Faithfulness and Hospitality

 Faithfulness and Hospitality

When God promised Abraham and Sarah that from them would come a multitude, that they would be the parents of nations and of kings, when God made that covenant promise, Abraham and Sarah had already shown faith. In Genesis 17 the promise seems all one way, but as the Apostle Paul pointed out, Abraham's faith “was reckoned to him as righteousness.” And they had shown it: traveling with Abraham's father up the Euphrates Valley from Ur in Chaldean territory near modern-day Baghdad to somewhere near Mosul or Kirkuk, but then Abraham and Sarah had struck off on their own through the desert and across to Syria, and down through the Judean hills, probably along the Gaza coast and into Egypt, and then back to the land of Canaan, where three angels, Genesis 18 tells us, found them resting with their flocks and herds in the front of their tent under the Oaks of Mamre. The land they travelled through was not deserted: this happened about a thousand years after cultivation began in Tucson - Jericho was half as old as it is now, olive trees that are old now (and still bearing fruit) were only a thousand years old back then. There were no borders, no walls, no iron curtains thirty feet high between countries, but there was desert, and mountains, and rivers, and plains, and people who could be hostile or friendly. And it was in this environment that Abraham and Sarah showed faithfulness, courage - trust in the promise, and hospitality. For their response to the strangers who approached their tent was radical hospitality. Come turn aside to rest, let us give you water and food. And then it was that the three who were one, who were God cloaked indeed in mystery, laid on them their strange promise: you will indeed have children, Sarah will bear a child. We'll be back and you'll see. No wonder Sarah laughed - with surprise but with delight and joy.

Faith was reckoned unto him as righteousness and their hospitality showed it in action.

• Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
• Romans 4:13-25
• Mark 8:31-38
• Psalm 22:22-30
• Genesis 18

After the Second Sunday in Lent, Year B

Father of a Multitude

I will make you father of a multitude. Well might Sarah laugh - as she does in the next chapter of the book of Genesis - when she hears God make this promise to her ninety-nine year old husband. She is old too. And yet shall she have pleasure? She asks you. And yet - the day comes when God's improbably promise is fulfilled. Not by the means they concoct - here is Hagar, take her - but by God's own improbable scheme. For he has more in mind than these two's progeny - or Abraham's "seed" (biological offspring). 

    God through these human mean will bring a new joy into the world, a new closeness between humanity and Creator. And not before time. It has taken three thousand years - so far - for us human beings to live into the implications of that promise. To live into that promise and the call in earlier chapters of the same book to both care for and commune with the creation of which we are a part. 

    Over and over God calls on the people to come into relationship, and offers a few ... guidelines. As my friend Lois used to put on the butcher-paper cover over her Bible: "If all else fails, follow the directions." 

    How are we to live? Here is a way: to become the parents of a multitude, the progenitors of faithful offspring beyond count. Beyond count and beyond the charts of genealogists and family therapists. (Tho hoo boy Abraham's children could use some of those as well... ) But the emphasis here is on the gift: the free gift of God to all humankind, through the faithfulness of Abraham and Sarah. And what is that gift?

    No less than life itself, life in communion with God, each other, our own true selves, and all creation.

    So easily broken is the covenant, so faithful is the promise, that we continually are called back into it.

    "If God is speaking, God speaks more often than people hear."--Tanya Luhrmann.

    God is speaking and offering life. A few people fishing, straggled along the shore of a small Mideastern lake, get the message - a bit directly. A man comes toward them along the shore, past the small mammals and large birds and shoreline plants and rocks, a man they may know - from a hill town some nine hours' walk away - or may not have met before: and he inhabits and manifests and makes known clear and loud the Word that is God come to humanity - and this time, to 'simple fisher folk', in the form of a man who works with his hands, and calls them.

    The man along the shore has something to say to the workers mending their nets - the two brothers, the other two brothers, perhaps an independent woman working her own boat - and offers them a wider world.

    Come with me and I will make you fishers of people.

    This calls them away from their everyday occupations. It requires another level of concern, of care, of commitment. 

    Who do you really serve? Ultimately who is your family? Where is your allegiance? Who is your god?

    “To what do we pay greatest allegiance? Family, language group, culture, country, gender? Religion, race? And if none of these matter, are we urbane, cosmopolitan, or simply lonely? In other words, how do we decide where we belong? What convinces us that we do?”--Toni Morrison, 2002 lecture.

• Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
• Romans 4:13-25
• Mark 8:31-38
• Psalm 22:22-30

http://edgeofenclosure.org/lent2b.html

Tanya Luhrmann, Noel Q King Memorial Lecture, "Voices of Madness, Voices of Spirit" - (https://youtu.be/MTyxhro_Apw).

Toni Morrison, 2002 lecture, quoted in The New York Times: The Essential Toni Morrison by Veronica Chambers, Feb. 18, 2021(https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/books/best-toni-morrison-books.html).

The Rev. Dr. John Leech is an Episcopal priest, a Benedictine oblate, and a friend of the Iona Community. He has served congregations in northern California, western Washington, and southern Arizona.

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

legacy

Yesterday my wife and I drove to Cochise County to see the Sandhill Cranes. We drove south from Benson through Tombstone and then east into the Sulfur Springs Valley to Whitewater Draw. 

"I see a large bird."

"I see lots of large birds!"

"Wow!" 

We laughed in delight as we walked over to a shallow marsh where the birds were congregating like a crowd of cabbages, or lifting off and flying, circling or moving away high into the sky, always calling to each other. 

When we got back there was a message from a friend. He had looked up "sandhill cranes" and sent me a picture of two. I called them Abram and Sarai.

Then I sent him my own picture, of a multitude of cranes, with the caption, take two, multiply by ten thousand, then set them all a-flight.

In the evening Miles Green sent me a picture he'd just taken of the cranes resting again at sunset.

See for yourself at "cranes com" - https://www.azgfd.com/wildlife/viewing/webcamlist/sandhillcrane/cranecam/)

Or go!

So the story of a man and a woman, of Abram and Sarai, now to be called Abraham and Sarah, becoming the blessed forebears of a multitude, and a source of blessing to all people, is not so alien to Arizonans. 

It can happen. 

We have seen it.

A season of promise becomes a heritage of blessing.

So the promise, Paul says, comes to the children of faith, and it is through faith that we inherit the blessing, that we become the children of the promise.

I'd been thinking of Lent as a season of preparation for Holy Week, Good Friday, and Easter.

But here it is founded in hope. Lent is a season of promise, fulfilled in Good Friday and Easter.

For Jesus' whole life was a testament to faithfulness. Even unto Death he did not fail.

And we share in his rectification, his glorification, his resurrection, as he is raised from the dead in triumph over Death, and his faith communicated through his first witnesses, and comes to us.

Witnesses - for witness is the basis of discipleship, of following Jesus - from Mary at the Tomb to his astonished Apostles, to -- us. We did not see but yet may Believe. 

It is said that one sign of his truth is the crowd of witnesses we have Become.

We have seen life transformed, we have seen hope in the midst of Despair, Joy in the middle of sorrow.

We have seen small become great, and we have seen the mighty overcome by the true.

Faithful adherents, to the promise, joining in the heritage that two small creatures began, that grew into a multitude, a crowd of witnesses like a cloud above us and circling around us, in which we delight, and at last share in peace.

Jesus invites us to take up the cross

Jesus invites us to take up the cross  

It is when I am not sure that I feel God the most, said my friend.

It is when the path is darkest that I’m sure the light is there.

It is when I let go that I receive.

It is when I stop guarding myself from God, when I start trusting God, when I step out in faith, into the night, that I find my way.

That I find – his way.

It is not really my way at all; it is his.

If you would follow me, you must deny your self – your life, your inmost being; you must take up your cross and prepare to die with me; you must follow me.

But! You are the Messiah. What is going on here? 

It is necessary…

Is it? 

Get behind me, Tempter! For your thoughts are not God’s thoughts nor your ways God’s way: if you try to preserve your self you will lose your self, if you lose your self, you will gain life.

It is when I am not sure that I feel God the most. 

It is when I let go and trust, 

when there is nothing to turn to, 

and no light on the way, 

that I know I am homeward bound.

There is a breath in the midst of the darkness, 

in the absence a pregnant pause:  he is listening; 

the world is listening, it knows he is coming.

It is when I find no purpose inside myself, 

and no hidden inner resource, 

that I am most thrown back upon God, who is faithful. 

