A Son Promised to Abraham and Sarah

This summer the church of St Raphael in the Valley, Benson, Arizona, using the Revised Common Lectionary, is following the semi-continuous track 1 for the first reading, beginning in Genesis... 

In the story last week, we heard of Abraham and Sarah leaving their family to follow the promise of God into a new land.  There God would make them a blessing to many nations.

Now we are getting deeper into the cycle of readings about Abraham and his family, which begins in the 12th chapter of Genesis and continues through until the 36th chapter. Last week began that cycle as soon-to-be long-suffering Abram and Sarai left the place their family had begun to settle and ventured south into the promised land. Only to find that it was a temporary respite. 

In today’s first lesson, they share that respite with others. They extend classic Middle-Eastern hospitality to strangers, offering water and rest and food to three travelers. Sarah and Abraham are tent-dwellers, with their herds and flocks and servants around them, and they are resting under the trees and the tent-flap on a hot day. 

[This reminded me of the journey of the Odyssey, where a long-suffering hero travels through many countries before he could reach his own. Like Abraham and Sarah, on the way he encountered divine messengers.]

We can imagine who these three travelers are, who turn up at the Oaks of Mare. What comes of it, along with the hospitality, is a promise. “I’ll come back this way next year and Sarah will have a son.” A pleasant prophecy but unlikely to be fulfilled - unless God is speaking. 

And so there is a promise given. It will be renewed and repeated, to Abraham and then his son and then his grandson. Abraham and Sarah are already traveling, venturing, on the basis of earlier promises. Go to the land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation. But how are you to become - here it is! the Fathers’ Day reference - father of many nations? Abraham and Sarah are old, they have journeyed far already; they are in the midst of – what proves to be – a very long wandering navigation of the Fertile Crescent, from Iraq to Syria through Palestine, down to Egypt and then back north again to Palestine where they settle down at last. 

And yet they are following a promise that will be fulfilled: for a child will be born to them, as subsequent events bear out.

There is a promise - and there is more: for faith, hope, and love abide, these three, but the greatest of these is love. 

We see faith at work in the relentless courageous obedience and trust of Sarah and Abraham as they venture forth from home ground, seeking beyond the familiar what is only familiar to them as they are God’s people.

We see hope at work. Hope that persists beyond toil and travel and despair, injury, bad weather, woeful barrenness and impossible pregnancy, there will be a child, and children. There will be a place for them at last, in the promised land. War will not prevent them, nor drought, nor incapacity. They will make it there. They will find it home.

We see love at work. Love between husband and wife. Love, compassion, caring for the strangers. Love, in the expectation of a child. Love, in seeing a future with hope. Love, in the strangers’ promise. And love, in its fulfillment.

This is part of the ongoing story of Abraham and Sarah, and their family. Of love, hope, and faith. And through faith, hope, and love, it is our story too.

We seek a future with hope. We come to expect the fulfillment of the promise. The promise that is behind and beyond all these other promises. 

Beyond despair or deprivation or strife, animosity or the cessation of good will, there will be and is, a greater good, a greater peace. And we are called to proclaim it, and to live into it. The peace of God, the love of God, hope in God, faith in God.

You will see from the day’s prayers, and from the gospel, that we can have that expectation, that is more than a dream, a hope and faith and love that will bring God’s love into the world, in the children of Abraham that are all those who share his faith. And that promised land will begin right here, as we, children of the promise, of faith and hope and love, seek and make a new community and a new home with all those who respond to the call.

###

As he sent them out for the first time, Jesus commanded his disciples: “As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’” 

That is the message. The one who sent Abraham and Sarah on their journey is the one who is sending the disciples on theirs – a mission that belongs to all his followers, from then on. It is ours as well as theirs. 

Abraham and Sarah were told that they would be a blessing to many nations. Those nations are us. And the message that in those nations would be established the kingdom of peace. The reign of God is what encompasses and embraces all who seek the peace of God.

Jesus sends out those first disciples on an early mission. They go before him into the villages of Israel, with a message and a ministry. We too proclaim the kingdom in both deed and word. This congregation, I am told, has many ministries to those around us, strangers and residents, as they are in need.

