I think it was Frederick Buechner who once wrote that we make the story of Noah and the Flood into a children’s story, complete with toys, because it is simply too awful and too frightening a story for us adults to deal with. A world gone so wrong that God sees no way out but to destroy the whole thing and start all over again; the death of every human being on the planet but eight; the loss of all animal life but for a representative sample of one to seven pairs of each. And in the end, a new world that doesn’t seem to be any improvement over the old one that was washed away, making the whole thing seem to be one long, sad, violent, and unnecessary exercise in futility.

And - oh, yes - a beautiful rainbow.

Here’s where our Lent begins this year – with the world a soggy, sodden mess; the ark tilted and resting in the mud, all its doors and windows propped open hoping to get some fresh air into it after six long and smelly months at sea; Noah and his little family a little tilted as well, still trying to get their land-legs back after their ordeal; and God, like a victorious warrior, hanging up his bow, but wondering to himself exactly what’s the victory he’s won.

It was no less a theologian than Kermit the Frog who asked the question, "Why are there so many songs about rainbows, and what’s on the other side?" Which makes me want to ask the question: So, what’s on "the other side" of this one?

Well, the short answer is – we are. We’re on "the other side" of this rainbow, by which I mean that the story describes a "pre-rainbow" world and a "post-rainbow" world, and this is the side of the rainbow that you should want to be on. Sound strange? It gets stranger still.

What do you think the one thing is that changes from the beginning of the story of Noah to its ending? Oh, I know that everything is different – but only one thing is changed. I’ll give you a clue.

Once the flood waters have subsided, Noah, and Mrs. Noah, and their three sons and the three daughters-in-law, all disembark from the ark. And of course, they are thankful to still have their lives, if nothing else. And they offer a sacrifice to God. So far, so good. And then the very next story that’s recorded, immediately following the text we’ve read, tells how Noah was the first one ever to plant a vineyard (he could be the Patron Saint of the Napa Valley!) He gathers a harvest, makes some wine, gets roaring drunk, and passes out naked in a cave, where his sons eventually find him. One of his sons is cursed for life for having seen his father in the all-together; and the other two sons have to walk backwards into the cave with a blanket to cover Noah’s embarrassment. Where Mrs. Noah is all this time we don’t know. But you can almost hear God sigh a big sigh and say, "These humans – there’s something wrong with them."

Actually, that’s my paraphrase of what God says; and God actually doesn’t even wait until Noah passes out to say it. God says, as soon as Noah and his family have stepped off the ark, "The imagination of the human heart is evil from its youth." And sure enough, just a chapter or two later, as if to prove God’s point, the whole lot of them, Noah’s grandkids, are out there on the plains of Shinar, building a tower which they hope will reach into heaven itself, so that everyone will know how great and powerful and smart they all are. We know it now as the Tower of Babel. And we know that that didn’t work out so well, either – but you know that God saw it coming. Humans. God shakes his head. What’re you going to do with ‘em?

So what’s changed as the story line progresses? Clearly not the humility, wisdom, obedience, or holiness of humankind – or, I should say, the lack thereof. What changes is… God. God says, "Well, that whole wiping them out thing didn’t seem to do much good. Just made a wet mess out of everything. And they are sort of cute in their own way. And so I’ll never do that again."

"Noah," God says, "I make you this promise." And the rainbow is hung up in the clouds so that every time God looks at, God will remember the promise that’s been made. Storms may come, and storms may go; humans may be wise or foolish, proud or humble, drunk or sober – but one thing will never change, from this rainbow on: God has made a promise to all creation – to love, honor, and cherish it - and God will not go back on that promise.

See, there’s sin and judgment in the story; and a rainstorm and a flood. There’re pairs of animals lined up from here to the horizon, and four married couples carrying their luggage up the gangplank of a very large boat. Those things are all in the story, but the story’s not quite really about any of that. It’s a story more about God, and the way God has chosen, on this side of that rainbow, to relate to the whole creation God has made. "I am establishing my covenant with you," God says, "and your descendents to come, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth…"

God is a God of promises. The Bible is full of them, and during these five Sundays of Lent leading up to Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and Easter, we’re going to be hearing again some of the big promises of God that are recorded in the Hebrew Scriptures. Covenants, we call them – agreements and commitments made by God. This covenant, made with Noah and the whole creation; the covenant of blessing with Abraham and Sarah; the covenant of the Law with Moses and the people of Israel; the covenant spoken to Jeremiah, promising a new covenant yet to come. From beginning to end, the Bible describes God as a God of promise.

As promises go, this one is a great one. Universal. Unconditional. Unbreakable. There are no "chosen people" here in this first covenant of Scripture – or rather, no un-chosen people - as though God would make a pledge to one group but not another. In fact, there aren’t even distinctions made between humanity and the rest of creation. All are included. For those of you who are nature lovers like I am, how cool is that, that God makes a promise not just to the people in the story, but also to the raccoons and the turkey vultures and the salamanders and the beluga whales and the camels, and to the earth itself. "I am establishing my covenant with you…When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature."

This is where the story of our Scriptures begins – with God as the creator of all, and then through the trial of human disobedience, and divine judgment, God reaffirming in the end in the strongest possible terms that God will be creation’s God; that God will act to protect, preserve, and nurture all of life.

(Psalm 148)Martin Luther wrote in the Small Catechism’s explanation to the First Article of the Creed. "God has given me, and still preserves, my body and soul and all their powers. Daily he provides me with food and clothing, home and family, daily work, and all I need from day to day. All this God does out of divine mercy, though I do not deserve it."