The Whole You

Psalm 139
Proper 11 / Year A

“Lord, you have searched me out and known me.”

Thus begins the fabulous 139^th psalm; which declares faith in God’s unfailing and unflagging presence in our lives.  Adam, who after his initial transgression attempts to hide from God, serves as the psalm’s opposite.  From the psalmist’s perspective, there is nowhere one can escape from God.  He or she perceives God is present wherever we are and sees right through us.  And unlike Adam, the psalmist senses there is no need to hide.  He or she thinks of this as good news, as a blessing.

I wonder how we receive it.  Don’t we prefer a God who stays away until called upon?  When we need God we want God to be there to do our bidding.  When we don’t need God, we’d rather be left to our own devices and desires.  And the last thing we want is to allow God into the totality of our being, where lurks more than we are comfortable sharing with others, let alone even acknowledging to ourselves. 

I identify with the parable Jesus tells in today’s gospel reading.  I am like a fine field in which God has sown good seed.  I have been so very blessed in life.  I was born into a stable family during a time of American prosperity.  I have been educated, relatively healthy, and never once lacked for the basic necessities of life.  All in all, I’d say my life has given me many, many advantages to be a pretty good field.  There is no reason I should not be producing bountiful goodness and blessings.  And I am.

But there is something else happening in the field that is me.  Things grow and prosper that should not be there; things that are harmful, hateful, destructive, selfish.  Weeds thrive in the field that is me and I certainly don’t want you to see it and I don’t want God to see it either. 

Have you ever done group work with the Jahari Window?  Developed by two psychologists, it is a tool designed to help people understand who they based on self-perceptions and the perceptions of others.  (There is an image of the Jahari Window on page 6 of today’s bulletin).  It uses two criteria: What others know and don’t know about us and what we know and don’t know about ourselves. 

Participants in the exercise write down a series of adjectives describing themselves and then make a list of adjectives describing each of the other participants.  So, if you describe yourself as tall and others do the same, this word gets put into the box called the arena.  This box contains those things open and public about you.  Next, there are the adjectives you write about yourself, but others do not.  For example, if you don’t know we well you may not know I am an introvert.  It is something I have to tell you about myself in order for you to know.  The things I know about me but you don’t, are grouped in a box labeled façade.  Next, there are adjectives others use to describe you, but you don’t’ use to describe yourself.  For example, others may say you are funny or kind, but you don’t see yourself in this way.  These things go into a box labeled blind spot.  The only way for you to know these things about yourself is for someone to share it with you.  And finally, there are things you don’t know about yourself and neither does anyone else.  This is the unknown, but it is still a part of who we are and influences how we operate.

When we say the Lord knows us, we are affirming God knows everything about us – the arena stuff, the façade stuff, the blind spot stuff, and even the unknown stuff.  And this truth would be absolutely terrifying if not for one thing… the God who sees us loves us through and through without hesitation; without reservation.

How do I know this?  Well, look no further than this morning’s reading from the Book of Genesis.  Jacob has stolen his older brother Esau’s birthright and tricked his father into giving him the blessing belonging to his brother.  Esau understandably vows revenge and when their father dies Jacob realizes he must flee or be killed.  He moves fast and far, covering over 40 miles of the wilderness in one day.  One might think he would use this time to reflect on his life and amend his ways, but not Jacob.  He remains ever the schemer. 

Up until this point in his life, Jacob has demonstrated no perceivable act of faith.  He has not prayed, not sacrificed, not fasted, not tithed.  Neither has he engaged in a single recorded moral act of kindness or integrity.  Still, on this night, using a stone as a pillow, he falls asleep and dreams of a ladder or stairway extending up to the heavens.  A voice addresses him: “I am the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac” – Jacob’s grandfather and father.  Notice the Lord does not say “I am the God of Jacob” because Jacob has yet to bind himself to God.  And yet the God Jacob does not claim promises him protection, prosperity, offspring, and future ownership of the land on which he sleeps. 

When Jacob wakes he sets up a stone pillar and calls the place Bethel, which means “House of God”.  He then makes a vow: “If God will be with me and watch over me on this journey I am taking and if God will give me food to eat and clothes to wear, and if I return safely to me father’s household, then the Lord will be my God.”  This is not a confession of faith.  It is a negotiation; more ultimatum than obedience, more trial and testing than interest in relationship.  Jacob’s response to God amounts to little more than “What is in it for me?” 

