Noah and the Ark is such an extraordinarily difficult story.  On the surface, it’s the story you most want to tell children–two of every animal and a happy family caring for them in a cozy ark rocking on the waves, ending with dry land and a rainbow promise.  And yet every child sees straight through that story almost as soon as they can talk.  Why do all the people die?  What about the children?  What about the baby zebras?  Why was God mad at the baby zebras?  And no honest adult knows how to answer those questions, because they are ours too.

The ark story is one of the oldest that we tell in the Judeo-Christian tradition, and has roots that reach even deeper and wider.  From the Ancient Mesopotamians to the Ojibwe people of our own Northwoods, each culture seems to have its own version of a great flood story. Without a modern understanding of science and geography, assigning natural events like floods to the gods was natural. So to those who first told the story, asking why God made the flood wouldn’t even be a question; what or who else could make it?

Even though our understanding of why that ancient flood happened has grown over the years, the story continues to resonate because floods still happen.  People, homes, animals, trees–all of the created order in a particular place and time–are still, suddenly and catastrophically, washed away.  Even when we control waters with dikes and dams and canals, filling in bays and streams with gravel, soil and cement, the waters are never fully tamed and still sometimes break through whatever we use to contain them.  Sometimes the flood comes in other forms too.  As a storm surge that washes out Duluth’s shoreline. As a blanket of frozen water that shuts down Texas.  As wave after wave of animosity faced by brown and black people just trying to live their ordinary lives. As a pandemic that surges through the world. 

The flood story of the Bible is different from other flood stories, but not because of how the Bible says it happened.  This story is different because of what happens next.  In this story, God reaches out to Noah and makes a promise, a solemn, binding covenant:  no more floods that destroy everything. No matter what happens, no matter what we deserve, no matter what we do right or wrong, God says:  I choose relationship; I choose blessing; I choose life.  In an ancient story, within a larger world populated by gods who treated humans like toys, that was revolutionary.  And in our world, where we’d rather focus on who’s to blame for whatever bad thing just happened, choosing relationship, choosing to love and cherish others no matter what  is still revolutionary.

Still, it’s natural that we all–children and adults alike–ask why when bad or scary things happen.   And it’s natural as well that the adult in the room, looking at that frightened child, struggles for an answer. Suffering is real. Sometimes suffering is a leftover of decisions made long before we were born.    Sometimes suffering just happens.  And yeah, sometimes, we are responsible for others’ suffering.  But no matter what the circumstance, looking into the eyes of that child,  a loving adult will nearly always say something like this:

I’m so sad and sorry that happened.  I know you are scared and hurt. But I promise: it’s going to be alright.  I will take care of you.  I promise that no matter what happens, I will keep you safe.

We say those words, knowing that we can’t always keep the people we love protected from all of the ways that the world will hurt them–or even the ways that we might hurt them sometimes.  But here’s the other thing we know.  Our love will, through it all, keep them safe.   

We know this because we’ve experienced the love of our Creator who covenanted with our ancestors before time was even counted, who promised that no matter how bad things get, that nothing will ever destroy us because we are God’s  beloved creation.  We know this because, over and over, hands and prayers and hugs and meals and doggy kisses and sun shining through the trees–the beauty and love of God’s beloved creations all around us–keep us safe.  And we know this because, like Jesus in today’s Gospel, it’s when we are at our limit, parched with thirst, that we most clearly know the angels who wait on us.  

Catastrophic floods have come and gone thousands of times since the time of Noah.  People, animals, the natural world experience devastating loss.  Suffering happens no matter how strong our faith.  God does not promise otherwise.  But God does promise–God solemnly covenants: you will endure; I will bless you; I will not forget you. And because a covenant is a two-sided promise, God expects that we will do our part.  When the flood washes over others, we also promise:  I am with you. I see your hurt. I will do my best to keep you safe.   That, God’s beloved,  is the answer, the promise, and the way of Love.