If you ask me, Genesis 6:5 and 6 (from the flood story) are among the most revolutionary verses in the Bible. “The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great … and the Lord was sorry that humankind had been created, and it grieved God to the heart.”
Now, some people stumble over the Noah story because of their difficulty imagining a flood that would submerge the entire planet. Others wonder whether it is even possible to gather two of every species—let alone accommodate them all, peaceably, on an ark. (Did Noah really travel to Australia to obtain koala bears, or to Antarctica to collect a pair of penguins?)
But for me, those questions are secondary to the absolutely astonishing claim that God suffers—indeed, is heartbroken—over the behavior of humankind. Did you realize that the capacity to suffer distinguishes the Hebrew God, Yahweh, from all the other gods of her neighbors? The Greeks, in particular, had an extensive list of prerequisites that defined the divine. Chief among them was impassibility—the inability to suffer. The way they figured it, God is the Prime Mover of the universe, and hence, cannot be moved by anyone or anything outside of God’s Self.
In other words, the Greeks envisioned a stoical God who sits aloof in judgment, removed from any emotional attachment to humankind, and occasionally lashing out at creation for its utter incompetence. However, this is not the God depicted in the Bible. The Lord is not acting here out of anger and wrath, but rather out of grief and sorrow. In a sense, the flood story could be likened to Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son. The younger son demands his share of the inheritance upfront, which was unheard of at the time, and tantamount to wishing his father was already dead. The father, then, permits the son to walk away, knowing that there is nothing he can do to change the boy’s heart. Instead, the father’s own heart will be broken.
Both stories testify to a God who is not only capable of suffering, but willing to, for our sake. If you read the flood story only as a cold-hearted act of divine retribution, then you are missing the point. This is the act of a bereaved parent who is letting go of a child who has wandered so far from home that there is simply no chance of the child ever returning. Brokenhearted, God is resigned to starting over again.
And who is to say but that the waters that will soon buoy up the ark come salted with tears—the tears of a God who has been grieved to the heart.
Now, some people stumble over the Noah story because of their difficulty imagining a flood that would submerge the entire planet. Others wonder whether it is even possible to gather two of every species—let alone accommodate them all, peaceably, on an ark. (Did Noah really travel to Australia to obtain koala bears, or to Antarctica to collect a pair of penguins?)
But for me, those questions are secondary to the absolutely astonishing claim that God suffers—indeed, is heartbroken—over the behavior of humankind. Did you realize that the capacity to suffer distinguishes the Hebrew God, Yahweh, from all the other gods of her neighbors? The Greeks, in particular, had an extensive list of prerequisites that defined the divine. Chief among them was impassibility—the inability to suffer. The way they figured it, God is the Prime Mover of the universe, and hence, cannot be moved by anyone or anything outside of God’s Self.
In other words, the Greeks envisioned a stoical God who sits aloof in judgment, removed from any emotional attachment to humankind, and occasionally lashing out at creation for its utter incompetence. However, this is not the God depicted in the Bible. The Lord is not acting here out of anger and wrath, but rather out of grief and sorrow. In a sense, the flood story could be likened to Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son. The younger son demands his share of the inheritance upfront, which was unheard of at the time, and tantamount to wishing his father was already dead. The father, then, permits the son to walk away, knowing that there is nothing he can do to change the boy’s heart. Instead, the father’s own heart will be broken.
Both stories testify to a God who is not only capable of suffering, but willing to, for our sake. If you read the flood story only as a cold-hearted act of divine retribution, then you are missing the point. This is the act of a bereaved parent who is letting go of a child who has wandered so far from home that there is simply no chance of the child ever returning. Brokenhearted, God is resigned to starting over again.
And who is to say but that the waters that will soon buoy up the ark come salted with tears—the tears of a God who has been grieved to the heart.
posted by Dr. Robert Crilley at
3:37 PM
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