How could God be even remotely interested in such a person?  Jacob is a whole lot of weeds and not a lot of wheat.  He hides much and is blind to a great deal about himself.  God sees it all and yet still loves him.  God loves Jacob unconditionally and will work to make him to be a fruitful and productive field.

Faith in this is why the psalmist can pray to God saying…

Search me out, O God, and know my heart;

try me and know my restless thoughts.

Look well whether there be any wickedness in me;

and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

The psalmist is not bragging arrogantly in his or her own goodness, innocence, and purity.  Rather, the psalmist is confessing a faith in God’s unconditional love:

No matter what I do – be it ever so it vile –

No matter where I go – be it ever so foolish –

You will remain with me.

There is nothing – nothing – I can do

to make you forsake me.

Yes, I can do much damage in life –

intentionally and unintentionally,

in thought, word, and deed –

but you, O God, never abandon me.

In essence, he or she is saying if God can love Jacob than God can love me.  I don’t have to hide a single thing about myself from God.  I have a harvest and I have weeds and God knows it altogether.  How can God love me?  Welcome me?  Embrace me?  Grace truly is amazing and I will claim its reality every day of my life!

New Seed / Different Harvest

Proper 10 / Year A
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Jesus’ parable of the Sower and the Seeds is surely one of his best known stories.  I like to think of the various soil conditions as not being reflective of different types of people – some being influenced by the evil one, others being unable to stand tall and stay true under pressure, and still others being so caught up by the cares of life they are unable to contribute much, while there are some whose receptivity marks their lives with fruitfulness and abundance.  Rather than consigning each individual person to one of these four types, I recognize how each soil condition is a part of my own make-up.  There are parts of me the evil one works on.  There are parts of me that withers under duress.   There are parts of me too preoccupied with “stuff” – both material and emotional.  And there are parts of me that are faithful and productive.  I suspect you can see the same in yourself.

Think about the farmland Jesus describes in his story. In terms of the categories of soil, fully 75% (three out of four) are bad.  Only 25% is as it should be.  But this is only in terms of categories.  In terms of actual acreage, most likely 95% of the soil will receive the seed and produce a rich harvest.  Only a small percentage will be lost to scavengers, rocks, and weeds.  And if we are like the soil, this means most of us do much more good than harm.  We give to life more than we take.  We are marked more by faithfulness than by failure.

In Jesus’ story, he is the sower, we are the soil, and the seed is what he gives to us.  It tells us each of us is full of potential.  The question is what happens to the seeds scattered on you?  How does it fall on you, turn into grain, and become a harvest?  And who benefits from the harvest produced by your diligence?  These questions are not easy to answer in normal times, but in these days the answers feel even more elusive than ever. 

Today is what some of my colleagues are calling the 18^th Sunday in Coronatide.  We are isolated and many of us are alone.  Most of our long established ways of contributing to the common good are not now possible.  We sense we are less productive, less fruitful, and less aware of all God makes possible in and through us.  We are more on edge, more confused, and more frustrated.

Yet somehow, God is still God and Jesus is still sowing seeds, and we still are farmable.  Yes, these difficult times have beaten us down.  Yes, we are not at our best.  And yes, the weeds of our cares and concerns are taking root and spreading.  But there is still much about us open to God’s gifts and much about us remains capable of producing something good, even in these times.

A recent survey learned 75% of employees feel overwhelmed and significantly less productive due to working from home and pandemic-related concerns.  We are having a harder time focusing, distractions abound, and worrying about things beyond our control is draining our emotional energy.  We have made bread and finished projects around the house and face-timed with family and friends all over the country.  We have done everything we can think of to stay busy and distracted, yet things are not getting better and our patience is wearing as thin as our motivation.  We just don’t feel like we are making progress and we are tired of feeling unproductive.

Peter Bregman’s father passed away recently.  Upon reflection he began to notice the grief he is experiencing at a very personal level is not so different from what all of us are experiencing in this time of pandemic, economic collapse, and cries for sweeping change in our society.  Bregman writes about his insight in a recent article in the Harvard Business Review:

I find myself a little lost.  I’m scattered.  Unfocused.  Struggling to be productive.  To move forward on anything in a meaningful way…  I really don’t like feeling all this.  It makes me anxious.

