Although the Irishman in me is supposed to know better, there is not, in fact, a pot of gold to be found at the end of every rainbow. At one end of every rainbow, however, you should be able to find Noah’s ark.
We seldom tell the story of the Flood and of Noah’s ark from the beginning. This is how it begins, more or less: “Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence… The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great on the earth, and that every inclination of their hearts was only evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart.’ After instructing Noah to build the ark, God said, “For my part, I am going to bring a flood of waters on the earth to destroy from under heaven all flesh in which is the breath of life; everything that is on the earth shall die.”
When we are told that “the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart,” I think we should take this seriously. We know where the breath of life came from, after all. The breath he was snuffing out was some of his own breath. The life he was bringing to an end was some of his own life. Let’s not assume that God was cavalier about what he was about to do. And the story of the Flood seems to be a story of what God will to to us if we are wicked, if we are corrupt and violent, if the inclination of our hearts is evil. It is a worst-case scenario, to be sure, but it begins as though it must be a cautionary tale.
It’s easy for me to imagine that for forty days and forty nights, while it rained, and everything got damp, the three sons of Noah sang nothing but the Great Litany: Have mercy upon us miserable sinners! What else had they to sing? They knew that the wickedness of humankind on the earth was great; and they were lucky to be saved. Spare us good Lord! They hoped the ark would hold up in the flood. We beseech thee to hear us good Lord! They prayed the rain would eventually stop. Good Lord, deliver us. They did not yet understand their own role in the story. They did not yet see that so much did it grieve God’s heart to bring an end to what had been the crowning accomplishment of creation, that he could not actually bring himself to do it: hence, Noah; hence, the ark, organized with precise detail and extraordinarily intimate communication.
By instructing Noah how, exactly, to build the ark, God ensured the failure of his own plan to “destroy from under heaven all flesh in which is the breath of life.” I think that God didn’t really mean to do what God was about to do. God built salvation into his plan of supposed ruination. I think it may have been inevitable that God had to do this; since God is light, God is life, God is love. And light will enlighten, life will be lived, love will love!
I have long contended that the story of the Flood, and of Noah’s ark was not told starting at the beginning. I believe it was told, starting at the end - at the end of the rainbow, to be precise. After all, it’s not really the story of Noah’s ark and the Great Flood; it’s really the story of the Rainbow.
Take note that the Great Flood did not have its intended effect. Re-populating the earth with the descendants of Noah did not, as far as I can tell, result in a bloodline of human champions who would forever be the best-in-show. No, before the ground is even dry, we hear God acknowledge to himself that “the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth” - which is a harsh way of putting it, but God has God’s reasons for seeing things that way, don’t you know. Having dabbled in destruction, God seems to be capable of such a thing, but unable to put his heart into it. Either that, or the entire premise of the Flood is actually an exercise in projection on our part. It seems entirely possible to me that the idea of destroying all humanity because “every inclination of their hearts was only evil continually” could be a profound displacement of our own suspicions about ourselves onto God by those of us who who tell this story.
In any case, once the Flood is over, God does what he can put his heart into: God gives. He says to Noah, “I give you everything.” As the plants spring to life, and the rabbits and all the other animals get to it, God tells Noah, “I give you everything.” God gives. And one of the ways that God gives is by establishing a covenant, which he does. “Never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” And here comes the rainbow. “I have set my bow in the clouds,” God said, “and it shall be a sign of the covenant…. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.”
Now, you would think God would put the rainbow in the sky as a sign for us, to reassure humanity of God’s love. You would think we are the ones in need of such a reminder. But the sign is for God, because God knows that the Flood didn’t really change anything. In fact, the only lasting result of the Flood is the rainbow - not some newfound goodness of humankind. Before the story ends, Noah, that paragon of virtue, will be found passed out drunk on the beach, an embarrassment to his sons. Has anything really changed? The rainbow is God’s reminder to himself that humankind will never be good enough, but that he won’t let that prevent him from loving us.