This congregation has a ministry to those around us as we welcome them into our celebrations. In these ministries we proclaim the good news, we live the good news, we celebrate the good news. The ministries make manifest the reign of God. We show that the kingdom of heaven has come near. 

Those early disciples, messengers of the reign of God, were so urgent on their mission that they traveled light. Lucky for them that ancient Mideastern tradition of hospitality had not worn off. 

As they entered villages where they might find a welcome, and be able to rest and even, we can imagine, receive water and food. They might find a welcome for their message. Not everywhere, nor with everyone. Where they did not, they could move on. 

Where they did receive a welcome, there was much to talk about with those who received the message: How do we live out the good news? How do we live as citizens of the kingdom of heaven? What does the reign of God look like? How does it begin to show? How do we live into it?

We receive, and we give. May God’s love go with you today and always. May you carry with you Jesus’ message of peace, and the promise of Abraham and Sarah. May faith, hope, and love abide with you, and go with you.

For the kingdom of heaven is near. Right on top of you. Proclaim it with joy.

JRL+

June 14th 2026 : 3rd Sunday after Pentecost. San Rafael, Benson.

The Lessons Appointed for Use on the Sunday Closest to June 15

Proper 6, Year A, RCL, Track 1  

Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

Romans 5:1-8

Matthew 9:35-10:8(9-23)  

 

The Collect (Episcopal)

Keep, O Lord, your household the Church in your steadfast faith and love, that through your grace we may proclaim your truth with boldness, and minister your justice with compassion; for the sake of our Savior Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Prayer of the Day (Lutheran)

God of compassion, you have opened the way for us and brought us to yourself. Pour your love into our hearts, that, overflowing with joy, we may freely share the blessings of your realm and faithfully proclaim the good news of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

***

From the Lectionary Page (https://www.lectionarypage.net/):

"What are “Track 1” and “Track 2”?

During the long green season after Pentecost, there are two tracks (or strands) each week for Old Testament readings. Within each track, there is a Psalm chosen to accompany the particular lesson. The Revised Common Lectionary allows us to make use of either of these tracks, but once a track has been selected, it should be followed through to the end of the Pentecost season, rather than jumping back and forth between the two strands. The first track of Old Testament readings (“Track 1”) follows major stories and themes, read mostly continuously from week to week. In Year A we begin with Genesis, in Year B we hear some of the great monarchy narratives, and in Year C we read from the later prophets.

Oaks

 It’s amazing! It’s as if you’ve been running around a foreign country and you’ve finally bumped into people who are speaking your language. 

On the day of Pentecost the Spirit reversed the confusion of the Tower of Babel into coherent speech for a diverse multitude.

The Spirit gives us utterance in different ways, expressions in different gifts. The Spirit gives us understanding and inspiration in different ways and by different means. 

How is the experience of the gathered disciples and their hearers on the day of Pentecost, two thousand years ago, to make a difference to us now? 

Will we, gathered or scattered, hear, each in our own heart language, the word of God? Will we be inspired? Will we act - apparently crazy -dancing and singing and praising God? Will we - apparently sober - go out and do the things Jesus commanded us to do?

Will we visit the sick, pray with the despairing, speak out for justice, reach out to the lonely? Will we listen to each other in solemn assembly, seeking the guidance of the Spirit in our decisions? 

Will we have reason to? And how will we encounter the Spirit in our own life and times?

On the border now they talk of encounters with migrants, asylum seekers, refugees, and the desperate wanderers who lose their way. Encounters. Better perhaps than simply saying arrests, as many have entertained angels unawares. This week I encountered a man who asked directions to the bus station. I gave them to him. Then I thought, too late, that I could have given him a ride in the heat of the day. 

There is a story in the book of Genesis. In the heat of the day, while he was sitting in the door of his tent, Abraham encountered three men, strangers to him, who came to him at the Oaks of Mamre, and he offered them hospitality. The hospitality of his tent, his household, his family. 

Sometimes all someone asks of us is directions. Sometimes we are offered the chance to do much more. If we have eyes to see. The three strangers were indeed grateful for the hospitality they received and in turn gave a blessing only they could give. Your wife, they said, will at last bear to you the child you both have sought. And that child - through its descendants - will become the host of the world.

We do not meet God in the person of angels, dressed as strangers who wander through the desert. (Do we?) We do not meet Jesus in the flesh. (Though sometimes we wonder.)

