Genesis 9:8–17

Even with a cursory glance at Genesis 9:8–17, the repetition of God’s covenant with creation seven times within this short passage draws our attention to its importance. Many commentaries of worth have been written on the subject of covenant, both broadly and in relation to this particular text, which allows a certain freedom to engage with this passage from a different angle, in the hope of stimulating creative theological engagement for sermon preparation. Here, I seek to approach the text through the lens of critical, collaborative interfaith encounters.

God’s covenant proclamation is striking for many reasons. God makes clear that this covenant is not merely with humanity (or a portion of humanity), but, “with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark” (Gen 9:10). This should come as no surprise, given God’s affirmation in Genesis 1, prior to the creation of humanity: “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind. And it was so. God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good” (Gen 1: 24–25). The covenant made by God is everlasting, and when the bow in the clouds appears, God will remember this covenant between God and every living creature (Gen 9:16).

Interlocutors from other faith traditions provide an opportunity for Christians to consider God’s covenant in Genesis 9:8–17 with greater seriousness. How does all of humanity theologically grapple with issues of ecological crisis, global warming, deforestation, endangered species, animal trafficking, and brute human hegemony of the planet and its resources, which all creation shares? Even a slight reorientation to God’s covenant in Gen 9:8–17 will have seismic implications for how we interact with the world around us. This is an important step, once we take seriously criticism against Christianity for its failure to show adequate concern for the planet in the midst of today’s ecological crisis. Though Christian acts of confession for failing to be good stewards of the world around us have been plentiful, Native American scholar Vine Deloria argues that such confession rarely takes the critical step of identifying and correcting underlying theological paradigms that have historically been so destructive to the created world. Deloria draws on the work of Christian theologian Lynn White, who critiqued the theological tendency to downgrade the natural world and its various life forms in favor of the supernatural world. ¹ Deloria writes: “It is bad enough to consider Genesis as a historical account in view of what we know today of the nature of our world. But when we consider that the Genesis account places nature and nonhuman life systems in polarity with us, tinged with evil and without hope of redemption except at the last judgment, the whole idea appears intolerable.” ² Reorienting our theological discourse to God’s covenant with Noah and all creation, applying what we might learn here to our broader reflection on the covenants with Abraham, Moses, and ultimately through Jesus Christ, becomes an essential part of Christian grappling. The ethical implications will surely be apparent, or at least worth exploring further!

Vine Deloria also notes how Native American traditions highlight the participation of mammals, birds and reptiles in the creation event. When considering the various accounts of creation, Deloria argues that no one story insists on being heard as an ‘absolute historical recording of the creation event.’ At best, tribal stories recount how the people experience the creative process:

The relationships that serve to form the unity of nature are of vastly more importance to most tribal religions. The Indian is confronted with a bountiful earth in which all things and all experiences have a role to play. The task of the tribal religion, if such a religion can be said to have a task, is to determine the proper relationship that the people of the tribe must have with other living things…Recognition that the human being holds an important place in such a creation is tempered by the thought that they are dependent on everything in creation for their existence. There is not, therefore, that determined cause…to subdue Earth and its living things. Instead, the awareness of the meaning of life comes from observing how the various living things appear to mesh to provide a whole tapestry. ³

How do Christians receive such challenges emerging from the heart of Native American spirituality, and how may such engagement allow us to appreciate more fully, and more intentionally, the significance of God’s covenant with “every living being” in Gen 9:8–17?

This conversation with “every living thing” is enriched through our engagement with other voices. Sikh American civil rights activist Valerie Kaur advocates an engaged praxis of “Revolutionary Love.” ⁴ Kaur uses the lens of early Sikh devotional art to uplift Guru Nanak’s message, “I see no stranger,” to highlight the Guru’s teaching on the interconnectedness of all people. ⁵ Building on these foundations, Kaur urges a path of revolutionary love that emerges from the reality of pain, suffering, and fire. Kaur draws from the experience of pain at childbirth, which she describes as the ‘ring of fire’, that ultimately leads to new life. A Christian can be a part of the discourse surrounding revolutionary love? Or, put another way, is it possible for a Christian not to be a part of a conversation on revolutionary love that accounts for our intrinsic connectedness with all living things?

The post-flood narrative of Gen 9:8–17 follows the crisis in the heart of God. We read in Gen 6:6 that God was “grieved to the heart” due to the wickedness of humanity. The Hebrew term used here is ‘āṣab, denoting a great pain in the heart of God. Close attention to the broader narrative allows us to see that the crisis is not found in the flood water itself, which serves only as the dramatic setting for the real point of crisis, which is God’s heart-grief: creation’s resistance to honoring God as God. Significantly, the same word ‘āṣab, used to describe God’s grief, is the same word used to describe the pain of childbirth in Gen 3:16. These instances offer a potential point of contact to Valerie Kaur’s emphasis on revolutionary love. And it should be noted that the same word ‘āṣab is also used to describe the toil from which God will demonstrate divine mercy to humanity, as expressed through the deliverance narrative of Noah and the flood.

The implications of this delivery from ‘āṣab for humanity and creation itself are significant: God’s covenant is deeply relevant not only for Noah and his family at a particular time, or the animals that depart the ark following the flood, but for the entire created order across the realms of time. As God declares, “‘When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.’ God said to Noah, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth’” (Gen 9:16–17).

Part of the theological task of preaching is to remind, renew, and reevaluate with listeners how we understand God’s covenant. Although our interfaith encounters present varied expressions, we see in them how a deep sense of connection to, and radical love for all things emerges. In conversation with Gen 9:16–17, we are reoriented back to the God who commits to remembering the divine covenant with all the earth and are called to do likewise.