Readings:
Genesis 9:8-17;
Psalm 25:1-9;
1 Peter 3:18-end;
Mark 1:9-15

Collect:
O holy God,
whose Son Jesus Christ fasted forth days in the wilderness
and was tempted as we are, yet without sin:
give us grace to discipline ourselves in obedience to your Spirit;
and as you know our weakness, so may we know your power to save;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

Reflection

On Sunday morning, our congregations will use the following opening responses:

Unbounded God, we thank you that you love us as we are, with all of our flaws and imperfections. Nowhere is off-limits for you.

Lord Jesus, we place this torn fabric by the cross to remind us that at your baptism the heavens were torn apart, and divine love burst into this world in a new way.

Holy God, pure unbounded love thou art.

We do love the story of the rainbow and promise to Noah. Fact is, it is also troubling, especially the bit we do not read today. While the story today ends happily with a promise this will never happen again, yet we remember that it stars with mass destruction. I’m amazed we leave stories like this for children. These are difficult stories for adults, and I’m not at all sure we spend enough time examining them, challenging them, and coming to terms with what’s going on in them.

One of the images we miss all too easily in the Noah story before the rainbow, is that the heavens are torn open, an image we use even today when there is a heavy downpour. The ancients thought there was much more than rain-filled clouds drenching the earth. They imagined the chaotic waters of creation, held back by the firmament (see Genesis 1:6, firmament sometimes translated as dome). When the heavens are torn, all this chaos is no longer held back, and destruction is everywhere.

In about 1665, Newton described the rainbow as refracted light. He originally discerned five colours, but decided that seven was the biblical number (days of creation plus the Sabbath) so added two more. The biblical story does not give us a scientific description, but does challenge the view that God is destructive. The community from which this story comes knew destruction. They thought absolutely everything was destroyed. Yet they cherished the survival of a few, and then remembered the joy of the rainbow. They made of this joy, a promise, a promise of God’s unbounded love for humanity, indeed for all creation.

Without appreciating the significance of the heavens torn apart in the Noah story, we miss the dramatic significance of the same thing at Jesus baptism. Look again at Mark’s story carefully. First notice that Jesus is the one who hears God’s words of comfort and charge. There is no indication that John hears these words. We’re not even told if there were others there at the time. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is alone with John, and only Jesus hears God’s words. But this is a carefully told and exciting tale. We are told, warned: “Remember what happened to Noah. The heavens are being torn apart. Beware! Disaster is upon us!” There is, however, no disaster here, not yet. At Jesus’ baptism, God’s voice makes clear Jesus’ ministry, and Jesus responds immediately, at once, a favourite word in Mark. Jesus goes into the wilderness to prepare and to be tested, both physically and emotionally.

The wilderness in the Bible is seldom a good and happy place. This is where isolation, trouble, even death reside. Yet Jesus goes there, intentionally facing up to them. We’ll think about these kinds of wilderness all through Lent. This Sunday we’re reminded that nothing separates us from God, not even destruction.

Barry Lotz