Covenant
Covenant is an important concept for Unitarian Universalists. We learn a lot about it from stories in the Hebrew Bible. Some of the things we learn are that covenants are mutual, that they are situated in a long-term context, and that they leave space for reconciliation.
I was having lunch with a friend the other day. She is a Christian education professional at a Presbyterian church and a classmate in my counseling program. For some, inexplicable reason, the topic of decorating nurseries came up. She was marveling at the number of parents who choose to decorate their children’s rooms with a Noah’s Ark theme. The animals always happy to be sharing the ark with two by two of all creation for forty days, not concerned at all with the disaster that had recently wiped out nearly the whole world. It’s actually kind of a scary story. The behavior of Noah’s family directly after the Ark episode is not children’s material, either. We agreed that it’s not the most cheerful story as a nursery theme, when you take the whole thing into consideration.
Nevertheless, when I was about five years old, our church pageant was a re-telling of Noah’s Ark. I remember huddling together on the chancel with all of the other children dressed as animals, our teacher dressed as Noah standing beside us. We swayed as we pretended that a rainstorm was rocking the ark back and forth.
When the storm was over, and the ark had landed, Noah sent a dove out to see how much the waters had receded. (Genesis 8:11) I was the dove. I went running to the back of the sanctuary, and returned with a stick that was supposed to be an olive branch. We looked up to the rainbow stained glass window in the balcony and to our teacher in the balcony who sang high, operatic notes. I have no idea what words she sang, but I remember the point: that the rainbow was a sign of the covenant between God, humans, and all the living things on earth. God would voluntarily step back, and humans would step forward to take better care of creation and of each other’s safety. (Genesis 9:12-16)
I was young enough when we did that play that context of the story didn’t enter into my mind. I liked the singing and the rainbows and having permission to run in the sanctuary. If I had been eight or nine, old enough to think about cause and effect and to worry about the future, this story might have kept me up at night. Noah’s Ark is not a cheerful story overall, but it is a good story for people who are able to read between the lines.
The Rainbow Covenant
As an adult re-interpreting the story, I notice a couple of things about the nature of covenant embedded in the Hebrew Bible. For one thing, covenant is a mutual agreement. It requires some give and take from all of the parties involved. People are given space to exercise their decision-making power, to shine as part of the relationship. Power relationships are acknowledged. Those with less power are still recognized as people with wills of their own, yet those with more power recognize their responsibility to use that power well.
In the Noah’s Ark story, humans come to recognize the importance of refraining from violence against each other and for minimizing the violence done to animals. That’s their part of the covenant, locating their responsible use of power. God’s part of the covenant is to refrain from using violence against the earth as an expression of grief or disappointment. Bad things may happen, but the destruction of all life is not Divine intention. Again, here is a mutual understanding, honoring each person’s role. Maintaining the covenant is a shared responsibility, and that responsibility honors each person’s power to act.
Another thing about covenant that I read into this story is the long-term nature of it. Covenants are not short-term work plans. They are sacred promises meant to last. They are connections set in place in an interdependent web of cause and effect, resonating with consequences for generations. The rainbow covenant was not just about the mutual benefit of individuals in that moment. It set the tone for relationships among people and between humans and animals. Humans and animals each inherited their own set of vulnerabilities. The rainbow covenant took that into account as creation moved into the future. A covenant is made with the understanding that there are larger, long-term implications for the well-being of many.
A third thing I notice about covenants is that they leave room for growth and reconciliation. My understanding of the story is that God knew and Noah knew and the animals knew that the flood changed nothing about human nature. We are still susceptible to destructive impulses. What changed is that now we know when we are acting congruently with our covenant, when we are not, and how to return to the circle when we miss the mark. Unlike a contract, which shatters when broken, covenants help us to knit ourselves back together like the living things we are. Tissues, bones, spirits, and covenants are capable of healing after an injury. Jewish theologian Martin Buber said, “the human being, as such, is the promise-making, promise-keeping, promise-breaking, promise-renewing creature.” To paraphrase Buber, covenants recognize that we aren’t perfect, yet we do have the capacity to make commitments and to try again.
Exploring covenant is vital to Unitarian Universalism because it goes straight to the heart of how we understand ourselves as a people. We bind ourselves in union through covenant, not through creeds. The word covenant helps us see the transcendent aspect of our shared spiritual life, the larger context for the commitments we make as a community.
Honoring covenant goes way back in Unitarian Universalist history, even before Unitarianism and Universalism were organized in America. The idea of covenant was deeply embedded in the reformations of the sixteenth century, movements that recognized religious freedom and were skeptical of dictators who imposed faith by political decree. Covenants are essential to the spirit of a free religion. I don’t want to get too bogged down in UU history today, but I do want to point out that covenant wasn’t invented last week; it is woven into the fabric of our heritage.
