Nothing Much Changes

Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so. (Douglas Adams)

Genesis 9 is filled with hope: dry land, clear skies, new life. Genesis 10 begins with hope as well: God's covenant to never again destroy life. Sealed with a rainbow. The spoken commission: Be fruitful and multiply. The implied commissions: Move forward. Create families. Trust in My promise of faithfulness. Know life and love.

As with Adam and Eve, the cycle begins. Now with Noah, his sons, and their wives, the cycle resumes.

Despite witnessing the Control-Alt-Delete that just occurred. Despite experiencing the destruction of the earth and most of its people. Despite being umbilically attached to an ark for 40 days. Despite hearing God's expansive promise that there will never again be another flood. Despite it all, humanity is what emerges from that wooden vessel - in all its earthiness, rawness, and depravity. And with it, with us, hope emerges, as well.

The story held in the remainder of Genesis 9 leaves us reeling a bit. We've just experienced this amazing emergence from the waters into the beauty of a rainbow. After days and nights of darkness and damp, we breathe in the fresh air. And then we see Noah plant a vineyard, harvest the grapes into wine, get drunk and naked, be covered up by his sons and then curse them for such. Our heads are spinning. So quickly we move from "This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth" (Genesis 9:17) to "Cursed be Cannaan; lowest of slaves shall he be to his brothers..." (Genesis 9:25).

Where's the hope in that? Here is where I find it. Despite it all, nothing much changes. We are the same people - beautiful, frail, flawed, creative, destructive, glorious, crazy, sober, not. And perhaps more importantly, God is the same God - faithful, loving, gracious, kind, all about second (and infinite) chances.

We could read this story and feel a tinge of remorse, a sadness already creeping into our bones as we predict what turning more pages will bring. Or we could read this story in light of the larger narrative (even what we've already encountered in only the first 9 chapters) and feel a surging sense of hope.

Nothing much changes - humanity or God. That is good news. If, despite the reality of humanity (or maybe because of) God remains constant that tells me something insanely, wildly important and beautiful: who and how I am is not all that shocking. Who and how I am is worth creating for. Who and how I am is worth saving. Who and how I am is worth re-creating for. Who and how I am is worth being faithful for. Who and how I am is worth loving.

Nothing much changes. Thank God.

To err is human, but it feels divine. (Mae West)

Our humanity is a poor thing, except for the divinity that stirs within us. (Francis Bacon)