When the promise is impossible, then it is kept.

When I no longer try to keep it to myself, I fully receive it.

I am most receptive to God’s leading, when I am least sure of my own.

When I am not sure where to go, what to do, where he wants me to go, what he wants me to do, 

it is then that I feel God the most.

It is when he is absent that I know he is here. 

It is when I give up my self, preserving my own life, my way, 

that I find my way, gain my life, and receive my self.

(When I am most fully myself is when I am least full of myself!)

When I chose this passage from Genesis 17 for an ordination anniversary Eucharist, last summer, I was remembering the promise: I will make you ancestor of a multitude – of many who receive the blessing, who share in the faith; who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.  

Abram and Sarai are newly called in to covenant as parents of the promise, as parents of the faithful. They are faith-parents to faith-children; those who live in faith all are their descendants.

Our children are children of faith,

Our legacy is a legacy of hope,

Our mission is a mission of love.

The mission is the message: faith and trust and hope abide; and end in love, as they began – in Christ, in the bearing of the cross, love’s redeeming work is done.

Jesus invites us to take up the cross.

Second Sunday in Lent * March 4, 2012 

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16 

Psalm 22:22-30

Romans 4:13-25

Mark 8:31-38


Jesus invites us to become his true disciples: to take up the cross and follow him

The Binding of Isaac

In the name of God, source of all being, eternal Word and Holy Spirit. Amen. Some Muslim friends once invited me to join them in celebrations of the feast of Eid al-Adha, the commemoration of God’s providing the Ram to Abraham as a substitute for his son. I remember watching the sheikh take hold of the lamb, who was indeed as innocent and passive as a lamb led to the slaughter, explaining that he was not slaughtering but sacrificing the animal, then quickly, deftly and quietly cutting its throat. The lamb just as quietly and quickly passed away. He repeated this act with a few more lambs, which various members of the group had dedicated, and then let the rest go. I remember how happy I was to watch the survivors gambol back up into their pasture. And I remember as I watched their brothers being slain, thinking two thoughts: How glad I was that we do not have to do this, and, Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Listening to the reading from Genesis, we may wonder: what was Abraham thinking? Where did he get the idea that he should sacrifice his son? That God would want that? What kind of a god would ask this? What kind of a father would think to do it? The surrounding cultures, as I understand it, worshipped gods who did indeed require human sacrifice – just as much as the god of the Aztecs did. The cult of Moloch demanded the burnt offering of the firstborn son. Somehow Abraham got into his head the idea that this may be required even of him – that the God who has led him to the promised land, has given him his son, has promised him uncounted progeny – that somehow this is the same god. All the way up the mountain, Abraham kept faith with God. Believing in the promise he somehow continued to expect the impossible. He laid the firewood on Isaac’s back – like requiring a man to carry his own cross – saying, “God himself will provide the lamb.” Not knowing what would happen, in the fear of God he bound his son, and took up the knife. The angel stayed Abraham’s hand, and showed him the ram in the thicket. I think there is more going on here than the substitution of a sheep for a man. God did not require the death of Isaac. He required his life – that is, that Isaac and all the future and the hope that he represents, belongs to God, not Abraham. This life is not a life to be grasped onto but to be freely accepted as a gift from the willing hand of God. Abraham responds to God’s call in faith, in obedience, yielding all claim to ownership to what is most precious to him – the promise, the future and the hope embodied in Isaac – and he dedicates that beloved Child to God, to God’s purpose, not his own – and it is through the efficacy of this obedience, this act of faith, that Abraham becomes the father of nations – not through heredity but through faith in the love of God. And it is this faith that gives him descendants innumerable. “I will shower blessings on you, I will make your descendants as many as the stars of heaven and the grains of sand on the seashore.” (Genesis 22.17) Abraham chose obedience. Through his radical obedience, Abraham became the father of our faith, the exemplar of total trust in God. What he was required to yield up, that which was most precious to him, what had to be relinquished to God when God required it, was Isaac’s life – not his death, but his life. The future and the hope that Isaac represented were not for Abraham to own and to master, but for him to trust in God to provide, just as he provided the ram in the thicket on the mount that came to be called, “God provides”. When he set his face toward Jerusalem, Jesus began to teach his disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be rejected, and be killed, and after three days rise again. Jesus chose obedience – he lay his own life down, that very life that was to become the first fruits of the resurrection. Life is not to be grasped to oneself, but to be freely offered in obedience to God. Jesus did not give just his death to God; he gave his life – a life of integrity, of witness, of proclamation. He took up his cross rather than live a life of self-protection. Jesus kept faith with God, proclaiming in word and deed the reign of God’s love, of justice, peace, and forgiveness. He embodied the fullness and image of God’s compassion and love for humankind. Just as Abraham traveled to a distant land ready to sacrifice his beloved son, so Jesus, knowing full well that it might cost his life, traveled up to Jerusalem to give witness to the reign of God. [He took up his cross rather than living a life of self-protection. We participate in the life of Christ, in the proclamation of the kingdom. We receive the life he continues to give to us. By his life we live. His life makes it possible for us to live faithfully, in radical obedience to God, with a future and a hope. To live in faith is costly; God asks a lot of us. Life is full of frightening and painful and hard things. We have this consolation, that Jesus went through this already and goes through this with us –we are not alone, and death is not the end of the story. No place we are ever asked to go – no height nor depth, no hardship or distress, no persecution or famine, no epidemic, no war - can take us away from the love of God. He has been there already. He is there with us. And he will bring us through to the other side. No other thing is required. God’s mercy is full and complete. He takes us from the broken places to wholeness, from the darkness into light; we were lost and are found.] Grace is costly, but the price has been paid in full by God himself. On the cross he made, by his one offering of himself, a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, once for all. For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.