My instinctive drive to push past it kicks in.  To plan a to-do list and schedule my way to productivity and achievement and forward progress.   

That, I know how to do.  It’s my comfort during uncertainty.

But I also have an opposing impulse, a quieter voice, one that feels deeper, more profound, and even scarier: Stay unproductive.

At least for a little while.  Feel the sadness, the loss, the change.  Sink into the discomfort of not moving forward, not getting things done.  In a strange way, not progressing may be its own form of productivity.  Something fruitful is happening, we’re just not controlling it.

In this moment, being unproductive seems important.  I think it’s what I must feel — maybe what we must feel — to allow for growth.  To allow ourselves to pause in the liminal space, to linger with a question that this moment begs us to ask:

How can I allow myself to be changed?

Not, how should I change.  Or how must I change to keep up with a changing world.  And certainly not, how can I not change and preserve the way things have always been…

Can you allow this change in your world — deeply personal and vastly global — to wash over you, shift your worldview, change you?  Not with your discipline or drive, not from a self-directed, strategic, goal-oriented place, but from a place of openness and vulnerability.  Not from willfulness but from willingness.

And in that pause and openness and vulnerability, can you listen — without defense — to the voices you hear and the nudges you feel?  Can you find the emotional courage to follow your inklings, step by step, toward what, even just maybe, feels right?

I hear in this something of today’s parable.  We are in a time unlike any other in our collective lives.   We cannot produce nearly as much of what we used to create, if we can produce it at all.  We just can’t.  And this wears on us.  It erodes our reserves and stresses our ability to be true to how we want to be judged by God, our fellows, and ourselves.   

Since living with you in Suffolk I have observed something of the rhythms of the planting seasons.  Corn is seeded starting in mid-spring, but not all at once.  The planting season is spread out so a harvest will begin in June and extend into the fall.  When autumn comes a different seed is sown – winter wheat.  As its name suggests, it does well in a cooler season, a time not conducive to corn.  Once winter wheat is harvested, seeding corn or some other crop begins again.  And then there are those seasons when, at the farmer’s discretion, nothing is planted at all because the planter recognizes the need to allow the land to rest.

Bregman writes:

We all need emotional courage because being willing to be changed means we must accept and admit that we are not in control and we don’t know.  Two things many of us spend our lives scrambling and acquiring and competing and succeeding and workaholic-ing to avoid admitting.  It’s disorienting to let go.  To realize — to admit — that our control is really only a sense of control.

All of this is to say the Sower is still sowing, but it is not the same seed as before.  The season of Coronatide will not allow for it.  So God, in divine wisdom, is sowing a different seed in our lives.  And, for some of us, God is simply allowing us to be quiet for a time, allowing us to pause, to reflect, to discern, and to rejuvenate for a day to come. 

What new seed do you sense God is scattering in the field of your life?  What might this new and different harvest look like?  How will it bless you while serving others?  Where are you feeling attacked, under pressure, and emotionally disabled, the soil conditions Jesus describes in his story?  What will you do to open up more of the soil that is you to be the person you long to be in these times?

The Bible's First Prayer

Proper 9 / Year A
Genesis 24:34ff

What is the first prayer you ever said?  While I don’t remember the exact moment, I am sure it was either at the dinner table - “God is great.  God is good.  Let us thank him for our food” – or going to bed – “Now I lay me down to sleep.  I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”  I suspect I am not the only person whose life a prayer began in this way.

While one of these two may have been our initial prayer, neither is the first prayer recorded in the bible.  Surprisingly this event does not appear in the text until the 24^th chapter of Genesis.  Up until now, God appears on the scene and initiates conversation with a specific human being.  The person may or may not respond, but the response does not constitute a prayer.  It is either an answer to a question or part of a dialogue. 

Equally as surprising, the bible’s first recorded prayer is not offered by one of its main figures – not Adam or Noah or Abraham.  In fact, the person who offers the first prayer in the bible is not even named.  He is identified only as Abraham’s servant.  This trusted helper is given the task to return to Abraham’s ancestral homeland to find a suitable wife for Isaac (you may recall I mentioned in last week’s sermon it is curious Isaac himself does not make this journey or participate in the process). 

