Original Meaning

Introduction on Christ’s Superior, High-Priestly Ministry (8:3–6)

AT 5:1, THE opening verse on Christ’s appointment to high priesthood,3 the writer of Hebrews stated, “Every high priest is selected from among men and is appointed to represent them in matters related to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.” Now with 8:3, the start of the section addressing the Son’s superior offering, he reiterates the thought expressed by 5:1. Here, however, he places emphasis on the required need of an offering: “Every high priest is appointed to offer both gifts and sacrifices, and so it was necessary for this one also to have something to offer.” These two verses (5:1 and 8:3) form parallel introductions to the author’s sections on the “appointment” and the “superior offering” respectively.4

In 8:4–5 our writer continues to smooth his transition from the previous chapter by noting points of contrast between the Levitical priests and the exalted Son; yet the focus here rests on a differentiation between the two locales of their ministries, that is, the heavenly and earthly realms. In establishing this contrast the author notes again that the high priest according to the order of Melchizedek does not fit with the priests of the old covenant. Their system was earthly, and their offerings were presented in accordance with the law (v. 4). Furthermore, the tabernacle at which they served was but a copy, or shadow, of the true place of worship in heaven (v. 5).

This assertion finds support from the book of Exodus, where the Lord told Moses, “See to it that you make everything according to the pattern shown you on the mountain” (8:5; cf. Ex. 25:40). The old covenant tabernacle, sanctioned as it was by God, can only be seen as an imperfect copy of the real thing, since human beings constructed it. That it constitutes a “shadow” suggests the earthly sanctuary mimics enough of the original to point God’s people to greater, heavenly realities. Nevertheless, since it is an earthly structure, it belongs to a realm that is passing away.5 Since the old covenant priests were limited in their effectiveness by their mortality (cf. 7:11–28), the old covenant place of worship must be seen ultimately as an ineffectual copy of the heavenly reality. Consequently, “the ministry Jesus has received is superior to theirs” (8:6), and this superiority of his ministry as mediator corresponds to the superiority of the new covenant over the old. The writer of Hebrews now demonstrates that the new covenant “is founded on better promises” through his quotation of Jeremiah 31:31–34.