It’s been a cold winter in Northeast Indiana, and though our snowfall is a bit below average, we’ve had enough that we’ve needed to keep the snow shovel handy.
As is the case in many places, our municipal code requires accumulated snow to be removed from the sidewalks in front of our houses within 24 hours after the storm has ended its dump. I’m usually out within an hour, which is not the case with many of our neighbors. It seems that some of our neighbors have adopted the snow removal philosophy we often heard when we lived in the real snow country of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan – “spring will come soon enough.”
I make no apologies for my fastidious adherence to the municipal code. Getting the snow off the sidewalks and driveway is not only the right thing to do, it is the safe thing to do.
My problem is not our snow-free concrete. My problem is my humility-free attitude. Like someone with a “Love Spoken Here” lawn sign, I use our clean sidewalks to signal my virtue as compared to my neighbors with the icy and slushy mess they call their driveway and sidewalks.
A lack of humility – judgmentalism and pride – has always been the problem with strict adherence to codes of conduct. Snowy sidewalks ought to be cleared, and love should be spoken everywhere. But when I become proud of my snow shoveling prowess or my imaginary generosity and openness to others, I have a problem. Jesus said something about logs in our eyes (Matthew 7:1-5).
In the Reformed Tradition, we talk about the three uses of the law, that is, the law found in the Ten Commandments and its ethical and moral implications as articulated throughout the Old Testament. Yes, Jesus has fulfilled the requirement of the law on our behalf, but the law is still useful.
Second and third uses of the law first, and then the first.
The second use of the law is a civil use. Municipal codes should reflect the justice and love of kindness required by the law. Shoveling snow off an icy sidewalk is a practical manifestation of love for neighbor.
The third use of the law is personal. Though the Christian has been freed from the burden of the law, the law still serves as a teacher, instructing us in the ways of right living. My love of neighbor would require the snow to be removed from the sidewalk whether or not the municipal code required me to do so.
It is the first use of the law that can be most troubling. Writing of this first use, Calvin says, “The usefulness of the law lies in convicting man of his infirmity and moving him to call upon the remedy of grace which is in Christ.” (Institutes II.vii.8)
Neither the Old Testament law nor Jesus’ interpretation of it speaks to the issue of clearing sidewalks of accumulated snow within 24 hours of a storm’s passing. You can be sure, though, that were there a snow removal provision in the Torah, the Pharisees would have joined me with their shovels in hand within the first hour after the snow quit falling – maybe before the snow quit falling.
Jesus would not condemn my clean sidewalk, but he would condemn my hypocritical attitude. Like the Pharisees praying on the street corners in order to be seen by others (Matthew 6:5), as I compare our sidewalk to our neighbors’ sidewalk, I have received my self-congratulatory reward even as my heart remains a frozen slushy mess.
Maybe I’ll get one of those “Love Spoken Here” lawn signs for our snow-covered front yard. Or maybe I will lean on God’s amazing grace.