When the servant arrives at the village of Abraham’s birth, he rests at the town’s well and prays:

O Lord, God of my master Abraham, please grant me success today and show steadfast love to my master Abraham.  I am standing here by the spring of water, and the daughters of the townspeople are coming out to draw water.  Let the girl to whom I shall say, ‘Please offer your jar that I may drink,’ and who shall say, ‘Drink, and I will water your camels’—let her be the one whom you have appointed for your servant Isaac.  By this I shall know that you have shown steadfast love to my master.”

As soon as the prayer is finished, Rebekah appears and the rest is history.

The prayer contains several oddities.  One is its specificity.  There are many other ways to identify a bride-to-be… a light, an inner voice, or some other kind of sign.  The plan of the prayer has a lot of moving parts and hardly seems like a process God would propose.

Notice how the servant identifies himself to God.  He addresses the prayer to the God of Abraham and he describes Isaac as God’s servant.  In the mind of the person praying, each possesses a special relationship with God; one which he himself seems not to enjoy.  He never describes himself in relationship to God, only to his master… Abraham.  

     

The opening address in the prayer tells us much: “O Lord, God of my master Abraham”.  The Hebrew word translated here as O Lord is “El Shaddai”, which literally means “God of the mountain.”  It carries a sense of greatness and power and most often is translated as “Almighty God”.  In the polytheistic world religions of the ancient middle east, this would be the greatest of the gods – powerful, aloof, to be feared, and certainly not to be bothered with trifling matters like who says what to whom at a well. 

But the servant does not end his address to God with El Shaddai, he adds to it “God of my master Abraham.”  Again, in middle-eastern religions, there were the big gods who had control over things like the skies, fertility, and natural disasters and then there were personal gods whose interests were more focused on a specific individual, family, or clan.  The role these gods played in a person’s life was more like what we think of as a guardian angel.  To pray to the god of person X or the god of person Y was to entreaty a household god who was engaged with the day-to-day operations of the family.  In polytheistic thinking, El Shaddai would not be concerned with identifying a suitable wife for Isaac, but the God of Abraham would be.  

So, in this first prayer in the bible, offered by an unnamed servant, we find something truly revolutionary.  This person has come to see and sense how the Almighty God is intimately involved in the personal affairs of his master.  Now, this may not seem ground breaking to us today.  We pray to God for any number of very personal and at times trivial matters.  Abraham’s servant is the first person in the bible to recognize these two distinct functions of ancient middle-eastern gods are in fact part of the makeup and personality of the one true God. 

In this morning’s gospel reading we hear an invitation:

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

These words are rooted in the personal nature of God’s Being.  We live in wearying times and we are carrying heavy burdens.  Our Lord is concerned with our welfare.  Our Lord knows our need.  And our Lord offers help and comfort. El Shaddai – the Mighty One – listens intently to every prayer, even “God is great, God is good” and “Now I lay me down to sleep.”  And this great God and our God invites us to a place of rest and ease.

The Flaws of the Faithful

The Sacrifice of Isaac by Adi Holzer

Proper 8 / Year A
Genesis 22:1-14

The problem with history is (as we are seeing anew) if you look closely enough at the life of any person deemed to be a ‘hero’ you are going to find some flaws.  Some defects are so deep and pervasive as to disqualify a person from being an example to follow.  Other blemishes are more reflective of the times a person lives in.  These only become problematic as a new age with different values looks back on the past and condemns a person for little more than being a product of his/her times. 

Did you see the recent documentary chronicling the summer Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa competed to break baseball’s single season home run record?  At the time they were lauded for saving the sport as well as lifting up the American spirit.  But then it came to light their feats were fueled by the use of illegal steroids and their achievements were called into question.  Did their cheating invalidate their records and shame them or were they merely emblematic of what was happening on a grand scale in baseball at the time?  If you look closely enough at any hero you will find something not to like.

In recent weeks our Sunday Lectionary has us reading the stories of Abraham’s life.  He is credited with being the founder of the world’s three great monotheistic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.  St. Paul’s considers him to be an exemplary figure deemed by God to be righteous on account of his faith.  And yet the more we read of him, the more we wonder about his apparent lapses and indiscretions.

