Lent is not tidy, because it faces us with the effects of
sin. This year Lent begins with timeless stories of floods –
and therefore mud everywhere – temptation, wild animals, and
a wilderness. Water and wilderness go together, and today’s
epistle links these robust stories of Noah’s deliverance
through the flood with baptism and deliverance from the
power of sin.
In Genesis, Noah picks up the pieces after the flood.
Pictures of the devastation that floods wreak today, both in
our own country and abroad, come to mind: destruction
everywhere and relentless clearing of debris. Noah’s burnt
offering pleases God, but past experience indicates that
rebellion will ensue, so God takes the initiative, launching
into a speech: “As for me, I will establish my covenant with
you.” Although a covenant requires agreement between two
parties, God doesn’t negotiate or consult Noah when setting
the ground rules in an outlandishly generous manner – not
just with Noah, but with all his descendants and every
living creature.
This part of the Flood story is by the priestly author of
Genesis Chapter One, where God also took the initiative,
spoke and creation happened. After the flood’s devastation
of the first creation, the same Creator begins again with
this universal, unilateral covenant: salvation and blessing
are entirely at God’s initiative. As before, the charge is
to “be fruitful and multiply”, but some things have changed:
now human sin is in the equation, the rest of creation will
fear humans, who now can eat not only plants but animals,
and murder has to be specifically prohibited. God promises
never to destroy the earth again through a flood, and gives
the sign of the covenant, the bow in the clouds. We
immediately think of the rainbow, but, in the Old Testament,
where battles involved bows and arrows, the word usually
meant “the bow of war.” When the rainbow appeared,
significantly it wasn’t Noah, but God – who had the power to
override the covenant and destroy the earth – who would
remember the everlasting covenant. So the rainbow would
“remind” God, and reassure Noah that God had abandoned his
bow of war. It would rain again; there would be thunder and
lightning again. When that happened, Noah might well be
afraid that water would again destroy the earth. The sun
would however, shine again, sometimes while it was raining.
Noah saw rainbows only when it rained, when in the words of
Job, “what I dread has befallen me.”
Sometimes, it’s in the midst of what we dread rather than
beforehand that we discover God’s faithfulness. Much as we
would like to avoid being in that situation in the first
place.
In Mark’s Gospel, which we heard today, Jesus, after he,
too, has been immersed in water through baptism is driven –
Mark uses a strong word, unlike Luke’s more gentle ‘led’ –
into the wilderness, where the wild beasts and Satan await
him. For him, just as for the people whom Moses led through
the Red Sear into the wilderness, there is no respite.
Deliverance by God is followed by the testing of human trust
in God in less favourable times.
After the temptation in the wilderness, the sun came out
metaphorically, for Jesus: angels ministered to him. But
then John was arrested: in Noah’s language, it rained again,
or, in Jesus’ recent experience wild animals came again.
What did he do? Undeterred, he began preaching the good news
of God’s Kingdom’s coming near, acting as though he saw in
the midst of this cruel event the rainbow of God’s covenant.
Lent is a time for dealing with the disorder in our lives,
the mud that messes up God’s world, addressing not just the
effects but the causes.
A Church Times report of a few years ago quoted Linda
Tionqco from Christian Aid alerting us to the logging in
river watersheds in the Philippines and other
environmentally destructive practices that were causing or
exacerbating flooding.
In addition to tending our own concerns, our Lenten
discipline might involve engagement with other such hard,
big issues that devastate people’s lives. As Christians
observing Lent, the challenge is for us to get our hands
dirty, and clear the mud – whether literal, metaphorical or
spiritual – that ruins lives. At the same time, we follow
Jesus’ example, and, undaunted by the recurrence of testing,
proclaim God’s good news. With God, there are
rainbows.