Recently I listened to the podcast of Krista Tippett’s interview of geologist David Montgomery. The show contained quite a bit of conversation about the relationship between biblical stories and scientific discoveries. A few years ago David Montgomery set out to investigate the relationship between the biblical story of Noah and the flood and the geological evidence of flooding in the ancient Near East. The conversation in the podcast, however, was less about geology and more about the relationship between science and religion. We live in a time that tends to polarize and set things at odds. We’ve all heard the silliness of some fundamentalist and Christopher Hitchens yelling at each other. Such so-called debates serve very little that is useful. Instead they are simply an invitation to choose sides. Far more interesting are nuanced conversations that reveal how theology and other sciences inform each other and share a common quest for truth. The Tippett/Montgomery interview was once such nuanced conversation.

Flood stories are common in many different cultures around the world. We have heard first hand the flood stories of Cree and Ojibwa in Canada, of the Anangu in Australia, and the stories of our own tradition. The biblical story of Noah arose in the context of other flood stories, some even more ancient than our own. Flooding is, after all, a reality of geology and large floods create memorable events for the survivors. Talk to anyone who was in New Orleans when the levees failed as Hurricane Katrina swept down upon the city and you will hear stories of lives that were changed. We, here in Rapid City, don’t have to go that far. Those who were in our city on the night of June 9, 1972 and those who witnessed the aftermath of that flood have stories that are unforgettable.

One of the conversations that some students of the bible have with geologists and others is about the size and the scale of the flood. The notion that the flood of Noah was somehow larger and more dramatic than any other flood comes from the way that we have received the stories from generations of faithful people who have gone before us. The conversation about whether the flood was literally the whole world or just the known world from the perspective of those who survived is a modern conversation, however. For millennia, our people didn’t make the distinction. The flood affected the world as it was known to our people. They didn’t know or care about whether it was also flooding at the tip of South America or in the middle of South Dakota at the same time. Such distinctions and conversations arose much later in the story of our people.

What we do know from the stories of our ancestors is that the flood was huge and that it affected all of life as it was then known. And we also know that people and animals survived. The story is, at its core, a salvation story. Noah and his family survive and go on to repopulate the world. And the animals survive as well. From the perspective of our people, there is no question about the reason for survival. Faithfulness is the key element. Even when things go wrong, even when devastation comes with the rain, even when the night is dark and the way to get through it is not clear, God does not give up on the people. God does not stop loving. And God will provide the way to the future.

There is another theme in the story of Noah that has been important throughout the many generations of our people. We bear responsibility to be partners with God in this story of salvation. Noah has a unique role in providing for all of the animals, from the smallest to the largest. His faithfulness to God involves direct action not just to save his family, but to save the animals as well.

The problem with too many of the discussions of these stories, however, is that we have a tendency to simplify. For some the story is merely a story of history. It tells what happened way back when. For others it is a story of identity. We are the descendants of the survivors and who we are was shaped by the events that occurred long ago. For others it is a story of God and God’s power to save.

But Biblical stories are always more. They are not just stories about what has happened. They are stories that have been treasured and kept by our people precisely because of their importance to the living of our lives in this generation and their importance to future generations. They are stories about how to live.

We, who are living in the epoch of the greatest number of human-caused extinctions of all time need to think about God’s call to Noah to be a partner in the salvation of the animals. And for us, the call to our fathers and mothers is also a call to us. We inherit not just the traditions and stories, but also the relationship with God. We are more than descendants of Noah. We are called to participate in the work that he began.

Each time we read or tell one of the stories of our Bible, we encounter that story in a fresh manner. It becomes a part of us at a different level. To float upon the surface of the stories, to think that they have only their face value is to ignore the depth that generations of our people have discovered in these stories. They are complex combinations of meaning and tradition and hope and dream. To say that you know what a story means is to admit that you haven’t yet explored all that it has to teach.

Whether it be the flood, or the adventures of Abraham and Sara or Moses leading our people from slavery to freedom, these are stories about God. To encounter the stories and plumb them for their deepest meanings is an invitation that will continue to be offered to future generations. “God has yet more truth and light to break forth from the Holy Word.”

That’s why, in our church, we are quick to say, “God is still speaking.”

And we are still listening.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.