Shalom: the Way to Justice
Genesis 9:8-17
12 And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: 13 I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.14 Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, 15 I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life. 16 Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.”
17 So God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant I have established between me and all life on the earth.”
Shalom: the Way to Justice
There have been way too many weeks this year that have left me as a pastor speechless, staring at a blank screen late Saturday night. When the words desert me, the feelings rush in, the Spirit lifts me up, and it is usually in a song. My gut reaction is – gah, an earworm playing on an endless loop in my mind when I need Holy Words – Holy….
“Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.”
The rainbow is a sign of the covenant not a little diddy of a song. But in the end as beautiful as the rainbow is, it isn’t even for us. The rainbow is to remind God! “15 I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind.” The beautiful colors bear up our hopes after gray days. The rainbow is to remind God of the first covenant in the first testament – not limited Noah. This covenant is big – a covenant with the cosmos with nothing demanded in return. The vastness of this covenant is staggering. God promises from generation to generation – forever.
This week, huddled cold in our homes, the skies were gray. Empty shelves, frozen pipes and bitter cold shook us to our core. The infrastructure we relied on was swept out from underneath our feet. God was with us even then – right there in our brokenness.
"Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true. "
Staring in the face of a time when those of us who ‘have’ suddenly did not, do we dare? Do we share? Do we hope and work for a dream when all have access to warmth, food, water, health, shelter…? How vulnerable are we willing to be so that others are provided for? Do you give up a shower, widen your COVID bubble, hand out food? Do you speak out for justice, fight systems or get political in a risky Christian way? In this covenant, the all powerful, all knowing God was willing to take on limitations - God self limiting - to shelter, protect and care for us. God so desired to be in relationship with us. God who was battling back the chaos of evil (our evil), wiped out creation but regretted it and, out of love, changed the fight away from one of destruction and weapons – massive power on the level of a creation do over - beyond our imagining within the purview of God. God laid those aside and repurposed the bow becoming protector and sealing the commitment in covenant. A covenant that would late be brought in the form of human person of Jesus – the new covenant of blood shed for us. Blessed with this covenant – do we dare to dream of justice for all – do we dream?
"Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me. "
My heart was heavy. The outlook was grim. And then, stories started popping up of shelters First Presbyterian Church downtown – the Stewpot working without electricity to keep feeding people. Of churches and public buildings being opened up as warming stations. First Presbyterian Church of Garland had men out going from store to store searching for enough eggs to provide breakfast for the hungry. An HEB grocery store near Austin who simply told people to take what was in their carts for free when the power went off while the lines were backed up – even if they had no cash so credit cards were useless. One tale is of a woman who realized if you had no power, you had no way to see who was offering help - so she did it the old fashioned way writing addresses and phone numbers of places offering shelter or water on paper and handing the notes out to her neighbors. The clouds weren’t behind us, but here were people taking care of people. The glorious yet bitter night of starlight reflecting against a snow-covered world proved to us that it still held warmth. What is our wish – who can we shelter?
"Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me. "
An image that will always be with me came from Southern Methodist University to the south of us. The dorms were on rolling brown outs of power, some had to be closed. Water had to be boiled because of infrastructure failure. They were down to one cafeteria. And then the pipes began bursting. Unbelievable imagery of waterfalls rushing down stairwells. Hallways reduced to rivers. And outside, water seeped through the mortar of the structure, the very bricks that held it all together. The building wept, the people cried! How do we hold it together. But warmth leaked back in when volunteers showed up with snacks, sandwiches and water bottles. Carrollton and Garland, as well as other cities I am sure, opened more warming stations with snacks and coffee. And hope leaked back in with the warmth. That is where we find God – in the hope. How can we share the hope?
"Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow. "
An oh so important part of this covenant for me is - it isn’t just with humans. The biggest reminder for me this week of that feeling was with the birds. Maybe the reds, blue, grays and browns stood out more against the stark white that enveloped our world. The thousands of little scratch marks in the snow around the disc where we scattered seed reminded me of the fragility and balance that they depend upon. Robin Red Breasts stripped berries out of trees by the thousands. Even within my own yard more than 50 doves roosted in the shelter of trees near a source of water. Birds of all colors could teach us a thing or two – sharing and taking turns at the water and food to be found regardless of size, color, type - side by side sharing in the tree together. I even read a tale of Plano firefighters using a ladder truck with an unusual rescue. Big brave women and men worn out from all the calls for turning off water that was flooding homes, took time out of their days to dig us out of ice, rescue us from messes on roads, in houses. They saved us from fires in unfortunate heating attempts. And then – if that weren’t enough. They said yes to more of God’s creatures. They hauled out the ladder truck, balanced and creatively extracted the two gorgeous swans who had become stuck in ice. Where are the swans in your life - beautiful creatures of God needing your compassion, your help?
Today, we are exhausted. A tired people at the onset of Lent coming out of a dark week. Poet Amanda Gorman wrote, “When day comes we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry, a sea we must wade
We've braved the belly of the beast We've learned that quiet isn't always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn't always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we've weathered….”
"Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow"
What is beyond rainbow, God laid down his bow. The weapon was laid down as a reminder – set aside for a different use. This week was definitely different along the Texas coast. Assessing damage near the naval air station in Corpus Christi, the navy noticed a few birds needing help, but then a retired army veteran noticed floating turtles. Turtles are unable to survive cold; when temperatures drop below 50 degrees, they get sluggish - cold stunned and can’t move their flippers. Turtles float becoming easy prey or they freeze and die. They couldn’t find warmth and were going to die by the hundreds. It began with one man noticing and turned into a massive effort. The military went out in kayaks to scoop up the floating reptiles; coast guard divers in wet suits ventured into the deeper waters rescuing yet more moving them to the Air Station. Volunteers further south in South Padre had moved into gear too loading up Suburbans full of turtles. The convention center was opened to help when the turtle preservation facilities were overwhelmed with turtles. Volunteers at last count pulled out more than 4000 turtles and the military another 1100. Our military protecting nature, not deploying a weapon but working for mercy and grace of God’s creatures.
In this covenant story from Genesis, God repeats never – three times. This is God turning away from defeating chaos by might even when humans are instruments of that chaos.
"Why, oh why can't I?"
We can fly on the eagles wings toward a fuller and deeper relationship with God and with all of God’s children, all God’s creatures. A shalom of wholeness pushing against the chaos within and without. The Reverend Doctor John Holbert writes, “And, of course, that is where we come in, we humans. We, too, must love the cosmos in order that all of God's creatures, every whirring, clacking, and singing one of them, might have places in which to thrive.” Apologies to Judy Garland and Wizard of Oz, but the ‘little diddy’ did the work for me that the rainbow does for God. It reminded me of the Holy - there can be a world with justice for all God’s creatures. The song ebbed and flowed through a dark week, working between God’s creatures, human helpers, strangers and friends. All weaving together, all woven together healing together, working for wholeness– loved by God. We need to remember shalom. Pushing forth compassion, we can be shalom – remembering the living version of the covenant of the rainbow - a covenant strengthened, magnified and sealed in Jesus blood for us. We need to be the rainbow of God’s justice reflecting the love of God to all, sharing the warmth, spreading the light. Not accepting systems of oppression and inequality because that is “just the way it is”.
Throw a handful of seed, one gesture at time. Sharing the light and warmth have renewed meaning this week. Never forget – spread that light, that warmth. Stretch out your hand and rescue one turtle. Be a small tool for justice in this place. God will do the rest. Shalom. Amen.
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