The Holy Spirit is the God we encounter. We have not seen the Father, and Jesus, since his Ascension, has left us in the care of the Comforter, the Advocate, the Teacher; the one who comes alongside us, and yet remains unseen. Unseen, that is, except through permeance. 

Permeating through all of our encounters with each other, and, all unawares, with angels. Pervading too all our days, ordinary and especially significant. 

Look through the prayer book and you will see the Spirit landing upon the baptized, inhabiting the confirmed, blessing the married, consoling the bereaved and accompanying the sick even unto the death bed. Look again and you will see the Spirit invoked upon the ordained, and called upon to bless new ministries and sacred places.

Listen as we celebrate Eucharist, or say our daily prayers. You will hear the Spirit speaking. For the Spirit is here present among us, and through that invisible permeating influence God is here.

Hear the Word. Touch the cup. Taste the bread. Say “peace” to your neighbor. Come Holy Spirit. Come to us. Amen.

This meditation, based on a sermon given on the Day of Pentecost, appeared on the Arizona Daily Star website June 4th 2023 under the title "Encounters with the Spirit are all around us"  (https://tucson.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/encounters-with-the-spirit-are-all-around-us/article_a00ae510-ff02-11ed-a83c-2788b4905516.html) 

Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)

Acts 2:1-21

permeance

In preparation for officiating at a wedding I consulted a long out-of-print book, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, and in the marriage rite I found a prayer that begins,

 

O ETERNAL God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life;  (1928 BCP Marriage)

Reflecting on that prayer, I realized that it applied well beyond that moment - that special moment indeed when we invite the blessing of the spirit upon the now-to-be wed couple. It applies to all sorts of occasions. And I noted that the spirit, the holy spirit, is there in the marriage rite, as it is in pastoral and episcopal offices of all kinds, from marriage to baptism to burial, reconciliation of a penitent and ministrations to the sick or dying, from confirmation to ordination to the celebration of a new ministry and the consecration of a sacred space. Some of these may come up soon in this congregation. 

And of course in our new (1979) prayer book all of these rites and offices take place in the context of the community that is gathered in the Eucharist. We are one body, and we are one in the Spirit. 

The Spirit gives us utterance in different ways, expressions in different gifts. The Spirit gives us understanding and inspiration in different ways and by different means. This is the one Spirit that God breathed upon the waters at creation, that inspired ecstatic prophesying - dancing and exclaiming in praise - inside and outside the camp on Sinai, that frightened the prophet Joel. 

This is the same Spirit that reversed the babble of the Tower into coherent speech for a diverse multitude on the first day of the church, the day of Pentecost.

It’s amazing! It’s as if you’ve been running around a foreign country and you’ve finally bumped into people who are speaking your language. 

We remember, as every school child must, that the feast of Pentecost expands for us the meaning of an earlier festival, the Jewish feast of Shavuot, that was a harvest feast at first, then became the day of thanksgiving for the giving of the Law to the people, through Moses, on Sinai. 

How is the gift of Law, of Torah, to a distant people at a distant time, almost mythical, to help us today? How is the experience of the gathered disciples and their hearers on the day of Pentecost, two thousand years ago, to make a difference to us now? 

Will we, gathered or scattered, hear, each in our own heart language, the word of God? Will we be inspired? Will we act - apparently crazy - as the Israelites did, dancing and singing and praising God? Will we - apparently sober - go out and do the things Jesus commanded us to do?

Will we visit the sick, pray with the despairing, speak out for justice, reach out to the lonely? Will we listen to each other in solemn assembly, seeking the guidance of the Spirit in our decisions? 

Will we have reason to? And how will we encounter the Spirit in our own life and times?

The Rev. Kaji Douša, senior pastor at Park Avenue Christian Church in New York City, traveled to Tijuana, Mexico, in 2018 to provide pastoral care to asylum seekers. Douša has said, “To reject a migrant is to cast away God’s angels, which I am unwilling to do.” https://theconversation.com/when-faith-says-to-help-migrants-and-the-law-says-dont-203087

On the border now they talk of encounters with migrants, asylum seekers, refugees, and the desperate wanderers who lose their way. Encounters. Better perhaps than simply saying arrests, as many have entertained angels unawares. This week I encountered a man who asked directions to the bus station. I gave them to him. Then I thought, too late, that I could have given him a ride in the heat of the day. 

