Broken & Blessed: Connections

Genesis 7: 11-15

In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, in the second month, on the seventeenth day—on that day all the springs of the deep sea erupted, and the windows in the skies opened. It rained upon the earth forty days and forty nights.

That same day Noah, with his sons Shem, Ham, and Japheth, Noah’s wife, and his sons’ three wives, went into the ark. They and every kind of animal—every kind of livestock, every kind that crawls on the ground, every kind of bird — they came to Noah and entered the ark, two of every creature that breathes. Male and female of every creature went in, just as God had commanded him. Then the LORD closed the door behind them.

When the power was out for a week in October, we all were reminded how much we rely on those things that protect us from the potential torment of the natural world. We were reminded of the disconnection we have from natural ways of survival. Few of us have the skills to survive without our modern conveniences. Even though we are rural, we still have limited experience of and even less knowledge of “the great outdoors.” We pay a price for this disconnection, not only when basic survival skills are required but even more so when our souls require the nourishment of feeling their rightful place in the created order. One of the mistaken principles too often taken from the creation story is that we humans were created in such a special place that we are to have dominion over everything else, indeed that everything under the sun is created specifically to serve us. Creation is not a pyramid with humans at the pinnacle, rather it is an ever-changing web of connection in which we move. When we forget our connectedness to creation, we disconnect from the Creator as well.

Research continues to confirm that we are hard-wired with what are called circadian rhythms. When we force our bodies to wake and sleep at unnatural times, such as staying up all night or getting far too little sleep we suffer disorders that effect our health. Lack of sunlight also has a detrimental impact on our physical and even mental health, as seen in Seasonal Affective Disorder.

The great flood is a disturbing tale of the whole of innocent creation suffering as a result of human sin. It is a lesson that we have yet to learn as we continue to voraciously consume the fruit of the earth, not only consuming non-renewable resources that will someday, perhaps soon, be exhausted, but also renewable resources at rates faster than can be sustained. All of creation suffers when we neglect our connections.

If the root of human sin is temptation and disobedience, the first fruit is disconnection: Adam blames Eve, who blames the Serpent and in doing blames the Creator. The harmony of Eden was based on interdependence within the created order. Any time we break our connection with fellow humans we move farther from the Garden. We were created to be a help to one another. We were built for connection.

And when the power was out for a week in October we learned again about connection as we leaned on each other for support. We spent time together and we helped each other with our needs. It reminded us of June when knew right away that we were intended to help our neighbor, that we are indeed our brother's (and sister's) keeper. When we are disconnected storms leave us adrift and alone.

Those who are old enough remember a time when stores were closed on Sundays. And because there was no shopping on Sunday, it was just naturally a more restful day. People had time to get together for meals, to take outings to special places, or to curl up for a nap in the afternoon. Sunday afternoons created a natural pause, a rhythm of rest in the week, a time to find our balance and feel restored in anticipation of the week ahead. Taking time to rest became a natural part of the rhythm of our days. By setting time aside from the hectic workweek, we allowed a space to open up for connecting with each other and with ourselves. We allowed time and space for appreciating our blessings.

At the end of the creation story that we heard last week, we learned that God rested in order to appreciate all that was created. There is an invitation in that passage to consciously build rest into our busy days and weeks. It’s an invitation to enhance our capacity to see clearly and to recognize the places in our lives and in the lives of others where things aren’t right, places where there is hardship and disconnection.

Today’s scripture passage about Noah tells us that it was God who closed the door of the Ark. Along with displeasure at all the devastation and destruction wrought by humankind’s sinfulness, I have to wonder if there wasn’t a sense of urgency within God that the frenetic, out-of-control, and increasingly harmful activity of humankind on the earth HAD to be stopped…just like that...with the closing of that heavy door.

It’s not hard to trace the storms of our own time, the hurricanes, tornadoes and earthquakes of the past few years, to our increasing inability as a human species to rest. By resisting our natural rhythms and forcing ourselves and others to work around the clock in order to build up riches on the earth, we disconnect ourselves from the richness and blessing of our own true natures. We lose touch with that spark of God that is our internal guiding light.

Don’t get me wrong, we need our jobs. We need new discoveries and inventions to help bring nourishing food, medical care, and education to more and more people around the world, and to slow global warming so that the plants and animals don’t vanish. But we also need our internal compasses set to true north.

If we are dedicated to answering the call to love and heal this world, we need to learn to rest and be refreshed. If we want our hearts to be open and turned to the work of justice, we have to be whole and healthy and able to feel joy. The hard truth is that we can’t be who the world desperately needs us to be, if we refuse to give in to the refreshment of rest. If we’re frazzled and worn out, really what good are we to anyone? We know this.

The Jewish Sabbath begins at sundown on every Friday night. As the last rays of the sun fade, all work stops for twenty-four hours. For those who observe the Sabbath in its traditional form, a big heavy door closes on the busyness of life. There is no cooking, cleaning, writing, fixing, building, buying… all the busyness stops… just like that. In the Ark of the Sabbath, reading, resting, and lovemaking are the only activities allowed. Work stops…just like that. For 24 hours the heart, mind, and soul opens to the beauty of God in the stillness…and returns after those 24 hours feeling re-connected to God: refreshed and renewed to do the work of love and justice in the world.

If we accept God’s invitation to rest and renew ourselves by taking time now and then to close the door on the busyness of our lives and turn our ears to the voice of love-- so real and so alive inside every one of us!!--who knows what strength and courage we might find to bring the fullness of who we are to God’s work, the work and joy of restoring healing connections throughout our beautiful, fragile world.