It’s possible that we humans need a narrative like this about God. We need a narrative like this about God because it’s so easy to decide to tell other stories about God. We need a narrative that tells how God tried retribution with us, but decided that it wasn’t a good idea. We like retribution stories, after all. Try this one out: God sent his Son to earth to pay the price for human sin, because someone had to pay it, someone had to settle accounts, even the score, after what Adam and Eve did. Blood would be shed: an eye for an eye, after all. So, let’s get Jesus nailed to that Cross! How easily do we take the story of the supreme act of extravagant divine love - God’s gift of his Son to transform our lives and our death by his life, his death, and the new life he lives after death - and turn it into a story of retribution, rather than resurrection?
After the Flood, you might have thought that God would try again, to start all over. You might have thought that God would steel his heart to do the job right the next time, if he had to, and really put an end to the human project, that hadn’t ever worked out as he seemed to have planned.
But what if God knew all along that we would be far from perfect? What if God knew all along that we would be tragic? What if he knew all along we would be disobedient? What if he knew all along we would be corrupt, lost, broken, mean, violent, spiteful, weak, and stupid? What if God, who is love itself, really made us as an expression of love. And he knew that it couldn’t really be love if we don’t have a choice? What if that was the whole point of the exercise for God, whose love, having been contained within the perfect confines of the godhead, wanted or needed to grow and expand? What if the reason the universe is expanding is because God’s love is always expanding? What if God said to God’s own self, if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? What if God decided in creation to put God’s own love to the test? That would explain the serpent, wouldn’t it? All of which is to say, what if God actually loves us just as we are - even before we have repented for our sins. What if God loves us even before he has forgiven us?
What if the story of Noah’s ark and the Flood must be only a story, and not actual history, for just that reason: because it’s meant to show that God doesn’t really have the heart to condemn us, God doesn’t really have the heart to destroy us, even when we are wicked and violent… God loves us, and God will not, cannot stop loving us.
And because we project so much of our own anger onto God, because we project our own thirst for retribution onto God, when we tell the story of the Flood, we say that the rainbow was a sign from God for God. We continue to suspect that this story is told as a cautionary tale - see how far God will go if God gets angry! Oh, God, needed the reminder, we tell ourselves, as if that could be true. Because we still struggle with the idea that God loves us, no matter what. We can hardly believe that God can live with us as we are, let alone actually forgive us for who we are.
Don’t get me wrong, I think the story of the the Flood is a true story because of the rainbow. It’s a story that tells us the truth about ourselves and about God: that, yes, we are prone to disappointment and failure; and that, no, God does not hate us for it: God loves us anyway. It has to be a story - a true story, but only a story - because God couldn’t actually follow through with such a plan of destruction. Someone should tell that to Sodom and Gomorrah.
Oh, the story of Noah’s ark is a true story, but the only part that actually happened is the rainbow: the sign that God will never do it again (and he never did it in the first place)! God didn’t put the rainbow in the sky as a sign of his covenant because the Flood had worked. He put the rainbow in the sky as a sign of his covenant precisely because the Flood was never going to work, couldn’t work, didn’t work. Retribution never does.
Don’t you think God knew it wasn’t going to work? The story of the Flood and Noah and the ark might just be an elaborate Rube Goldberg contraption, the end point of which is just to get a rainbow in the sky, just to say, “never… will I destroy you.”
God made rainbows because, even if it is not really the case that every inclination of our hearts is only evil continually, it remains the case that the wickedness of humankind is great on the earth. Sometimes that wickedness is global - as in the warfare that rages right now in the world. And sometimes that wickedness is highly localized - as in the secrets of our hearts. Don’t you think God knows?
And there is a reason to sing along with the sons of Noah: Have mercy upon us miserable sinners. Spare us, good Lord. We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord. Good Lord, deliver us. Because the Great Litany is also mostly a long, complicated Rube Goldberg contraption the end point of which is just to get a rainbow in the sky, in order to hear God say, “never… will I destroy you…” which is what God tells us as soon as we get to the Altar - any altar - where we will soon hold the Body of his Son in our hands
For God is light; God is life; God is love. And light will enlighten; life will be lived; love will love!
Thanks be to God!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
18 February 2024
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