A sermon for St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Sacramento March 12, 2006 Second Sunday in Lent (Year B) BCP Lectionary Readings: Genesis 22:1-14, Psalm 16:5-11, Romans 8:31-39, Mark 8:31-38 [Section in brackets was presented at 8am but not 10am service.] The Old Testament lesson for the daily office on Good Friday is the Binding of Isaac.

Sources and inspirations:
William Blake, “Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau”
John Bowker, ed., “The Sacrifice of Isaac”, The Complete Bible Handbook (Dorling Kindersley, 1998), p. 39.
Barbara Crafton, “The Lesson We Have to Preach On”, The Almost Daily eMo, March 9, 2006 (www.geraniumfarm.org)
The Jerusalem Bible, Reader’s Edition (Doubleday, 1968)
The Jewish Study Bible (Oxford University Press, 2004)
Søren Kierkegaard, “Eulogy on Abraham”, Fear and Trembling (1843), Edited and translated by Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton University Press, 1983) p. 15-23.
Sarah
Jude Siciliano, O.P., “First Impressions” (http://www.opsouth.org/Preachers%20Exchange/firstimpresscurrent.html)
Hugh Talat Halman, “Id al-Adha”, World Book Encyclopedia (2004)

JRL+

The Binding of Isaac

In the name of God, source of all being, eternal Word and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Some Muslim friends once invited me to join them in celebrations of the feast of Eid al-Adha, the commemoration of God’s providing the Ram to Abraham as a substitute for his son. I remember watching the sheikh take hold of the lamb, who was indeed as innocent and passive as a lamb led to the slaughter, explaining that he was not slaughtering but sacrificing the animal, then quickly, deftly and quietly cutting its throat. The lamb just as quietly and quickly passed away. He repeated this act with a few more lambs, which various members of the group had dedicated, and then let the rest go.

I remember how happy I was to watch the survivors gambol back up into their pasture. And I remember as I watched their brothers being slain, thinking two thoughts: How glad I was that we do not have to do this, and, Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

Listening to the reading from Genesis, we may wonder: what was Abraham thinking? Where did he get the idea that he should sacrifice his son? That God would want that? What kind of a god would ask this? What kind of a father would think to do it?

The surrounding cultures, as I understand it, worshipped gods who did indeed require human sacrifice – just as much as the god of the Aztecs did. The cult of Moloch demanded the burnt offering of the firstborn son. Somehow Abraham got into his head the idea that this may be required even of him – that the God who has led him to the promised land, has given him his son, has promised him uncounted progeny – that somehow this is the same god.

All the way up the mountain, Abraham kept faith with God. Believing in the promise he somehow continued to expect the impossible. He laid the firewood on Isaac’s back – like requiring a man to carry his own cross – saying, “God himself will provide the lamb.”

