Covenant

A sermon preached at Old South Congregational Church, Hallowell, Maine, March 5, 2006.

Text: Genesis 9:8-17

The Rev. Susan M. Reisert, Interim Minister

Sermon prayer: Gracious and merciful God, in whom is the fullness of light and wisdom, enlighten our minds by your Holy Spirit and grant us grace to receive your Word, with reverence and humility. Amen.

Covenant is an ancient concept, conveying a solemn agreement that is binding on all parties. This morning, we go back to an ancient covenant, a covenant whose symbol is familiar to all of us—the rainbow. This morning’s covenant, though an agreement among all parties, is not like a union contract or a deal reached between friends. It is not a negotiated settlement

Interestingly, this ancient covenant, defined as a solemn agreement that is binding on all parties, involves primarily just one party—and that is, God. God sets this covenant and establishes it. Noah, as in the rest of the story, says very little or nothing at all. But, that is the subject for a different sermon.

Today, we consider first this covenant established by God. But, before we do that, we take a moment to remember that we are at the beginning of Lent, the very first Sunday of our Lenten journey. For those of you who gathered here on Ash Wednesday, you accepted the visible mark of a largely inward journey. Since the fourth century, Christians have observed the 40 days, not counting Sundays, before Easter as a season of sorrow, reflection, repentance and fasting. In a contemporary culture that encourages indulgence, the ashes of Ash Wednesday, of the first day in the season of Lent, signify a wonderful act of humility. As a time when we befriend our brokenness, acknowledge that not all is well with our soul, and lament the pain of so many people in our world, Lent appeals to us as one of the most significant and realistic seasons of the church year.

As we begin our journey through the season of Lent, reflecting seriously about who we are and to whom we belong and how we might belong a little better, we find ourselves facing this covenant, this solemn agreement, that is really entirely about God and not so much about us. This agreement demands nothing of us. God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. 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 upon the earth.”

Have you ever looked upon a rainbow and thought that God too might be looking upon the very same rainbow and remembering this covenant, remembering this promise that God made between God and every living creature upon the earth?

We often cannot help but to think of ourselves and our own perspective when we gaze upon the rainbow or when we think about the solemn relationship between God and every living creature. But, today, on this first Sunday in the season of Lent, we find ourselves with this agreement, this sacred promise, from God given to all living creatures upon the earth. No matter how badly we mess everything up, we know that there is a sacred promise, set in motion by God, our creator.

The rainbow is a reminder to us, but to God as well that there is a special relationship between God and all flesh, that there is a bond between the Creator and the Created. The covenant upon which we reflect this morning, the rainbow set in the clouds, usually seen after some rain, serves as a painful, yet also hopeful symbol. Never again would God choose the waters of a flood to destroy the earth. That God would choose such an arrangement of destroying almost all flesh because of the wickedness of his own creation, is a troubling notion. But, again, that is largely a subject for another day. Today, we find ourselves in the presence of the symbol of hopefulness, a promise that is established by the Creator, perhaps reflecting God’s own sorrow.

In light of such a powerful promise, in recognizing such a significant bond, we find that we must respond—that such an agreement, that such a covenant calls to us. Though we really were never party to the promise, we feel compelled to participate in it, to honor the covenant made by God and every living creature.

We respond in many ways, but today on this first Sunday in the season of Lent of the year 2006, we spend a moment to focus on two of those ways—church membership and the sacrament of Communion. These are two things that are at the forefront of our thoughts as they are a part of our worship on this day.

First, church membership. When we gathered in the parish hall to talk about church membership, these five who have joined today along with myself and Ted Ruark, chair of the deacons, it didn’t take long before the major subject of the meeting was raised—why? Why join the church? After all, we are able to participate in almost all aspects of church activities without joining the church, so why go through it? Why join? Except for voting and serving as a deacon, church membership seems perhaps itself an ancient custom that has lost at least some of its luster.