Abraham’s story begins in Genesis 12 when the Lord appears to him and tells him to leave his native home to go forth to land God will give to him.  The command includes the promises God will make of Abraham a great nation, his name will be great, and he will be a blessing to all people.  Abraham obeys, but is silent.  When he comes to the land God shows him, he finds it is ruled by the Canaanites.  He builds an altar, makes a sacrifice to the Lord, and settles here.  Then his flaws begin to show.

At the onset of a famine, Abraham abandons the land God promises and goes to Egypt.  Fearing he will be killed because his wife is beautiful, he instructs her to pretend they are brother and sister.  Abraham offers to the Pharaoh the women through whom he is to procreate a great nation.  Back in Canaan, Abraham has to go to war against four kings in order to save his nephew Lot.  Only after he is victorious does God promise to “shield” Abraham from harm.  Now he speaks: “What good is your protection if I do not have an heir?”  Again God promises fertility and again Abraham’s response is silence.

Last Sunday’s reading comes next in the story.  You remember how Abraham’s wife offers her slave Hagar to him.  She conceives and gives birth to Ishmael.  This arrangement rings neither of righteousness nor feels like an act of faith. 

Thirteen years pass.  Abraham is now 99 years old and God has promised him five different times over the years and years of his life he will be the father of a great nation.  His response now is to fall on his face and laugh.  When his wife hears God’s messengers promise she will have a child within a year, she too laughs.  But finally the promise comes to pass and Isaac is born.

In my reading of the text – and I may be wrong here and have no scholarship to support my view – I suspect something is less than perfect about Isaac.  Given his parents are elderly when he is born, is it possible he has a disability?  We know today there is a connection between Downs-Syndrome and the age of the parents at birth.  Is it possible Isaac is born with Downs?

The first evidence I see comes from last Sunday’s reading.  Do you remember how Ishmael, Isaac’s older half-brother, is observed mocking him?  Could this be a sign Isaac has a mental or physical disability?  When it is time for Isaac to marry, Abraham sends a servant back to his homeland to find a suitable bride.  Why does Isaac not go himself?  When the servant returns with Rebekah, she seems less than overwhelmed when she first meets her future husband.  Why?  What about his appearance is not what she imaged?  For Isaac’s part, he has been in mourning over the death of his mother and it is only after marrying Rebekah that he is comforted in his loss.  In his old age, Isaac will be duped by his son Jacob into thinking he is in fact Esau, Isaac’s other son. 

I suggest there is enough evidence in the biblical record to make my theory a possibility.  And if Isaac is in some way disabled, it sheds an interesting light on today’s reading. 

The Binding of Isaac is perhaps the most perplexing story in the entire bible.  Some make sense of it by trying to sanitize it: Abraham knew all along God would intervene and God knew all along Abraham would act in faith.  But if this is the case the story is drained of all of its drama and power.  Why even tell it if the whole episode is merely an exercise of going through the motions?  And if it is so straight-forward, how do we account for the fact it is never referenced anywhere else in the Old Testament?  The prophets don’t speak of it.  The psalm writers don’t include it in their songs of God’s presence in the lives of God’s people.  Moses does not reference it as a part of the story of deliverance.  Why?  Because it is a story so confounding no one knows quite what to make of it.

The text states clearly “God tested Abraham.”  And when God is satisfied Abraham has passed the test, the Lord says, “Now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.”  Is God trying only to determine whom Abraham cares about more… God or Isaac, his son?  Can God really be this jealous and petty?  Is this actually a test only about of priorities?

Or, if I am correct in my assumption about Isaac, is it possible the real test here is to see if Abraham believes God’s promise can be fulfilled through a physically and/or mentally challenged son?  It makes sense to me Abraham would wonder how his offspring will be as numerous as the stars if Isaac does not seem up to the task.  Is the question Abraham faces this: can God do something wonderful through a person who seems to be less than perfect?

There is so much to explore in this lean account.  I am always drawn to two things happening just as Abraham, armed cocked with knife in hand, dominates Isaac.  First, God speaks.  Always in the moment of our deepest need the Lord is present and the Lord reaches out to us; calling us to pause, to pray, to reflect, to be open to something – anything – from beyond.  And second, Abraham looks up.  Completely absorbed, and totally caught in what we might call tunnel vision, he breaks free of the moment, looks up, and in doing so sees what God provides. 

