Have you ever seen a rainbow when you least expected it? Do you remember how you reacted to the awe, the joy, the beauty, the wonder of it? How you felt? Every time one sees a rainbow, it is a wishful and unexpected experience.

There is something truly amazing about seeing a ribbon of colors, floating above you, seeming to travel with you. . . . .

When I see rainbows, the memory of them, and my excitement upon seeing them, remains with me. It was always such an awesome experience. I remember, in particular, when I moved to San Antonio. Leaving Cincinnati after four years of seminary, I chose to drive to Texas. It seemed to me the right thing to do—take a few days to let go of school and ponder the new chapter in my life. Much to my surprise, upon crossing the border into Texas, I saw a rainbow!

It was the symbol I needed. It seemed to be God communicating in the most beautiful and sentimental way possible: you made the right choice! Welcome to Texas! (For you native Texans, you may want to add: it took you long enough to get here!)

I know I am not alone. Many of my friends have shared anecdotes with me about rainbows, which always seemed to appear during significant life changes.

It doesn't seem surprising, then, to learn that there is even a blessing that is said upon seeing a rainbow: Baruch atah adonai elohenu melech haolom, zocher habrit vneeman bvrito, vkayam bmaamaro. Blessed are you, God, Ruler of the universe, who remembers the covenant, is trustworthy in the covenant and fulfills God's word.

This may seem an odd blessing to recite when viewing a rainbow. When I first learned this blessing, I was surprised that there weren't words about the beauty and grandeur of the rainbow.

The words for this blessing are rooted in this week's parasha, Noah. As you may remember, Noah is directed by God to create a colossal boat, and to load every kind of animal upon it. This ship was created in order to survive a storm that was designed to destroy the earth, for all, except Noah and these animals, were sinners.

Noah follows God's instructions, and creates, essentially, a floating zoo. As the floods subsided, a dove was sent forth, twice, and finally returned with an olive branch, declaring that land was once again available. Following the dove's discovery, and the ability to return to terra firma, God speaks to Noah and his family, giving them instructions by which to live. Finally, God establishes a covenant with Noah and his sons, with all the animals, and with us, that the world will never again be destroyed by floodwaters. This first covenant was created not only with words, but with a sign: the rainbow.

This is found in Genesis, Chapter 9, verse 16,

The rainbow, then, and its accompanying blessing, are commanded to reminders of God's life-affirming pledge.

When we recognize God's covenant, we also must note an important fact: A covenant, by definition, is a two-way deal. When we look up at the spectrum of color, we must also remind ourselves of our part of the pact.

Noah and his family are the safe keepers of all animals of the world. In our Torah portion, we learn that where Noah was commanded to take aboard the boat every kind of living being (cf 7:1-3). He was entrusted with an awesome and holy task: to help the world by taking care of the animals on the ark, and eventually by repopulating the earth.

How important is it for us, then, to translate this task into our world. While in our times, we are not faced with imminent doom by flood, we are still obligated to uphold the covenant, symbolized by the rainbow features a tremendous variety of colors. It is a sign of the dazzling difference among members of the human family.

Yet, since September 11, we seek to hide from diversity. We so easily fall into the trap of profiling, marking those in our minds, or in some other way, who look different or suspicious.

I recently heard a story of a woman who got on a plane and was dismayed to be seated next to a man of Arab descent. For the majority of the flight, she was nervous, looking over her shoulder, trying to decide whom she could trust.

When drinks were offered after take-off, she was forced to pass the man's drink to him. He looked her right in her eyes and smiled. A heavy Southern accent spilled out, and he said, “ Thank-ee, ma'am. I'm mighty thirsty”.

Giddy with relief, the woman sighed and began chatting with her neighbor. Turns out they grew up in the same hometown!

This is a story with a wonderful, amusing ending. But so many of us can relate to this story: how sad that is!

Are we keeping the covenant with God if we begin to blot out the beautiful array of colors that are integral to our American nature?

Just as Noah was commanded to take at least two of every living being for life on the ark, we, too, must work to embrace all beings.

We cannot reject a people simply because of the way they look, or the accent with which they speak. Yes, in the past six weeks our lives have irrevocably changed. Yes, we must be careful. But we must not be so overzealous as to obliterate the rainbow of color, of culture, that is America. Rabbi Arnie Sleutelberg, in his commentary on parashat Noach, teaches: “Anyone or any tyrant who tries to undermine God's diverse creation by demanding uniformity and suppressing creative expression is clearly violating God's law.” Such was the actually the sin of the people of the Tower of Babel, told later in our Torah portion. They were obsessed with sameness. We are blessed to live in a country whose history is a listing of diversity. Since September 11, our goal has been to fight terrorism. By falling into the trap of stereotyping, and profiling, we begin to obliterate that which we define ourselves.

The National Conference for Community and Justice, formerly the National Coalition for Christians and Jews, offers a powerful four-day seminar on prejudice and hate to teenagers. It teaches that hate occurs as a progression: it begins with daily biases—such as jokes and slurs—and then moves to avoidance. In this phase, one carefully, often consciously, shuns the person.

Once one avoids a person, and makes that individual the “other”, it is easy to categorize an entire people and begin acting in a judgmental way. This is prejudice. Prejudice is a sentient, negative—and sometime calculated-- reaction towards a certain category of person—whether it be black, Jewish, Arab, or so on. Let us, for a moment, return to the story of the woman on the plane. Seated next to an Arab man, she made instant assumptions. How many of us would instantly leap to similar conclusions?

How many of us have stereotypes, prejudices, ingrained into our being? When I drive to Temple, I take IH-10. When I exit the freeway, at the first light, there are almost always homeless men or women with placards on the corner, asking for money. It's hard for me to roll down my window and give them money. Why? Because my instant assumption is that they are going to use that money for drugs or alcohol.

Whether or not this assumption is right, we can all relate to this view. This is an example of a prejudice. No matter how liberal, how kind, how thoughtful we are, we all walk around with prejudices coloring the way we act in the world.

We must continue to struggle against our natural tendency towards prejudice and judgment. “God's world is full of so many colors, shapes, styles, functions, purposes, and textures and this is precisely what makes the world so amazingly beautiful.” teaches Rabbi Arnie Sleutelberg.

We speak many languages, and populate the entire earth. We say that we value our different natures, our cultures, our languages. We have learned to communicate in different ways, and brought our world into a global village. Let us not allow our colors to become dim and ultimately disappear. Let us struggle against our personal prejudices, and work to embrace our languages, our cultures, our traditions.

May we understand that at the same time as we fight terrorism, we must also fight our own urges to label and judge. May we embrace our colors, in all their glory, and remember God's covenant with us.

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