I have to
admit that I’ve never really understood why Noah’s ark is included in every
abbreviated children’s bible going. I mean, I guess it’s cute to have all those
animals. But, at is heart, the flood story is about the unrepentant wickedness
of humans, a level of wickedness that drove God to destroy almost the entire
world. What we heard as our first reading is God’s promise to never to do that
again. And, I have to admit, that sometimes when I read the news, I wonder if
God gets tempted to break that promise sometimes. But, he won’t, because God is
ever faithful.
But that
doesn’t mean that it musn’t be hard, to be God to such a people. Because God
also refuses to ever turn his face away. Seventeen people, teens and teachers,
shot dead this week. Wouldn’t you want to turn your face away? But, throughout
the Noah narrative, throughout the whole Bible, that’s never an option God so
much as contemplates. Yes, human sin makes God angry and sad and mournful. The
destroy-everything option (at least, everything except one family and a few
animals – some cute, some not so much), that was a live option for God. But not
caring? Not on the table.
No, God’s
faithfulness towards his creation leads him commit to covenant with his people,
to the deep kind of relationship that opens double gates on suffering, because
when those we love hurt, or when they hurt others, we hurt too. And more so for
God. So, God keeps reaching out. The covenant with Noah is one step in a long
ark of keeping reaching out, keeping being present to and nurturing and
cradling, and disciplining, a being dismayed at and, at times, in real though
limited ways, delighted by, this people God claims as his own.
And that
reaching out reaches its fullness in the person of Christ, who comes to us with
good news: The Kingdom of God is at hand! It’s near! But it’s not fully here, and
that hurts sometimes too. The violence that we know today, that God was
confronted by in the days of Noah, also confronted Jesus head on. In today’s
gospel, we have the off-hand comment that John the Baptist had just been
arrested. John, who was preaching the same message as Jesus starts with, was
arrested, and would soon be killed. Mark tells us of temptations by Satan in
the wilderness, but maybe the greatest temptation was the temptation to be
silenced by the evil John experienced, to let that deter him from bringing his
message of good news to us.
But, it
doesn’t. God won’t let it. God will never give up on us. The good news that God’s
kingdom is at hand is worth dying for. To proclaim loud and clear in our ears
that God is committed to us, that God refuses to turn away, that God refuses to
stop being pained by us… that’s so important that it’s worth dying for.
Genesis
doesn’t tell us if Noah tried to warn his contemporaries, but later Jewish,
Christian and Islamic tradition all affirm that he did. In fact, in the Qur’an,
Noah is one of the more important of the prophets. He knew that God had a
vision for our lives, a dream for us, a way of living that would make us truly
happy, a way of loving that would let us delight in each other, in ourselves,
in creation and in God forever. And he knew that the people around him weren’t
living that way. The rabbinic tradition is actually pretty strong on the idea that
Noah wasn’t living all that great a life himself, God was kind of grading on a
curve, and Noah was the only possible candidate for a passing grade. And I kind
of like that combination. That Noah dared to proclaim God’s message even though
he didn’t have it all together himself. Because that’s the only option I see
for me, for us.
Lent is
the perfect time for not having it all together. I hope that each of us here
slips up in our Lenten resolutions at least once this Lent. Because Easter
shouldn’t be a time of finally get that chocolate bar or whatever and patting
ourselves on the back at how good we are at self-control. No, Easter is a time
for marveling at what God has done in raising Christ, and what God promises to
do in raising us… and that includes recognizing that God’s going to take us a
long way.
Each
Lent, I try to fast from taking the best available parking space whenever I
park my car. To try to train myself to always remember that someone else is
more tired, has heavier bags and is in more of a rush to make their next
appointment, which is more important than mine. And the best thing about this
penance is that I notice how instinctively I guide my car toward that best
space. I notice how I’m not living that kingdom life Christ says it at hand.
And that would actually be incredibly scary, if I didn’t know that God is
committed to us. Committed to raise us.
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