Covenant wasn’t invented during the Reformation, either. Then and now, we continue to draw from the Jewish side of our religious family tree. The way we currently articulate the sources of the UU tradition, we say that we draw from Jewish teachings that call us to love our neighbors as ourselves. We can learn from the legends of the Hebrew Bible about ways that covenants are made, kept, broken, and renewed.
I realize that approaching Bible stories is not easy for everyone. For some people, these stories are brand-new, and the volume of the unknown can be daunting. For others, these tales are known all too well, and we are familiar with how they can be misappropriated for the opposite of their intention, misused to justify human actions that are anything but life-affirming. Yet these stories, and the understanding of covenant that they carry, are part of who we are. Their gifts can only be unlocked with deeper study, and their drawbacks will continue to restrict us unless we untangle the layers of meaning in these legends. I know that the people in this room are a bold and curious community, and I believe we are capable of wrestling the blessing out of ancient teachings.
Let’s start with searching the stories for clues about covenant. Some of the inferences from the Noah’s Ark story show up in other parts of the Hebrew Bible. Through these legends, we learn that covenant is mutual, honoring the power and responsibility of each party. We learn that covenant is long-term, taking into account heritage and the well-being of others rippling out from sacred promises. We learn that covenant leaves room for growth and reconciliation. Much more can be said about Jewish teachings and about Unitarian Universalists covenants. Let’s start with those three: mutuality, long-term context, and space for reconciliation.
Mutuality
One legend that speaks to the mutuality of covenant is the story of Ruth and Naomi. Naomi and her husband Elimelech and their two sons had come to dwell among the Moabites during a famine in Judah, many years before. Naomi’s two sons married Moabite women, one of whom was Ruth. By the time ten years had passed, Naomi had lost her husband and both of her sons. The famine in Judah was over, and Naomi decided to return to her own country. She implored her daughters-in-law to stay in Moab, to start over and to create new lives and homes for themselves. One of the daughters-in-law chose to accept Naomi’s advice, and tearfully said goodbye. The other one, Ruth, chose something else.
She said, “Entreat me not to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die—there I will be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!” (Ruth 1:16-17)
Ruth’s marriage to Naomi’s late son did not obligate her to make the journey from Moab to Judah. Ruth was the one who proposed a new covenant, a deeper quality of relationship. The two daughters-in-law were able to make their choices because they had independent decision-making capacities. Naomi couldn’t ask Ruth for the new covenant, Ruth had to show that the promises she was making were within her own power. Ruth had what philosophers call agency, the ability to act autonomously.
In the new covenant, Ruth and Naomi both accepted different obligations toward each other than they had taken on in the past. Moving from Moab to Judah, they switched places as the guide to local customs and culture. The two of them made plans for their mutual long-term survival, and for the future generations of their family. You can hear in Ruth’s speech that the shared responsibility wasn’t simply a matter of convenience or necessity; their new covenant was rooted in a loving and respectful relationship.
Covenant is mutual. Entering into a covenant means we believe ourselves and the other people to be rational enough to make the promises outlined in the covenant. It means we accept shared responsibility; everybody has a role in keeping those promises. Entering means all of the covenanted people have the freedom and the capacity to accept the duties of that relationship.
At first glance, we might think that duty and freedom are opposing forces. Let’s take another look at this. Accepting duties is not the same thing as being coerced to follow orders. Covenant is not compatible with coercion. If we are going to declare ourselves free to make choices, we take on all of the implications of those choices. On the other hand, if we obey our whims and impulses, we aren’t really free, we are tied to consequences that we didn’t consciously choose.
To give another example, if we feel that there are life-and-death punishments to joining the correct political party or religious group or gang, that’s coercion. If we freely choose to take on the obligations of a group, to make commitments for a shared mission and mutual wellbeing, that has the makings of a covenant. Obligation and freedom make an inseparable pair.
Although the covenant of Ruth and Naomi isn’t in the context of a marriage, Ruth’s speech is often used as a reading at weddings. It speaks to the promises that families make when coming together. Our Unitarian Universalist understanding of covenanted adult relationships honors the autonomy of each person in the relationship. We might call this a UU theology of marriage: we trust that adults who choose to become a family understand themselves and each other as free and capable of making decisions and taking on long-term obligations. We don’t see one partner as the lifelong authority and another one as helpless. It’s not a UU marriage without mutual respect.
In other words, the Unitarian Universalist understanding of covenant reflects our implicit affirmation of the inherent worth and dignity of every person. Whatever our gender, our culture, our gifts –and whomever we love—we see the capacity for covenant in every human being. Covenant reflects a worldview in which all people should be able to grow to their fullest potential, free from oppression and supported by mutual relationships.
