Covenant of Love

Year B Lent 1—Sermon—Armidale Uniting Church

A reading of the poem "An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow" by Les Murray began this sermon: http://www.lesmurray.org/pm_aor.htm

An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely, ordinary rainbow. An absolutely, ordinary rainbow! This is the sign of God’s covenant with God’s people: a rainbow hung like a warrior’s bow upon the tent wall—a bow put up for peace—“ain’t gonna worry about war no more”. An absolutely ordinary rainbow.

An absolutely ordinary rainbow made from sunlight shining through the prisms of moisture in the atmosphere: a meteorologist could give us a long treatise on its scientific explanation. But it’s still an absolutely ordinary rainbow. And nevertheless, a sign: a sign of God’s covenant, at least according to Genesis—a sign of God’s covenant “never again” to “cut off” “all flesh” “by the waters of a flood”; “never again” “to destroy the earth” “by flood”. And it’s a special kind of covenant—an unconditional one. There’s nothing that humanity has to do. God will simply fulfil the promise. An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional promise.

So, according to the story of Noah and Shem and Ham and Japheth and their unnamed wives and that impossible menagerie of pairs or was it sevens of every kind of animal in all the earth (there are 2 different takes on the plot), according to this story, God offers an unconditional promise, an unconditional promise of peace (“there ain’t gonna be war no more”) between God and humanity. An absolutely ordinary rainbow. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional promise. A covenant between God and humanity made unconditionally by God.
Surely, that is enough to make one weep: unconditional acceptance from a powerful, warrior God who has just wiped out a sizeable proportion of God’s people with tactics nothing short of terrorism: a great flood.

But the story of our Judaeo-Christian heritage doesn’t stop there. There a several extraordinary covenant “cuttings” along the way. One cuts a covenant as one divides a carcass to share among the covenant partners for surely a covenant demands a celebration. (Noah has already built an altar and had quite a barbeque in the lead-up to the account of the making of the covenant.) And any occasion for celebration, particularly, a covenantal one, is surely one for weeping—haven’t you watched the parents at a wedding or perhaps been one yourself? They’re so happy they could cry and they do. But it’s just an absolutely ordinary thing, the making of a covenant, and yet at the same time absolutely extraordinary—an unconditional compact between 2 or more parties. We’ve learnt to second guess ourselves and make sure all the bases are covered, even with marriages in these days of pre-nuptial contracts.

But if Noah hasn’t got you weeping, surely the story of Jesus’ baptism will. How many of us have waited for that affirming word from a parent, a boss, a friend, a colleague, a stranger? And how often has it not come? And here in this story, an adult child is willing immersed in the chaotic waters (even after that promise from God about no floods), willingly immersed in a ceremony that changes lives and changes worlds. And according to Mark, something extraordinarily ordinary happens: the child is affirmed as beloved, unconditionally by his parent, by God. An absolutely extraordinary, unconditional, ordinary parental promise.

Both the covenant witnessed to by the bow in the sky and the one by the Spirit descending as a dove are wrought in the chaotic waters of flood and immersion, both are reliant on the gifting of God, both are unwarranted and both are freely given. Of course, by the time we get to Jesus, the warrior God has been left a little way behind (although the hangover is still there), but the worry about what God will or should do in the face of human behaviour probably hasn’t—despite the Noachian covenant.

In the story of Noah, in the aftermath of the flood, a covenant is wrought. In the story of Jesus, following his immersion an affirmation is given. Out of the trials of water, new discoveries are made about the promises of God: absolutely extraordinarily ordinary. It is enough to produce weeping: the promise of unconditional love, unconditional acceptance, unconditional peace, unconditional relationship.
And yet it is precisely the overwhelming nature of extraordinary unconditional ordinary covenants that produces a response: weeping and celebration, sacrifice and worship, entry into the wilderness—responses to the extraordinary gift of God.

It’s Lent. During Lent, we are called to remember and to honour God’s extraordinary unconditional promise to us: that through Christ, eternal peace has been made; because of Christ, there will not be war between humanity and God anymore; in Christ, we are immersed into the body of Christ and enfolded into the life of God. All that we need do is respond to such an extraordinary gift as an absolutely ordinary rainbow!

Lord God,
in baptism, you brought us into union with Christ
who fulfils your gracious covenant;
and in bread and wine
we receive the fruit of his obedience.
So with joy
we take upon ourselves the yoke of obedience,
and commit ourselves to seek and do your perfect will.
Amen.
[from the service for “Renewing the Covenant”, UiW2]