There is a story in the book of Genesis. In the heat of the day, while he was sitting in the door of his tent, Abraham encountered three men, strangers to him, who came to him at the Oaks of Mamre, and he offered them hospitality. The hospitality of his tent, his household, his family. 

Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)

Sometimes all someone asks of us is directions. Sometimes we are offered the chance to do much more. If we have eyes to see. The three strangers were indeed grateful for the hospitality they received and in turn gave a blessing only they could give. Your wife, they said, will at last bear to you the child you both have sought. And that child - through its descendants - will become the host of the world.

We do not meet God in the person of three angels, dressed as strangers who wander through the desert. (Do we?) We do not meet Jesus in the flesh. (Though sometimes we wonder.)

The Holy Spirit is the God we encounter. We have not seen the Father, and Jesus, since his Ascension, has left us in the care of the Comforter, the Advocate, the Teacher; the one who comes alongside us, and yet remains unseen. Unseen, that is, except through permeance. 

Permeating through all of our encounters with each other, and, all unawares, with angels. Pervading too all our days, ordinary and especially significant. 

Look through the prayer book pastoral offices and you will see the Spirit landing upon the baptized, inhabiting the confirmed, blessing the married, consoling the bereaved and accompanying the sick even unto the death bed. And it is the Spirit of God that enables us in turn to comfort, celebrate, cajole, and encourage, the baptized, the married, the bereaved, the sick and dying, the joyous and even the oblivious. 

Look through the Episcopal offices and you will see the Spirit invoked upon the ordained, and the presence of the Spirit called upon to bless new ministries and sacred places.

Listen as we celebrate Eucharist, or say our daily prayers. You will hear the Spirit speaking. For the Spirit is here present among us, and through that invisible permeating influence God is here.

Hear the Word. Touch the cup. Taste the bread. Say “peace” to your neighbor. Come Holy Spirit. Come to us. Amen.

***

Sunday, May 28, 2023: for the Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, Tucson, Arizona.

permeance

'Cause I feel like I-I've been running around a foreign country and I've finally bumped into two people who can speak English.  (https://transcripts.thedealr.net/script.php/yesterday-2019-XtmS)

Veni Sancte Spiritus (Taizé) Come Holy Spirit... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8yOAxWyfvA 

A meditation based on this sermon appeared on the Arizona Daily Star website June 4th 2023: https://tucson.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/encounters-with-the-spirit-are-all-around-us/article_a00ae510-ff02-11ed-a83c-2788b4905516.html

The Lessons Appointed for Use on the Day of Pentecost (Whitsunday) Year A:

• Acts 2:1-21
• or Numbers 11:24-30
• 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
• or Acts 2:1-21
• John 20:19-23
• or John 7:37-39
• Psalm 104:25-35, 37

O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.Amen.

he sent them

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

Bill Pronzini is a mystery writer. He says there are only two stories in the world: some one goes on a journey; and a stranger comes to town. Some one goes on a journey; a stranger comes to town. In fact, there is only one story: just with two points of view.

Strangers came to our village: a pair of them. Fishermen, from Galilee, by the looks of them. Andrew, and the big quiet one, Peter. Rough hands. Rough voices. Rough manners…. They told us straight out – in fact, they blurted it, like bad news: the kingdom of Heaven is at hand. God’s rule is about to begin. Here. On earth.

In this village? I don’t think so, I said. The temple guards come and take their tax. The Romans come and take theirs. And then the tax collectors come again, for theirs.

But they had something to show us. Something to offer us. They healed the sick, they raised the dead – raised the dead! – and all in the name of one Jesus, of Nazareth.

He is the one, they said. The messiah. The one every body has been waiting for, to put things to rights. To put the temple people in their place – and send the Romans back to theirs.

No, no, no. Not yet: already, but not yet.

What’s that supposed to mean?

The kingdom of God is breaking in – like a thief in the night. The Romans cannot even see it; the temple proudies won’t know it until it’s right on top of them.

