5 March 2006
Carolyn L Roberts

Genesis 9.8-17 Mark 1.9-15

Walter Brueggemann claims that covenant is a radical alternative to autonomy-and autonomy by definition is the freedom to operate solely by one's own laws. We need only look to those who have been married to check out the truth of Brueggeman's claim! No question about it. When we enter into the covenant of marriage, we give up some elements of autonomy. But we do so because being autonomous isn't all it's cracked up to be. Being totally autonomous is claiming that we each are an island, without relationship one to another. And that is a very lonely proposition.

When a couple marries, they covenant with one another to be faithful to the promises they make. As a sign of that covenant, they usually exchange a symbol, a ring. That symbol becomes a reminder to them - and to everyone who sees it - that the person wearing the ring is in a special relationship with another. A relationship with someone to whom they have made promises to live in a way that keeps the very best interests of that other person at heart.

Covenant is all about relationships. Our first reading, that great story about Noah and the flood, ends with God's pledge: "never again." Never again shall such a destructive flood cover the entire earth, destroying every living creature. Never again shall the earth and all its creatures fear that God will manipulate the forces of nature as signs of divine pique.

Not that such fears surfaced only with the ancients. Consider the malevolence of the god-figures in some science fiction-the manipulation and cruelty of the Borg, or the calculated indifference of the controller in the Matrix. In contrast to the prevalence of that theology, our forebears assert: by choice, God is in such a bonded relationship with all of earth, that earth will not be destroyed by God's hand. God will not go against God's own covenant-and in fact, will be reminded of that covenant every time there is a rainbow. As our Judeo-Christian ancestors in faith wrestled with the relationship between nature and its elements, two insights emerged. We have already considered the first: God does not wish earth's destruction. When we remember the theologies of their times, that insight alone is stunning. But the second theological insight is equally audacious: God communicates with us. And not just in a broadcast to anyone who may be listening, but to named individuals. Noah. Abraham. Hagar. Moses. Deborah. Mary. Jesus.

This communication means that covenant takes place in present time; covenant takes place in the now. It is lived in the moment. So Jesus' baptism builds on covenants already established and fleshes out God's covenant with him in his present time. Mark captures the relational nature of this covenant by combining Psalm 2.7: You are my son, with Isaiah 42.1: my chosen. You are my son, my beloved, my chosen. Now my covenant is established with you, Jesus. And God's Spirit immediately drives Jesus to the wilderness, to the place of testing.

When we were newly married, one such test for our covenant came about very innocently. Real tests usually do, I think. One of John's seminary classmates asked if I wanted to go to San Francisco's Museum of Fine Arts to see the Dürer exhibit. I jumped at the offer. Now mind you, John can spend hours in a train museum, but an art exhibit? Suffice it to say, he does a walk-through and is finished. Don't even ask how long he spent at the Impressionists. So when we hadn't returned within three hours, John was annoyed. Four hours and he was beyond annoyed. Four plus hours and we walked in-heady with the experienced treasures of the afternoon.

A time of testing. John had calculated 3-3½ hours max. An hour's drive each way, a walk-through at his pace. Home in 3¼ hours-3½ with traffic. Our real time? An hour's drive each way, and a little over two hours basking in the arts. Ultimately, our marriage covenant strong enough to sustain two acquaintances sharing an afternoon delighting in the visual arts. Ultimately, our theological and personal commitment continued its expression in our shared life-now rapidly approaching 35 years.

The crux of covenant comes down to that: the commitment we make to our shared life. Whether the covenant is God's pledge not to destroy creation, or the pledge a couple makes to each other in a loving, committed relationship, or the pledges we make at our baptism, covenant has to do with our shared life. It has to do with relationships.
And much as we would like to limit those relationships to the persons we already know, the loved ones we cherish, no reading of the gospels permits this. Mark simply announces the beginning of Jesus' ministry with "the time is fulfilled," the entire import of its fulfillment pregnant with meaning. Luke adds specifics with the words from Isaiah: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me...to bring good news to the poor...release to the captives...recovery of sight to the blind...release [to] the oppressed.

When we are baptized, we pledge "to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice, to witness to the work and word of Jesus the Christ, to grow in the Christian faith...furthering Christ's mission in all the world." Our covenant is clear. It addresses all of our relationships-from the most intimate to the downright political. And lest we forget, our memory is refreshed each time we gather.

Our own communion table charges us to remember. Remember the new covenant in which all are welcome at the table, included in its life-sustaining nurture. Not at some pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by time, but now, in this time.