June 22, 2008
(Sixth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 7)
Abraham, Part One
By The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean
Genesis 21:8-21 • Psalm 86:1-10,
16-17 • Romans 6:1b-11 •
Matthew 10:24-39
(From
The Lectionary Page)
Our first lesson today continues the story of Abraham. Despite the fact that Abraham is the father of all believers according to the Hebrew Bible, this great figure has garnered little attention in terms of monuments in art and stage and screen. There is no Michelangelo sculpture as there is of David, no spectacular depiction of outstretched fingers as there is of Adam in the Sistine Chapel. Joseph earned both a Thomas Mann Trilogy and an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.
Hollywood, too, as been neglectful of Abraham. Moses merits a Cecil B. DeMille extravaganza, and Indiana Jones first came on the scene searching for the Ark of the Covenant. But nothing for Abraham.
Author Bruce Feiler in his book Abraham writes that the patriarch’s life is a classic three act model ideal for the big screen.
Act 1 is his early life climaxing with his call from God.
Act 2 would focus on adventures on the road to Egypt and back, growing frustration with God, questions around conceiving a son, and the arrival of 2 sons.
This sets up Act 3 – the most action packed of all – in which Abraham is trapped in a deadly love triangle, confronts a life or death decision with his first son, and then must make a similar gruesome choice with his second son. (Abraham, p. 70)
Yet, Feiler writes, for all the action and drama in his life, the real story of Abraham is akin to a tale of two, mismatched friends, trying to figure their way out of impossible situations. (Ibid.) Perhaps something like Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple, where neurotic Felix and slovenly Oscar face life together. At times we wonder why God or Abraham bothers with the other.
In the Book of Genesis, God and Abraham go back and forth with and at each other, at times sparring, and at other times engaged in classic heavyweight prize fight. According to the text, both Abraham and God act or speak inconsistently, especially in the most trying of circumstances. (Ibid, p.71.)
Today’s reading takes up the saga at the point when Isaac, Sarah’s child, is weaned, approximately three years of age. Abraham throws a grand celebration. The day was incredibly mixed for Sarah, who had been childless for so very long. The boy she had delivered and nursed, this miracle child for God, now did not need her in the same way. Abraham, on the other hand, was joyously anticipating more time with his son. (Ibid, p. 72)
But of course, he already had a son. Ishmael, the son of Abraham and Hagar, the Egyptian slave of Sarah, was now 13. For the first 10 years of his life, it appeared that he would inherit all of Abraham’s wealth and lands, and more importantly, be the first citizen in the nation God had promised. The text indicates that Sarah was conflicted when she gave Hagar to Abraham as a surrogate. On the one hand, she said that through Hagar, she, Sarah, would have a son. But now that Isaac had been weaned, she was jealous and feared that Isaac would be treated as a second son, instead of Abraham’s true son. “Cast out that slave woman and her son, for a slave’s son, himself a slave, shall not share in MY son’s inheritance.”
Abraham was greatly distressed. He had two sons, he could not love one more than the other. And further, God was in the mix. The text gives a mixed message. God tells Abraham to do as Sarah says. Further, Abraham’s offspring will be counted through Isaac, and though he is the second born, he will inherit the land. Bu, God promises that Ishmael, who carries Abraham’s seed, will himself be made a nation. It is like an uncomfortable verdict in a family court: Isaac gets the land and Abraham’s name; Ishmael goes into exile, but he receives God’s most exalted blessing, a promised nation, and Abraham’s deepest remorse. (Ibid. p.73)
I began referencing the relative lack of attention paid to Abraham in art. But sculptor George Segal has created a work entitled Abraham’s Farewell to Ishmael housed in the Miami Art Museum. (You can see it at http://www.miamiartmuseum.org/collection-selected-segalgeorge.asp.)
Captured in painted the plaster, the elderly Abraham and teenaged Ishmael embrace, their arms around the others neck and shoulders touching, but not their torsos, as if the separation has already begun.
Hagar stands with her back to the men, her arms folded, a look on her face that blends uncertainty, pain, and a hint of disgust.
A towering rock is behind Abraham and Ishmael, and peering around the rock is Sarah, delightfully anticipating the banishment of the woman and child that threatens her son. (From 2001 homily by the Rev. Adrian Dieleman)
One need not know the story to sense the intensity of the moment that is depicted.
Into the desert of Beersheba Hagar and Ishmael go. They run out of water, death is near. Hagar helps Ishmael to the shade of a bush, and goes off so she cannot hear his final cries.
But God does hear the boy’s crying, and sends an angel to reveal a well of water. Ishmael has faced death directly, due to the actions of his father Abraham, but he has been rescued at the last minute by God. Cast out of his father’s house, he is saved by God.
Another story we are more familiar with, how Isaac will face death at the hand of Abraham, comes our way next week. Genesis treats both sons in similar fashion: neither is a pure victor, or a pure loser. And as Bruce Feiler writes, “This literary masterstroke, however, has caused endless problems for the] descendants [of Ishmael and Isaac to this very day.] (Ibid pp. 73-75)
When Hagar and Ishmael are banished from Abraham’s and Sarah’s household, they discover in the desert, in the wilderness that they are still God’s. The psalmist proclaims: “You are my God; be gracious to me, O Lord.” (Ibid.)
In our lives, you and I experience the desert. And a tendency is to feel that the wilderness is God’s punishment, or a sign that God has abandoned us.
Some deserts are not of our making but the consequence of others’ actions or simply how life unfolds. And then there are those other deserts you and I willfully and regularly create. Yet whatever the origin, the biblical story, as well as our own story, witnesses to the fact that in our desert times, when we are lost, dried up, and most alone, that is when we truly turn toward God. It sometimes takes a desert for us to sincerely cry out to God.
And God always hears our cries. God reassures us that we are his, sometimes in clear ways, sometimes in mysterious ways. No matter how much of our mortal life remains, no matter what our level of strength or reservoir of talent may be, we are always loved by God and precious to God. In baptism we are made Christ’s own forever. God made a covenant with Abraham and Sarah. Hagar and Ishmael belong to that same Covenant. In our baptism, we, too, enter into a covenant with God for all eternity.
Some times our journey with God is a masterpiece, a thing of beauty admired by many, or a joyful song to sing loud and clear and enjoyed for all around us. Other times, like the Odd Couple, we feel mismatched and unsure that the relationship with God can or should continue.
The key is to press on, for God is ever faithful. Abraham was conflicted about sending out Ishmael. Hagar faced the unknown wilderness. And God was with them. We are never alone, never forsaken. For that sure and certain truth let us live with thankful hearts. And press on, with the graciousness of God.