For now, prepare. Get ready. Tell the word – show the deed. The reign of God: it’s coming. Look sharp – starting acting like it. Start acting like God is in charge of the world. Start acting like the creator is the redeemer, the one who will bring us peace. The one we can rely on. To make us right with God, to make us free of our chains – our chains of misery and of hate and of fear, of suspicion and jealousy. The disease of human weakness, greed, power-hunger, lust, all its many symptoms: he will cure us.

He is curing us. Through these disciples he sent to us he is sending the word – the news. They act as his agents. They bring his message. And they show us the power – the power only the people of God could have.

They want us to join them. To carry the message beyond our village, beyond our borders, beyond our comfort zones – beyond any familiar territory. And they want us to begin by telling our neighbors, people like ourselves, as they have done, telling us.

They were Jews, like us. People who worked with their hands. People who prayed, too, with their hands – hands uplifted to God.

He sent them to us, first, the ‘lost sheep of the tribe of Israel’. For a season, we heard the message. And then they moved on, across the world, finding among us those who would travel with them, work with them, spreading the news and living the word.

Come with us, now: into the new world, the new millennium, the new age. Come into the kingdom of Heaven.

Because there are only two stories in the world – and really, there is only one: it is only a matter of perspective.

There are two kinds of people in the world – aren’t there? Jew and Gentile? Maybe, but maybe not: as Jesus taught us, as he showed us, all are welcome at God’s table.


There was another place, another time, with other strangers showing up – accepting hospitality at the tent of Abraham, the welcome work of the hands of Sarah as she prepared for them quick bread, Johnny cakes made from three measures of meal. She laughed, when she heard their promise: your wife, though she is now old and past the age for childbearing, will indeed bear a son. And in him you will be blessed, and all the peoples of the world will find their blessing as well.

How can this be? It’s past my time. No wonder she laughed.

And then she laughed out of wonder. For they heard her, quietly chortling behind the tent flap – and said, “Is nothing too wonderful for the power of the living God?”

Oh, my. Now she knows whom they’ve got in their tent. God’s messengers. Angels. They might as well be the three persons of the Trinity, in the flesh. And they tell her something impossible, something that only God can do – and they say it with power:

And indeed she laughed again. This time, not out of disbelief or surprise, but JOY. For she had a son, and she named him Isaac, which means “laughter”.

And the sign of God’s promise was there, God’s promise fulfilled, with more to come. The joy of all the nations, the blessing they all would find, came through this little gathering in a tent, where Abraham and Sarah and their household had rested.

They went on from there, into an uncertain future: a future filled with the promise of God and the challenges of the world, and it was only through faith – trusting in God – that they could see that it could ever be made right, ever be made possible.

The strangers who arrived at the tent received the hospitality that was the custom of the desert peoples, the wanderers; the same hospitality that the disciples sought, when they walked the same desert. They too brought news – of the birth, already of a messiah, and soon and already but not quite yet, of the messiah’s heaven-sent rule.

To be right with God arrives for us as an unexpected gift.

Sarah did not expect the good news of a son – and she might well have been worried how she was going to bear such a gift.

The disciples arrived unheralded in the small towns and villages, the countryside and the hinterlands, of a forgotten Promised Land: a place under the thumb of empire, collusion-rent by quislings running temple rackets. And yet they believed; they knew; they’d seen it: the kingdom of heaven was at hand. And they trusted so much what they had seen and heard and held in their arms, that they too could bring the good news, and the healing that heralded God’s kingdom, as they spread the word around the world they knew – and then beyond it to lands unknown.

We follow in their footsteps – the footsteps of the people who trusted God, and carried his promise. The footsteps of Sarah, who brought into life the son God had promised, and of Abraham who with her traveled into unknown lands, following the promise and the guidance of God. The footsteps of the disciples, who brought the word to people eager to hear it – and to be healed, and made right, body and soul.

We follow in the footsteps of the one they followed – the one who bore in himself the kingdom, and shared it, his own body broken for us, his own life given. We follow and find our disbelief turned to joy, our sorrows to laughter, and our prayers to praise. Amen.

AProper6 2008
The Readings for June 15th, the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 6):
Genesis 18:1-15 * Psalm 116: 1, 10-17 * Romans 5:1-8 * Matthew 9:35-10:8

"There are only two kinds of people in the world - people who like oregano on their spaghetti and people who don't."--attributed to Jim Shelby, raising his hand to interrupt a lecture in humanistic psychology....