Long-Term
In addition to the qualities of mutuality and respect, covenants carry far-reaching implications. Covenants are not simply agreements for immediate mutual benefit. We enter into them steeped in our own histories, and we recognize that the effects of the covenants we make will resonate after we are gone.
In the Hebrew Bible, Abraham and Sarah bring this to mind. By standard measures, Abraham and Sarah were doing fine. They had a prosperous household. The voice of the Divine did not suggest to them that entering into a covenant would make them richer or happier. They did not sign on to make their lives easier. In fact, things got much harder. The traveled back and forth across the desert, narrowly escaping conflicts with kings, and working through a few interpersonal challenges of their own. Their covenant was for the benefit of their descendants, for the great nation to come later. They were promised, “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Genesis 12:3) Abraham and Sarah took on a covenant that risked their comfort for the sake of future generations.
I think about the long-term nature of covenant in Unitarian Universalism when we celebrate child dedications. A child dedication is a ceremony of welcome for a baby or a young child. During the ceremony, those who are present make promises about the ways in which they will dedicate themselves to a specific child or children. These ceremonies can be private, but they are usually done during a Sunday service, because the congregation has promises to make, not just the parents. If there are older siblings or other children from the congregation at the ceremony, I outline the ways they can dedicate themselves to the new child. All of us have responsibilities when it comes to creating communities where young people can thrive.
Usually, the baby or child being dedicated doesn’t understand that they are being recognized formally as a Unitarian Universalist kid. No matter what happens, this will be a spiritual home where they are invited to grow, and to which they can return. Although covenants are about choices, babies don’t typically choose to be dedicated. We create a covenant around them.
There are some choices we make for them so that they will be fully equipped to make their own choices later. Most families choose to have their children educated, to teach children who have the ability to learn to read and to do arithmetic. Similarly, we teach UU kids to have a sense of belonging, that this is their faith community. We teach them something about what that means. I sure hope we earn their decision to continue as Unitarian Universalist youth and adults. In any case, they only way they can make an informed choice is through being grounded in the community and the tradition that covenants around them as children.
The ripples of responsibility in a covenant of child dedication don’t just emanate outward from one child. Each time we dedicate ourselves to being a nurturing community, our promises lead to nurturing everyone in our community. We take on obligations that affect future generations. When new members join, they, too, become part of the network of mutual responsibility. If you weren’t dedicated here or your children weren’t dedicated here, the promises we make still apply. I believe that belonging to this congregation—adding your time, talent, and treasure to this covenant—will bring individual blessings and benefits. I also believe that it’s not really about us. By covenanting together, we become stewards of blessing for future generations, we become a sanctuary that will save the lives of people we haven’t yet met.
Abraham was invited to count the stars in the sky as an expression of all the descendents who would share in the joys as well as the obligations of his covenant. I don’t think we can ever fully know the extent to which our promises to each other make a positive difference in the world, but I believe that these blessings are beyond counting.
Growth and Reconciliation
So far, I have talked about covenants as promises built on mutual relationship and respect. I’ve talked about the long-term implications of covenants. Another aspect of covenant that sets it apart from an everyday contract is the space for growth and reconciliation.
There is a theme in the Hebrew Bible of the Holy being patient with people until they come around and return to covenant. The implication is that we, too, should call each other to accountability but not to perfection. Covenants are living promises and can be healed. We leave room for humanity. In other words, covenants are about not giving up.
The story of Jonah in the Hebrew Bible is one such legend that gives clues about leaving space for human imperfection. Personally, I think this story is hilarious. God says to Jonah, “Jonah! I’ve got a job for you! The people of Nineveh have strayed. I want you to go there and protest wickedness so that they will turn aside from it.”
What does Jonah do? He takes off in the opposite direction! He hit the road to Joppa, and from there caught the first ship headed for Tarshish, the furthest destination he could sail from that port. Jonah is a prophet, mind you, running away from God.
God kicked up a heavy wind across the sea and a mighty storm. The sailors each cried out to their respective Higher Powers. They cast lots to try to figure out if one of the gods was angry with them. The lots fell on Jonah. All eyes turned to Jonah. “Why is the storm following you? Where do you come from? Who are your people?” Jonah explained that he was a Hebrew and who his God was. The sailors knew Jonah was fleeing the presence of a god they didn’t want to mess with. Jonah volunteered to be thrown over the side of the ship. At first the sailors tried to steer the ship back to land on their own. Eventually, they decided to take Jonah up on his offer and, with a prayer asking for forgiveness, tossed Jonah into the sea.