And do not underestimate the faith it takes to see God’s provision in the presence of the ram.  Abraham can easily push on with the task of sacrificing his son, being ever faithful and diligent to his initial interpretation of God’s will.  But in this most critical moment – in this moment where the stakes are so incredibly high – he is able to discern God working in a new way.  Just as he was able (in last week’s reading) to hear God’s promise to deliver Hagar and Ishmael, so too does he remain open to God’s working in a new and unexpected way through Isaac. 

In the end, I suspect this is why Abraham is remembered for his faith.  Yes, he is the first person to discern the nature of one true God.  Yes, he is willing to go.  Yes, he is willing to hope.  But he is also ever the pragmatist, weighing what God promises against the evidence of everyday life.  But somehow, through it all, there is something in him that looks like faith.

If you look closely enough at any hero you will find a flaw.  Since this is true, it follows if you look closely at your friends, your co-workers, your spouse, your family members, even your priest, you will find flaws!  And if you look closely enough at yourself, you will find what we find in Abraham.  And yet the bible elects not to define him by his flaws, but by his faith.  How do you look past the flaws of those you love to see their faith?  How do you look past the shortcomings of your friends and associates in order to celebrate their unique gifts and contributions?  How do you look honestly at yourself and acknowledge the sinner without ever dismissing or diminishing the child of God you are called to be?

The Slave Girl and Her Son

Genesis 21:8-21
Proper 7 / Year A

You are forgiven if you do not remember the story of Hagar from your Sunday School days.  It is a sordid tale most likely skipped over by the curriculum and/or your bashful teacher.  Legend holds Hagar is the daughter of an Egyptian Pharaoh who is given to Abraham’s wife Sarah as a gift.  Hagar becomes her slave. 

You know the primary drama of Abraham’s and Sarah’s life revolves around their inability to have a child, even though God has promised to make their descendants as numerous as the stars in the night sky.  When she is well-past the age of conceiving, Sarah conceives her own plan to fulfill God’s promise.  She presents Hagar to her husband hoping a child will be born through their relations.  For his part, Abraham seems more the willing to do his part. 

Well, Hagar becomes pregnant and will give birth to Abraham’s first child, a son… Ishmael.  But before this happens Sarah becomes jealous and treats Hagar harshly.  The pregnant slave girl flees into the wilderness where an angel of the Lord appears to her, promises she will be safe, and instructs her to return to Sarah.  From this point forward, Hagar addresses God as El Roi – the God who sees me.

Eventually Sarah conceives and gives birth to Isaac.  Ishmael is in his early teens at the time.  It is not hard to image the relationship between Sarah and Hagar is riddled with tension and bad feelings.  This is the background story to today’s reading and now you know why it wasn’t a part of your Sunday School education.

So, today’s reading.  Did you notice Ishmael’s name never appears in the text?  He is referred to as “the son of Hagar the Egyptian”, “her son”, “the boy” “the son of the slave woman”, and “the child”.  Nowhere does it state Ishmael’s connection to Abraham, his father.  Even God does not identify him by name.  Ishmael’s life is in jeopardy and everyone speaks about him only in the third person.  It is completely and thoroughly dehumanizing.  Having been treated this poorly, is it any wonder the angel who encounters Hagar when she is pregnant tell her that her son will grow up to be “a wild ass of a man whose hand shall be against every man, and every man’s hand against him; and he shall dwell in the face of all his brethren” (Genesis 16:12)? 

It is also curious that Ishmael’s big offense (according to the text) is Sarah sees him “playing” with his toddler half-brother.  Now the Hebrew word used here has some dark overtones.  Some versions of the bible translate it to read Ishmael was mocking Isaac. Because it is the same word used later in Genesis when Potiphar’s wife’s, in a lie, claims Joseph tried to make sport of her by sleeping with her, it is possible Sarah observes some type of molestation.  Another tradition holds Ishmael was sacrificing insects to a toy idol, in which case his play activity would have been a bad influence.  Yet another tradition holds Ishmael was using a bow to shoot arrows at his half-brother.  Whatever Sarah observes, her reaction to it is swift and volatile.  She demands the slave and her child be cast from the house, expelled from the land, and cut out of any inheritance.

