In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Terrifying darkness . . . animals cut in half and arranged on an altar . . . a son of Abram’s own flesh . . . a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch . . . and the promise of descendants as numerous as the stars in the heavens . . . what in the world is going on in this first reading of ours?
This is the famous account of what’s called the Abrahamic Covenant--the promise that God made to Abram (before God changed his name) that his descendants would be as many as the stars in the sky--and that his descendants would be given the land of Canaan, from the Nile to the Euphrates. It is, of course, the foundation for the setting apart of the Chosen People, the Israelites, whose history continues and flowers throughout the Old Testament. And beyond.
So--what exactly is this thing called a Covenant? That’s one of those religious words we throw around a lot--this word “Covenant” [or Testament] is in each celebration of the Holy Eucharist. But what is a covenant? My Bible dictionary says that it’s “an agreement enacted between two parties in which one or both make promises under oath to perform or refrain from certain actions stipulated in advance.” [Anchor Bible Dictionary, Vol. 1, p. 1179]
An agreement . . . two parties involved . . . and one or both of them make promises about how they’ll act in the future. So--the covenant here in the first reading is the 2 promises of God to Abram that he will have many descendants and that they’ll possess the land that God will give them.
Now, covenants go way, way back and we find them all over the Ancient Near East, preserved in clay tablets and papyri. They are both secular and sacred. When the 2 parties make a covenant, they mark it by swearing oaths to one another. They often mark it with a sacrifice of some sort -- often it’s the shedding of the blood of an animal. And they usually go on to mark the occasion by sharing a meal.
So here we have an explanation of the instruction Abram received from God to sacrifice the animals. And an explanation for the fire pot and flaming torch from God--to complete the sacrifice--and perhaps the implication that the flesh to be burned would be eaten subsequently by Abram.
And as the Old Testament history unfolds we see the struggle of the Chosen People to trust the covenant God made with their father Abraham--to trust God, for that matter, and to act accordingly. Take a look at our psalm today, for instance. It’s a meditation on trust in God, on faith in God’s ability to keep God’s promises: here’s the first verse: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?” And the end of the psalm is a nice bookend to the beginning: “O tarry and await the Lord’s pleasure; be strong, and he shall comfort your heart; wait patiently for the Lord.”
They struggled back then--and we still struggle--to trust in God’s covenantal promises to us.
Now, later on in the Old Testament we run across a New Covenant--and it’s expressed by the prophet Jeremiah, giving us the words and feelings of God. Listen:
“I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” [31:33b-34]
Now, in our time, we recall this covenant each and every week during our Eucharist. Does anyone know when we mention the New Covenant--where God will forgive our iniquity and remember our sin no more?
This new covenant between us and God, announced by Jeremiah, was consciously invoked by Jesus at the Last Supper and we repeat it every time we make Eucharist: “This is my Blood of the new Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, do this for the remembrance of me.”
And our response to the offer of the New Covenant from God through the shedding of the blood of Jesus is the Baptismal Covenant, which is a response of faith: I believe in God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And at my baptism I make all these promises about how to live out my faith ~ by staying within the church, praying, breaking bread with the group, and living with others and treating them as I would want to be treated myself.
At our baptisms we make or we have made for us this Covenant with God. We renew it for ourselves at an older age when we’re confirmed. And we renew it implicitly each time we receive Communion.
No wonder the Church teaches that Baptism is a prerequisite for Communion. Baptism is our making of the Covenant with God by means of our oath in the Baptismal Covenant. And Communion is a renewal of it. They are first step and the subsequent steps.
I learned something very interesting in researching this sermon: did you know that our word “sacrament” comes from the Latin word “sacramentum,” which was the oath of loyalty taken by a Roman soldier to the Emperor? The early Christians met regularly to break bread and take the oath again to Christ their imperator. The Sacrament we observe today in Communion had its origins in the oath-taking and Covenant-renewing of the first Christians. It was their acceptance of the New Covenant of the forgiveness of sins by God and the practices of devotion by the people.
And as the earliest Covenants were, ours, too, is marked by the making of promises, the shedding of blood, and the sharing of a meal.
Our Covenant with God through Jesus gives us a way out of guilt and recrimination and into a life of freedom. It gives us a way out of the dread of dying and into the anticipation of everlasting life.
And our response to God’s offer of Covenant has the potential to be joyous amazement and gratitude. But what if we can’t go there just yet, or ever? What if the leap into the Covenant with all our heart, all our mind, and all our strength, is something we resist just now?
Here’s the answer: In short we deny ourselves the peace that passes all understanding. We fall short of what we may be. But Jesus waits for us, for as long as it takes us to turn and live the life we were meant to live.
The picture of him in today’s gospel is really poignant. He casts himself as a mother hen, waiting with outstretched wings to provide comfort and shelter, and so often we won’t go there. Those outstretched wings, waiting to shelter and love, are images that foreshadow his outstretched arms on the cross. He lived and died with arms outstretched, vulnerable to all the foxes of the world that work against the will of God, and he was killed for it. For us.
Our calling is to heed the Covenant we entered into--cognizant or not--at our baptisms. The Covenant we renewed at our Confirmations. To trust in the shelter and the forgiving love of God. To live every day His invitation, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
