The Burden of the Law
And other methods of transformation
Societies are built upon mutual agreements between members about what is good. These agreements guide individual and communal formation by establishing models, aims, and goals. As we become aware of the societies we are a part of (whether it be a family, a friend group, a team, a town, or a country) we learn about the agreements that govern them.
There are a few ways we do this.
There are social signals. The moment a child does something that causes a negative reaction from an elder, they learn that their action doesn’t align with the agreements of the group.
There are teaching moments. The moment an elder instructs a younger person as to a particular way, they provide explicit knowledge about a particular agreement.
There are laws. In larger and more “organized” societies – different than mere social relationships – laws are agreements that have been enshrined, often written, and distributed at a large scale to all members of a society.
These ways of discovery rely on interactive relationship to bring the reality of social agreements to life. There is action, and consequence. There is ongoing learning. But here, in the interaction between people, is where laws differ from other methods. The difference is significant and worth exploring.
Social signals and teaching moments are navigated through relationships that are known – family members, friends, team members, towns folk, and the like. The law is designed to spread across large distances and does not need knowledge of the person to be enforced. Rather than the relationship mediating the agreement, the law mediates the relationship.
Consider the difference between a parent, correcting their child for doing something they had been told not to, and a police officer correcting a community member for breaking a law. The interaction between parent and child (in the best of cases) is part of a longer relational context in which both parties are coming to know one another personally. The interaction between the police officer and community member happens more often only at the point of offense.
The parent is an authority figure and effectively the giver of the law to the child. In that position the parent can adjust the way they enforce, judge, or punish. The police officer is neither the giver of the law nor someone who can make any significant adjustments. The officer is the enforcer. This difference is important, in that parents can change the context for the benefit of the child (making enforcement more strict or lenient), while the police officer may not have that freedom (or responsibility).
The impersonal nature of the law (at least without direct interaction with the law-giver) limits its usefulness.
The burden of the law is the knowledge of how imperfect we are. The good the law does is tell us how far away we are from its fulfillment. For example, take a law that says, “Don’t steal.” Well, say you did. Now, because the law exists you can’t escape the fact that you have transgressed it. The law right there in writing.
With an impersonal law what you stole or why you stole it doesn’t matter compared with the fact that you did steal, and the law says you shouldn’t. Context never eliminates guilt. The stealing still happened. However, context can provide space for humanity. You are, after all, more than the sum of your actions (in this case, theft).
Someone who is seen only as a thief is well deserving of a thief’s punishment. Someone who is seen in the glory of the image of God that they bear might still be required to pay a thief’s punishment, but they retain their personhood in the process.
Notably, the burden of the law can be found in applications that aspire to do good (like being kind) as well as prevent evil (like not stealing). This is one of the more insidious natures of law-based systems. Even while attempting to compel goodness the law instills a burden rooted in condemnation.
To get out we might become expert arguers. Consider a parent who sets a law of cleaned rooms for their children. The parent becomes the judge of what a clean room means. The child becomes the defendant of their work in attempting to clean their room. The standard by which a clean room is judged becomes a point of argument. A lot is on the line. No clean room? The child is now a transgressor of the law. No matter how hard they tried. One spec in the wrong place, and the child is guilty. Then the punishment comes.
The thing is that people are imperfect beings by nature, and will, at some point, transgress the law. Therefore to remove the burden of being a transgressor one must logically remove all laws, or seek some other way.
Another way.
We might think of grace as starting with the acknowledgement of the space between the imperfect human and the perfection demanded by the law. Then, continuing and filling that space with love rather than condemnation. Grace is not necessarily giving someone a pass (although it might be in a given instant). Grace is not necessarily helping someone complete the task (although it might be that, too). What Grace does is fill the gap in ways that are good of the individual person in question. Drawing the person towards goodness, without ignoring the reality of the situation.
In a world governed by laws, grace in action might look ridiculous. But ask someone who has been the recipient of grace, and see the look in the eyes when they describe what it felt like. I contend that there is nothing more awe inspiring and truly transformative.