The next bit is the most memorable part of the story. God sends a giant fish, which swallows Jonah whole and holds on to him for three days and three nights. Jonah spends that time praying for his life and promising to make sacrifices. Meanwhile the fish is swimming along toward—you guessed it—Nineveh.
God told the fish to spit Jonah out on dry land, conveniently close to his destination. God said, “Jonah! I’ve still got a job for you. Get up, go to Nineveh, and proclaim the message all across the city.” Jonah gave up running and figured he might as well take the job.
Nineveh was a large city. It took three days for Jonah to walk all the way across it while crying out about Nineveh’s wickedness and proclaiming the city’s impending doom. The people of Nineveh listened. Up from the grass roots, people put on sackcloth, sat in ashes, and observed a fast. The king of Nineveh heard about Jonah’s prophecy and the people’s fast, and he proclaimed fasting and prayer for everyone. The king said, “All shall turn from their evil ways and from the violence that is in their hands. Who knows? God may relent and change his mind.”
God did, indeed, notice the way the Ninevites turned from their evil ways. God decided not to bring any calamities down on the city. Jonah noticed their repentance, too. You would think he would be satisfied with a job well done. Isn’t this what every prophet wants? To be heard? Nope. Jonah spoke to God and said, “This is what I was afraid would happen. I knew you are gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing. Just this once you couldn’t do some smiting? This is terrible. I might as well be dead.”
“Is it right for you to be angry? God asked Jonah. Jonah didn’t answer, he just flounced off in a huff out of the city. Outside the city walls, Jonah made an observation booth, hoping that God would decide to bring some calamity after all and that he would be there to see it.
God grew a bush over Jonah’s head, which provided some shade in the heat of the day. Jonah spent that afternoon in relieved comfort. The next day, God sent a worm to attack the bush, and it withered to expose Jonah to the sun again. Jonah complained about the heat, and said, “It is better for me to die than to live.”
God said, “Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?” Jonah said, “Yes, angry enough to die.” God answered, “You are concerned about one bush that you did not plant or grow yourself. It sprung up in one night and was destroyed in one night. Why shouldn’t I be concerned about Nineveh, a great city with thousands of people and animals?”
In this story, Jonah tried to run the other way because he didn’t want the people of Nineveh to have a second chance. He tries every way he can think of to avoid honoring them with the responsibilities of their covenant. Jonah even takes risks with his life, implying that perhaps he didn’t believe he was deserving of forgiveness, either.
God is portrayed a number of different ways in the Hebrew Bible, and not all of them show a deity who s merciful and slow to anger. The books of the Bible were written and edited by human beings; they could only write within the limits of their imagination. Sometimes human imagination is pretty harsh, but we have the capacity to mature and to find peace. If I were to think of the Spirit of Life as God, the one in the book of Jonah is a lot like a God I could recognize: gracious, patient, and with a sense of humor. In any case, I think these are Divine qualities that we can bring out in each other through the practice of covenant.
Covenants are about living relationships. The covenants we form together as a congregation make us accountable to our best selves. We notice when we’re not living up to our values together. At the same time, we know that none of us can be perfect all the time. We leave room for each other to try things we’re not so good at. If we were to have a disagreement or a temporary breach, the relationship among us would lead us to gently speak the truth in love, figure out where we needed to heal, and to re-enter the covenant. Covenants give us something to live up to, and also a place to come home when we don’t quite live up to our ideals.
This is not to say that injured covenants don’t hurt. Of course we feel hurt when we disappoint ourselves and each other. But that doesn’t have to be the end of the story. Some of us believe that all of the Divinity in the universe is right here in this world, in the present moment. The relationships we’re in are the ones we’ve got. Human beings are too precious for us to lose each other if we have a choice. When we can name the covenants we’re in, we can more easily see the places where we’ve bent things out of shape and where we can repair the damage. Space for growth and reconciliation is part of the deal.
Conclusion
Making covenants can be intimidating. They are mutual, requiring us to think seriously about our freedoms and responsibilities, demanding that we explore the meaning of respect for our partners in covenant. Covenants are created in an interdependent context, with a past and a future. We enter into them, knowing that our promises will mean something to those who come later. Covenants leave room for growth and forgiveness. We have to face up to our own imperfections. Ideally, we’re more willing than Jonah to accept reconciliation with others. These are only some of the clues we can pick up from the Hebrew Bible. Just those three things ask a lot of us.
On the other hand, what’s the alternative? Do we give up on our own power to make decisions and to take on obligations? Do we ignore the effects our actions have on future generations? Do we want to live in a world where broken things can never be healed? We’re here, so I think we have all chosen today to follow the path of covenant. We have chosen the joys of human relationships, the pride of respect for human dignity, the vision of future generations, and the comfort of a reconciling Spirit of Life. This is what it means to belong to a free religious faith. May our covenants long endure.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