Not knowing what would happen, in the fear of God he bound his son, and took up the knife. The angel stayed Abraham’s hand, and showed him the ram in the thicket. I think there is more going on here than the substitution of a sheep for a man.

God did not require the death of Isaac. He required his life – that is, that Isaac and all the future and the hope that he represents, belongs to God, not Abraham. This life is not a life to be grasped onto but to be freely accepted as a gift from the willing hand of God.

Abraham responds to God’s call in faith, in obedience, yielding all claim to ownership to what is most precious to him – the promise, the future and the hope embodied in Isaac – and he dedicates that beloved Child to God, to God’s purpose, not his own – and it is through the efficacy of this obedience, this act of faith, that Abraham becomes the father of nations – not through heredity but through faith in the love of God. And it is this faith that gives him descendants innumerable. “I will shower blessings on you, I will make your descendants as many as the stars of heaven and the grains of sand on the seashore.” (Genesis 22.17)

Abraham chose obedience. Through his radical obedience, Abraham became the father of our faith, the exemplar of total trust in God.

What he was required to yield up, that which was most precious to him, what had to be relinquished to God when God required it, was Isaac’s life – not his death, but his life. The future and the hope that Isaac represented were not for Abraham to own and to master, but for him to trust in God to provide, just as he provided the ram in the thicket on the mount that came to be called, “God provides”.

When he set his face toward Jerusalem, Jesus began to teach his disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be rejected, and be killed, and after three days rise again. Jesus chose obedience – he lay his own life down, that very life that was to become the first fruits of the resurrection. Life is not to be grasped to oneself, but to be freely offered in obedience to God. Jesus did not give just his death to God; he gave his life – a life of integrity, of witness, of proclamation. He took up his cross rather than live a life of self-protection.

Jesus kept faith with God, proclaiming in word and deed the reign of God’s love, of justice, peace, and forgiveness. He embodied the fullness and image of God’s compassion and love for humankind. Just as Abraham traveled to a distant land ready to sacrifice his beloved son, so Jesus, knowing full well that it might cost his life, traveled up to Jerusalem to give witness to the reign of God.

[He took up his cross rather than living a life of self-protection. We participate in the life of Christ, in the proclamation of the kingdom. We receive the life he continues to give to us. By his life we live. His life makes it possible for us to live faithfully, in radical obedience to God, with a future and a hope. To live in faith is costly; God asks a lot of us. Life is full of frightening and painful and hard things. We have this consolation, that Jesus went through this already and goes through this with us –we are not alone, and death is not the end of the story. No place we are ever asked to go – no height nor depth, no hardship or distress, no persecution or famine, no epidemic, no war - can take us away from the love of God. He has been there already. He is there with us. And he will bring us through to the other side. No other thing is required. God’s mercy is full and complete. He takes us from the broken places to wholeness, from the darkness into light; we were lost and are found.]

Grace is costly, but the price has been paid in full by God himself.

On the cross he made, by his one offering of himself, a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, once for all.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.



A sermon for St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Sacramento
March 12, 2006
Second Sunday in Lent (Year B) BCP Lectionary Readings:
Genesis 22:1-14, Psalm 16:5-11, Romans 8:31-39, Mark 8:31-38

[Section in brackets was presented at 8am but not 10am service.]

Sources and inspirations:

William Blake, “Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau”

John Bowker, ed., “The Sacrifice of Isaac”, The Complete Bible Handbook (Dorling Kindersley, 1998), p. 39.

Barbara Crafton, “The Lesson We Have to Preach On”, The Almost Daily eMo from GeraniumFarm.org, March 9, 2006 (www.geraniumfarm.org)

The Jerusalem Bible, Reader’s Edition (Doubleday, 1968)

The Jewish Study Bible (Oxford University Press, 2004)

Søren Kierkegaard, “Eulogy on Abraham”, Fear and Trembling (1843), Edited and translated by Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton University Press, 1983) p. 15-23. (See selection from another translation at http://www.columbia.edu/cu/augustine/arch/kierkegaard.html)

Sarah C. Leech

Jude Siciliano, O.P., “First Impressions” (http://www.opsouth.org/Preachers%20Exchange/firstimpresscurrent.html)

Hugh Talat Halman, “Id al-Adha”, World Book Encyclopedia (2004)