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First
Reading
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Psalm |
Epistle |
Gospel |
Genesis 9:8-17 |
Psalm 28:1–9 |
Peter 3:18-22 |
Mark 1:9–15
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When people come into this place for the first time, they usually look up at the ceiling and sense that it was built to represent the hull of a ship. I suspect more than a few may think of Noah who in the ancient Biblical saga constructed the great ark that saved the future for all living creatures of earth.
Noah is often portrayed with a long flowing beard, grey with age. He stands resolute with a measuring stick firmly grasped, his eyes piercing through the ridicule of his neighbors. He appears as the wisest man on earth, holding a clear, unshakable vision of the future. Not so, however, not so! Noah was not particularly wise and he did not have an extraordinary glimpse into the future. He did not know what the outcome would be when God told him to begin building. His virtue was that he trusted that God’s future for humanity was benevolent and as he built, loaded up the animals, and then floated off, that God’s intention for the future of humanity would be revealed.
Floods were virtually universal symbols of destruction for ancient civilization, and an ark was a symbol of shelter, a home, even a womb. The final editors of Genesis weave at least two traditions of Noah together. In what appears to be the earlier one, Noah did not know even why he was commanded to build the ark. It seems as if God just told him to build and Noah responded. Whatever he knew or surmised, undoubtedly Noah was teased unmercifully. Why build the world’s largest boat on high ground, far from a river at a place it had never flooded? Noah had no encompassing vision or insight into what was going to happen in the future. He only knew things were changing and he was willing to accept the ridicule.
The first hint that the new era was going to be different came when God gave Noah the passenger list. Not only were Noah and his family to be included, but also every animal, clean and unclean, was to be brought on board. In the old era, it was animal against animal, humanity against itself, and both humanity and the animal world at enmity with each other. In contrast, those who would live into the next era were all placed in the same boat together. The one great lesson that all survivors from one era into another must learn is that they need each other to make it through.
Today, there are clear signs that our oceans and freshwater bodies of water are in trouble. It is not just a local problem; it’s not just about the Finger Lakes. It’s a universal problem. There are clear signs that our atmosphere is sick. Again, it’s not just the air quality over the Northeastern United States; it’s a world problem. There is substantial evidence, noted by biologists, botanists, and agronomists that the universal health of our plant and animal commonwealth is severely stressed. It’s not simply a political debate where the lobbyists can present their case, where contrasting sides on the issues may be delineated, the issues rationally discussed on talk radio, and then people, fully knowing the truth, can vote, and the issues consequently will be quickly put to rest. That is as naive as thinking that electing new village trustees will quickly solve the deer problem in Cayuga Heights. Not so, not so!
In Noah’s time, when the flood is over and the boat beaches on dry land, a major disclosure of the new era is that the earth itself is no longer humanity’s adversary; no longer is there a curse between the environment and its creatures. Our environment, all the animals, and humanity from now on need to learn to get along. We are on the same boat on this earth, and the lessons of Noah are still relevant.
True, Noah was no victorious hero in the world’s terms. He was not a builder of cities, a leader of armies, or a prophet of great wisdom. The personal life of Noah was bittersweet, for Noah’s sons didn’t turn out as any parent would wish. Noah was a survivor— who took a big chance, trusting on God to lead him from one era into another.
Most of the pews in the nave where you sit were built in the early 1860’s, as the debate on slavery was heating up. These walls were completed months before the civil war erupted. The builders were on a threshold of a new era that would profoundly change America in ways no one anticipated. This actual ceiling was added later, as the world left the nineteenth century and entered the 20th, as the world left the harbor of its agricultural age behind and fully embarked on the ocean of the industrial age, as the era of inherited royalty began to crumble, and the world began to split into developed and undeveloped nations. Straddling the threshold of history is nothing new for people of faith in general or for people of St. John’s in particular. In some sense it’s precisely what people of faith are trained and expected to do.
Today the Gospel recalls Jesus’ baptism by John the Baptist before Jesus was sent out into the wilderness to be tempted. John the Baptist was indeed a person of transition between eras, too. We have churches named in honor of John the Baptist. I don’t know of any named for Noah. That's too bad, for we ought to have a church named in honor of Noah, Noah the builder, the builder on faith; the builder of a bridge from one age to another; Noah the survivor, the survivor who was open and trustful of God’s call; and Noah the straddler, the straddler of eras. At least at St. John’s, it is a good thing that we may be reminded of Noah’s work every time we gather here and then are sent out into the world.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