While we hold all Scripture to be inspired by God, this does not preclude individual writers from having an agenda.  In this case, there is ample evidence the author of this account has a significant bias against Ishmael.  We see it in the lack of identifying him by name and we see it in the use of an ambiguous verb slyly hinting at scandalous behavior without any further supporting evidence.  Most likely the author takes this slant because he knows Ishmael goes on to become the patriarch of the Arabians just as Isaac becomes the patriarch of the Hebrews.

Even with its biased perspective, three amazing things about this story cannot be erased.  First, just as God appeared to Abraham years earlier to call him to a new homeland, so God appears to Hagar in the wilderness; first when she is pregnant and second when her situation is desperate and her son is near death.  It is the first time in the biblical record that God hears the cries of a person in need and responds.  It is as if a significant portion of God’s character and disposition has remained untouched and untapped until this moment.  Hagar is the first person ever to experience the part of God’s nature and personality that one day will deliver the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt, that the Psalmists will cry out to time and again, that the prophets will come to know as being decidedly for the poor, the oppressed, the outcast, and the foreigner, that Jesus and the New Testament writers will proclaim desires to deliver us from the bondage sin in order to thrive in the new life of Spirit.

A second truth in the story not easily hid is that God makes the same promise to Ishmael that God makes to Isaac: out of each a mighty and numerous people will arise.  God blesses both sons and their descendants.  We may want to claim God cares only for our tribe and despises others, but the biblical record states otherwise.  God’s blessing falls on all God’s children, regardless or race, nationality, or political persuasion. 

And a final truth – especially relevant today, Father’s Day – while the writer may not have held Ishmael in high regard, it is obvious his father Abraham cares deeply for him.  He has his son circumcised in order to be a part of God’s covenant promise.  He agonizes over Sarah’s demand to banish the mother and child, and consents only after God tells him not to be distressed.

Over the years, extra-biblical stories continue to emerge about Ishmael, just as they do about Abraham.  Both Jewish and Islamic traditions hold Abraham makes journeys into the desert to visit Hagar and Ishmael.  Muslims locate Mecca as the site where God reveals the water to Hagar and gives the blessing.  Here, Abraham discovers the ka’aba – the large black cube said to have been built by Adam.  Damaged by the flood in Noah’s time, Abraham and Ishmael come together to restore it.  When their work is completed Abraham calls on all creation to make a pilgrimage to Mecca – an act which to this day remains one of the five pillars of Islam.

Some traditions hold Abraham marries Hagar after Sarah’s death.  The bible records Isaac and Ishmael come together one final time to bury their father.  Like most biblical narratives, the stories of Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael, and Isaac are not told primarily to give us answers, but rather to challenge us by posing difficult questions.  We are not called to follow their examples as much as to question their actions, ponder the consequences, and look to God for wisdom and guidance in our own day.  What is this story stands out to you as something particularly relevant in our time?

A Kairos Moment

Matthew 9:35-10:8
Proper 6 / Year A

In her sermon last Sunday at the National Cathedral, the Rt. Rev. Marianne Budde, Bishop of the Diocese of Washington DC, noted New Testament Greek has two different words for ‘time’ – chronos and kairos.  Chronos refers to chronological time: 6:01, 6:02, 6:03…  When you ask someone the time you are inquiring about chronos.  Kairos refers to when the time is right or opportunity is at hand.  “Make hay while the sun shines.”  “Strike while the iron is hot.”  Both refer to kairos time.  Think about a football commentator who might say, “With six minutes left in the third quarter (chronos), this might be a good time to take a shot down the field (kairos).”

Bishop Budde stated she believes our country is in a kairos moment when we have the opportunity to create a society more reflective of the ideals set for by our founding documents; one moving us closer to God’s dream for all people (what we Christian’s call The Kingdom of Heaven).  Who saw this coming?  In the midst of a global pandemic, the death of a black man at the hands and knees of Minneapolis Police Officers has brought us to a kairos moment.  People of color are speaking out once again about the injustice they experience and this time white America is listening and willing to learn and to act. 

I’d like to think I am a good person.  I try to treat everyone with dignity and respect and even go out of my way to extend my value of civility to people of color.  Am I perfect?  Of course not, but I don’t think of myself as being a racist.  If you point out to me a way in which I am, I will repent and work to amend my attitudes and behavior.  And most of you, along with most of the white people I know, are good people; folks who try to look beyond the color of a person’s skin to the common humanity we all share as children of God. 

