Symbol of Hope

From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul

6 June 2010, pm

The Venerable Judy Hardie

• Genesis 9: 8-17
• Mark 4:1-20

What was it about last week that made me think of Noah – and find the reading from his story particularly appropriate tonight? A week ago I watched all the people who found shelter in the Cathedral during Barbara Brown Taylor’s Workshop – coats were shaken dry, wet feet appreciated the under floor heating in this building and the rain added an extra sense of intimacy as it continued to pour down outside. Life was far from being bad. (Possibly the Saturday Market stall holders might not have agreed?) Then yesterday I woke to the contrast – clear blue skies, chilly (but great for bringing on my Brussels Sprouts) and brilliant, transforming sunshine. We live in an incredible part of God’s world. Perhaps Noah felt like that when the rain eased, the flood waters evaporated and his ark-load of people and animals were released from what must have been a very smelly confined space and they could walk in freedom on dry land once more.

But that wasn’t the end of his story as we know well. The sun that emerged through the clouds formed a great rainbow in the sky. I can imagine Noah standing there in the relative silence after the commotion of disembarking was over – standing there, gazing at the glory of colour spilling from the rainbow and thinking how will God deal with his world now? How do I go on and what might God want me to do?

I know that feeling – I’ve experienced it more than once in my life and I’m sure you will be able to relate to it too. Something has occurred that has blotted out all that you thought was firm and constant in your life, you have gone through sleepless nights, and days when pain and grief seemed overwhelming. Weeks when there seemed to be no answer to the turmoil, to the storm in which life has enveloped you and possibly your loved ones too. Then one morning things seemed to have changed. The little, almost imperceptible steps forward that you had been making suddenly seemed to have got you somewhere. A new way seemed to be opening up, the past was shaken off, leaving hope, leaving a positive expectation about the future in its place. You might not have seen Noah’s rainbow – although there might be a symbol in your world that helped – but you are able to take a deep breath and move on. Who or what was it that gave you the strength to keep going?

Noah found the rainbow was more than something to gaze upon, for as he looked he heard God’s voice assuring him that its wonder would for ever after be a symbol that would remind him of the Creator’s presence in the world. Moreover, it was a symbol of the new covenant that God made with Noah and all created beings – not just with the Hebrew people. It was a covenant which assured creation that never again would God allow all living beings to be destroyed – the rainbow was a divine reassurance to all people.

And yet, those same people had great difficulty in understanding that God desired to be something more than a judgmental power, to be considered as more than the one who brought calamity and suffering on all those who deviated from the strict paths that the Law that Moses had brought to them. Isn’t it strange how in spite of all we have learnt of God’s part in our lives, for so many there remains the image of God as a man with a long white beard sitting on a cloud just waiting to pounce on the transgressor? Hundreds of years after Moses this was certainly the case, that is, until another man’s suffering began to reveal God’s Wisdom at work amongst his people. (We heard a little about Wisdom last week, envisioning her standing in the market place and calling to all to search her out and gain deeper understanding of God.)

The man I’ve been thinking about lately is Job, for it is through his story that people began to gain a new vision of God. Through Job’s unjustified suffering the author or authors of the Book of Job began to open out God’s Wisdom for the people. This is not a book that gives an answer to the reasons for suffering in the world. Rather it is a tremendous outpouring of the reality of people’s lives. For sure, neither you nor I live as Job did – a patriarchal sheik in an environment quite unlike Wellington (even on a good day.) Yet we also experience the good times and the bad, the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs of living. I’m thinking of those dark times when illness or betrayal of trust or a broken relationship seem overwhelming – when grief rips the very essence of who we are and threatens destruction of every security on which we have built our lives. It is into this reality of our lives – as in Job’s life – that God desires to pour an ever present sense of Being. God being, working with us, God comforting and reassuring, God forgiving, God’s presence bringing a glimmer of light even in life’s darkest of times when we can hardly sense that presence. Not a God of judgement and retribution. This is something that the people of Noah’s times couldn’t grasp, or those in the ensuing centuries. Or Job - until right near the end of his story. Or even right up to today when I hear people say, “I must have done something bad for God to punish me like this.” Have you heard this? I’m sure you have.

But 2000 years ago God moved amazingly again in a way that defies our understanding. God entered into our humanity as man – as Jesus. Jesus who also knew what injustice and suffering meant; Jesus, a man who lived and worked amongst ordinary people – like you and me; Jesus, expelled from the synagogue but working out there in the houses and streets through which he moved, teaching, always teaching through actions and words. He used the parable we heard tonight to teach of God’s ever present reality. A story of good seed wasted on stony ground – or producing abundant results when nurtured in rich soil.

I believe this is not simply a parable about how people “out there” hear God’s message of ever present love. I believe it is for each of us individually to take into ourselves and reflect on - that the planting does not happen only once in our lives, but over and over again as surely as the planting seasons repeat themselves. I recall the footpath times, the dark times when my faith has been tested and I’ve given myself up to hopelessness – there’s been no rainbow in my sky and I’ve been swayed by talk that, like Job I’m being punished for something I might have done. A loving God is all a figment of my imagination. Or perhaps the rocky ground time when once again I’ve done nothing about the presence of God in my life – no times of prayer or worship – and life has been barren. Or when things have been really great – life is wonderful – so much to do, so much to enjoy – and these distractions like the thistles have easily forced me out of God’s ways. But I know that, through Jesus and his overwhelming understanding of my humanity, there are more times of fruitfulness when, treasuring the gift of new beginnings, I can start again and go forward in his love.

God’s message in Jesus to us tonight is, don’t despair. Tragedy and hardship may flood our lives but we are never alone for Jesus walks these barren paths with us, working his love through the care of others. Or, try to get off the stony ground if we find ourselves missing the nurture of God – try to receive the words of Jesus as the interaction of lives in the workplace or home is considered. Take time to think about the scriptures, the ways in which God has revealed his compassion through the ages then look for ways God’s love is being shown in the market place. Above all, keep on making time for God and the barriers will melt away and life will bear fruit abundantly. This is it, just hold on to the hope in the symbols of God’s love all around us in the glory of Creation. Jesus at work - in and through all things.