But, as a group, we found ourselves talking about those things that matter. We talked about the significance of making a public statement, making a claim of sorts. We talked about engaging in a promise, in a voluntary covenant. I think it was Christine who likened church membership to marriage. Though couples, these days, are not compelled to marry—living together without marriage does not hold the kind of shame that it once did, after all—but, yet marriage continues. Marriage is not only a private agreement between two people, it is also a public statement that welcomes the support and encouragement of others in our personal relationships.

When we join the church, we make a similar kind of commitment. We make a public statement, we engage in a voluntary covenant, to be not only an active part of this community of the faithful, but to be counted in a new way. Through life’s joys and sorrows, through the hills and valleys of our life together, this is the community to which we are bound—that together we may continue to grow in God’s knowledge and love and be witnesses of our risen Savior.

On this day, these five people publicly offer their gifts and talents to this community and welcome the gifts and talents of the rest of the church community into their lives. They voluntarily join in this ancient notion of agreement, of covenant—that we gather together not just for ourselves but to glorify our Creator, who reached out to us first and who calls to us to gather together.

Today, we also live out another aspect of our covenant through the sacrament of Communion. There’s a lot I could say about Communion, but I’d like to focus on just a couple of things. Today, especially, it is good for us to think about some of those more practical aspects of Communion as we welcome the church school to Communion today. It has been said that we say everything we need to say about who we are and to whom we belong, how we respond to the covenant, through the sacrament of Communion. Today is a good time to be more conscious of how we celebrate this sacrament. Today is a good day to be, in the words of my son, good role models.

How we celebrate the sacrament is not just a coincidence or because we couldn’t come up with something better. The method we use reflects our theology—who we are, to whom we belong and how we are called to be in relationship with each other. For those who were able to participate in the history Bible study in January, you know that much of the reason for why we have many Protestant denominations and not just is one, is largely because of disagreements over Communion.

Through the sacrament of Communion, we display our own wonderful brand of the understanding of the “priesthood of all believers.” The minister offers the bread to the deacons, who go out and serve the congregation with the congregation then also serving each other, with plates being passed and offered among those who gather in this sanctuary. Through the passing and offering of the plates, we minister to our neighbors while we also welcome the ministry of our neighbors.

I remember when I learned to serve Communion, back when I was a teenager, that this was an important point. Today, as we seek to be good role models for the children, I would ask that you be a little more conscious of how you offer the elements to each other—how you seek to minister to each other, reaching out to your neighbor as you hold the plate for them, while also welcoming the ministry of your neighbor as you allow your neighbor to hold the plate while you take the element.

A deacon also serves the bread to the pastor—another important aspect of our congregational form of Communion—as the pastor welcomes the ministry of the deacon through the sacrament. In the sacrament of Communion, we all enter into a special time of grace, with not one of us singled out as particularly closer to God than the others.

At Old South, we recognize our individual as well as our collective relationship with God through the receiving of the elements of Communion. The bread is taken as it is passed, symbolizing our individual relationship with God. The cup is taken together, symbolizing our collective relationship with God.

All of these things, as well as the other aspects of the sacrament, reflect our notion of the covenant, the covenant between God and every living creature. In the sacrament of communion, we remember that through the covenant, Jesus was sent to show us the way. We remember that Jesus was betrayed by his closest friends. But, we also remember the hope and promise of the risen Christ. We remember the continuation of the promise and the new opportunities for understanding how God interacts with this creation.

As we are about to gather around this sacred table, welcoming the special grace that only God can offer, we remember that God first reached out to us and we feel compelled to reach back. In the mystery of our gathering around this table, in the midst of God’s grace, we are offered the opportunity to lift up our weakness, while also welcoming the forgiveness that only God can offer.

God offered a promise. May we be so bold to reach back, to welcome the mysterious, yet life affirming, covenant. God established a covenant, setting the bow in the clouds as a reminder. May we be so bold, on this first Sunday in this season of Lent, to renew our side of the covenant—to offer our own selves to God, with hope in the promise of what is possible. Amen.