But the events of the last few weeks have got wondering if being a nice person is enough, why is our country still struggling with racism?  Sure, there are a few “bad apples” who make things difficult.  While their actions are an affront to what our country and our faith stands for, their presence alone cannot account for the brokenness in our civic life.  For the first time I am beginning to think about things like systemic racism and institutional racism.  I want to know more about what they are and I want to understand how they play out in our society.

I understand how phrases like Systemic Racism, Institutional Racism, Black Lives Matter, White Privilege, White Fragility, Reparations, and Defund the Police elicit an almost involuntary negative reaction in white people.  I understand this because it is a part of my initial response.  But I also recognize my first impulse is not necessarily the best course to take in any particular situation.  Thomas Jefferson did not say “The cornerstone of democracy is your gut reaction”.  He said, “The cornerstone of democracy rests on the foundation of an educated electorate.”  I recognize I need to learn a lot before I can begin to act in a thoughtful, meaningful, helpful way reflective of my pride in being an American and faithful to my calling as a child of God baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.

A week ago I had never even heard of the notion Defund the Police.  On the surface, it sounds like a completely absurd idea.  I committed myself to reading articles about it and to listen to those advocating for it.  I read about how Camden, NJ dismantled its entire police department in 2013 because the problems in it were so deeply entrenched reform was deemed not possible.  And I read about how they rebuilt the force on a new model using different, community-oriented methods.  I read about the positive results coming out of their efforts.

Now, I am not advocating for the Defund the Police movement, nor am I saying we in Suffolk need to dismantle our police force.  What I am saying is now is a kairos moment and we white people enter into first by listening and by learning.  Many of you have told me you have had enough of our society’s injustice, but you just don’t know what to do.  I have a four-part answer.  First, pray.  Second, listen to the experience of others.  Third, learn, explore, understand before dismissing something out-of-hand.  And fourth, act locally.  

We don’t live in Minneapolis.  We don’t live in Camden.  We live in Suffolk, VA, a part of the metropolitan region of Hampton Roads.  What is the policy of our police force with regard to restraint?  What are our statistics for incarceration based on race?  For educational results?  For income level?  For access to healthcare?  For representation at all levels of local government?  What do these numbers mean?  Are they reflective of a just society where everyone has an equal opportunity?  If not, what can we do about it?  Speaking only for myself, I will need to listen and learn before I can advocate for anything specific.

I am a member of Suffolk Clergy United (a multi-ethnic group founded five years after the shooting at the Charleston A.M.E. Church). We have been privileged to attend meetings with Suffolk’s Chief of Police, with the Sheriff and members of his Department, and with representatives of the Commonwealth’s Attorney Office.  All are actively engaged in community relations and (in my opinion) genuinely seek to make Suffolk a good and fair place for every resident in our community.  Are we perfect?  No.  But we are trying and I am sure this kairos moment will only bolster our resolve to move forward.

In today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew we find Jesus at an interesting juncture in his early ministry.  He has healed.  He has taught.  He has feed.  He has forgiven.  He has challenged the powers that be.  And he has amassed a following.  He has done all of this and yet he recognizes there is so much more to do.  And he recognizes how his human limitations mean he cannot do it all by himself.  Jesus knows he needs help.  So he calls twelve and appoints them as his disciples.  He gives them authority and sends them out to expand his work, giving them only the barest of instructions.  The message, it is not what you have that matters.  What matters is who you are and who is with you.

Jesus describes this moment in a metaphorical way: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”  The harvest is plentiful.  He is not talking about chronos time here.  He is not saying it is fall and the time for brining in the crop is upon us.  He is talking about kairos time.  We have an opportunity to spread the Good News.  People are open to it in ways like never before and we cannot let this moment pass.  Do borrow a phrase from the Navy, we need all hands on deck.

All kairos moments come about by the movement of God’s Spirit.  Some kairos moments are deeply personal and tailored to where you are as an individual…  the time comes for you to stand up for yourself, or to make a change, or to put away destructive behaviors and make a new beginning.  Other kairos moments are communal as it is with where we are in right now.  The harvest is plentiful.  You and I are called to be laborers who pray first, then listen, then learn, and then act.  It is not enough to spectate.  This kairos moment requires all hands on deck.