Til Death Do Us Part: A Sermon for 1 Lent
One of the most memorable and quotable phrases from the marriage liturgy is “until death do us part.” I quoted the older version because that’s the one that we remember. Elizabethan English is as elegant as it is effectual. Sadly, some marriage rites these days have revised it to where it now says something to the effect of, “until we decide otherwise.” I kid you not.
When you think about it, that phrase “til death do us part” expresses a fundamental need that we human beings experience beginning at a very young age. I know a young couple who decided to become Foster Parents to a young boy. Well, a few months into this new relationship, it became clear that this boy’s home situation was not going to improve. His biological mother was unable to do the necessary things to regain custody of her child. So after much prayer and discernment, my friends agreed to adopt him. After a while, the boy began uncharacteristically acting out at home and at school. When I heard this, I wondered if his acting out has to do with his possibly being afraid that they won’t stay with him forever. It is as if he was testing them, trying to see if he could do something that would make them abandon him. I think, whether he knew it or not, he was probably questioning their love and commitment to him. And I don’t blame him one bit. Sadly, he is not the only person who has experienced the heartbreak of abandonment from somebody they thought would stay with them forever.
I wonder what Noah and his family were thinking there on the ark, floating safely on the very same water that God had used to destroy everybody else. Were they feeling grateful? Scared? Guilty? I know when I was a child and I saw one of my friends getting paddled or switched, I was grateful that it wasn’t me; but I was also very aware that I could be next! So it was more like a cautious gratitude that I felt.
Noah and his family survived the flood, but what next? Clearly, their God was capable of wrath and vengeance. What if they were to fall out of favor with God next time around? Likewise, once the honeymoon period was over, perhaps the little boy I mentioned earlier was afraid that he had fallen out of favor with his adoptive parents.
It sure seems like God wanted to stay with Noah and his descendants forever when he says, “As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you…I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” In other words, no matter what, I will stay with you forever.
When I read this text, I also wonder if God might share in humankind’s tendency to need reminders from time to time. But how could an all powerful, all knowing God need to be reminded of something? I have no idea, but not once, but twice God says that when he sees the bow set upon the clouds, it will serve as a way for God to remember the covenant he has made with Noah and his descendants. We must assume that God is a person of his word. The covenant had been made between God and Noah. It is there in scripture for us to read. But we still need signs that we can see here and now. We still need that beautiful reminder in the sky. That reminder makes the covenant that much more real to us, and for God.
Emily and I know that we stood at an altar and exchanged vows, establishing a lifelong covenant with one another and with God. We even have the paperwork and photographs to prove it. But sometimes we still need to be reminded of that promise. We need to hear, “Yes, I will stay with you forever. Until death do us part.”
The little boy was there at the courthouse when my friends adopted him. They have the paperwork and pictures to prove it. But through his entire childhood and adolescent years, he will need reminders from them that they will not do to him what his biological parents did to him. They will stay with him forever.
So far, God has made good on his promise to humankind. God has stayed with us, in spite of our constant turning away from him. During the season of Christmas, we remember and celebrate the very incarnate reality that Jesus is Emmanuel - God is with us. Every week when we celebrate the Eucharist, we do so in remembrance that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. Like his Father in Heaven did with Noah, Jesus knew that we would need a tangible reminder of his merciful, saving grace. But this reminder is not only one that we can see – it is one that we can touch and taste; it is a reminder in which we partake.
On Ash Wednesday we received a reminder in the form of ashes sprinkled on our heads. We were reminded of our mortality - that we are dust and to dust we shall return. Now the season of Lent is upon us, we are reminded of our call to repent – to turn away from living only for ourselves and to turn back towards God. Turning towards the all-powerful, all knowing, almighty God can be a frightening thing. After all, this is the same God who sent the great flood. But this is also the same God who vowed to never do that again. This is the same God who made a covenant with Noah, and a covenant with us. And this is the same God who chose to be with us, in flesh and blood; to live and die as one of us, for all of us, reconciling us to Him, not because of who we are, but because of who God is.
As we receive the Holy Eucharist this morning, let us taste and see that the Lord is good, and be empowered to turn around and face the God who is calling us back to Him; the God who has promised to stay with us in this life and in life everlasting.