The Age of Noah


Lenten Vespers, Week Two


Homily:

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

In addition to prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and repentance, Lent is a traditional time for catechesis, that is, instruction in the faith.

For our Lenten vespers this year, we are following a catechetical method of St Augustine, who broke up the story of the Bible into six great Ages of the World. The first age was the Age of Myth, from Adam to Noah. Tonight we enter the second age, from Noah to Abraham.

In this second age, Creation has been given second birth through the waters of the Great Flood. Evil has been drowned, but not lost. There is yet sin in Noah and his family, which they carry along with them into a world made new. As for all those who drowned in the Great Flood, well, they are not lost forever. Along with rest of Creation, they await the coming of the Messiah, and the Resurrection of the dead. We will see them again when Jesus descends to harrow hell.

This is the age, following Noah, when myth begins to collapse into history. That is, the world of the Bible grows progressively more recognizable as our own. The sons of Noah—Shem, Ham, and Japheth—spread out in three different directions, their descendants venturing into the three known continents of the ancient world. Ham’s family settles in Africa, Shem in the Middle East, and Japheth in Europe. The various Semitic peoples and Semitic languages of the modern Middle East are called such because they claim descent form Shem.

Noah is also the first person in the Bible, mind you, to cultivate grapes and vint his own wine. He overdoes it at first, but from here on in wine, in moderation, will be considered throughout the Bible as nothing less than a gift from God.

God also proclaims perpetual peace with humankind, that He will never again start the world anew as He did in the Flood. The rainbow, sayeth the Lord, will remind us that God’s war-bow has been hung in the heavens, pointing upward, pointing away, as a sign of peace—as the rainbow remains to this day. The signs of the age of Noah, the rainbow, the dove, are still our ubiquitous symbols of peace.

This is known as the Noahide or Noachic Covenant, in which God promises not an itemized contract but an open-ended and secure relationship between Heaven and Earth, God and Man. It applies to all peoples everywhere and even to animals, whom God forbids us to abuse.

One of the more remarkable aspects of this second age is its universalism. Genesis lists all the nations descended from Noah, and more than a few of them will prove to be the enemies of God’s people Israel in the stories to come. We are all related, the Bible tells us. Humanity has a shared history and a shared family. Even those we consider foes are really wayward brothers and cousins. And to them, quite frankly, we may well appear rather wayward ourselves.

The age from Noah to Abraham is an age of transition, of fresh starts. The giants and monsters of old have been drowned, though a few may still pop up from time to time. God has begun to reestablish His intended peace throughout the universe, calling a truce between God, humanity, and the whole of Creation. So viewed, the Flood was not a catastrophe but rather a last-ditch effort to prevent catastrophic failure: to save the world and all mankind, so fatally fallen and torn by sin, before we passed the point of no return.

And now that the world rises anew on firmer if shaky legs, God puts into motion His ultimate plan to save us all from sin and to restore Creation to its intended glory. And that plan begins with the unlikeliest of heroes, a childless old man descended from Shem, whose youth witnessed a world still full of ancient wonders, yet whose adulthood would see a jaded world of realpolitik so very like our own.

The second age closes, the third begins, with the call of a man named Abram.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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