sermon notesA collection of resources, background information, and periodic reflections on the scripture readings in worship from Pr Josh Ehrler. Archives
July 2018
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Strong Women of Scripture: Hagar5/30/2018 During the summer of 2018, Trinity Lutheran will be meeting and interacting with a variety of strong women found in scripture. Some will be familiar, other will be new acquaintances. This reflection is meant to introduce a new woman each week and provide thoughts on how we might be inspired by her strength and faith in God.
Our reflection is for Genesis 16.6-14 Hagar’s presence is borne out of impatience with the circumstances of life and she continues bearing disappointment throughout her life with her fortitude. We’re introduced to Hagar because Abram and Sarai have not been able to conceive a child. Since God’s promise to Abram in chapter 15 is dependent on childbirth, the couple reaches beyond their tent and Sarai brings forth Hagar, whom the narrator identifies by name, ethnicity and job title. She is an “Egyptian slave-girl” given over to Abram to alleviate his anxiety and, her very existence is fraught with pain and lack of power. We can’t go far into her story without spending time with her identity. As with many women characters of the Bible, her very being is not hers to claim. Hagar is owned by Sarai; she has no say over how she will be used and in what ways she must serve her master. Naturally our gut reaction to start making arguments of history and culture and different times and people and yet, it is unavoidable for us, especially us American Christians of the 21st C, to make direct parallels between Hagar and the countless unnamed African women who were enslaved across the US and forced to surrender their bodies to their owners. Hagar’s lot was wrapped in shame and utter disregard for her humanness bearing the image of God. Sarai shows no care for her life, only that she is of an age to produce children and is readily available. This abuse has played out across time and space and must be noted somehow as part of our not-so-distant American history, as well as the not-so-secret realm of human trafficking that continues along our interstate system today. Hagar is no simple prop to help Abram and Sarai get what they want, though that is clearly their expectation. She is a powerful Egyptian woman who makes her own mind up, after the deed is done, that she’s done with these two characters. It doesn’t matter to her what God told Abram. In verse 6, after one last tirade from Sarai, Hagar takes her life in her hands and runs for the wilderness. As Terrence Fretheim points out in his commentary in New Interpreter’s Bible Volume 1, Hagar would prefer freedom in a violent, unsafe landscape over a life of oppression in the tribe (pg 452). Finally on her own and able to speak for herself, Hagar finds herself in the presence of an angel of the LORD. Some commentators prefer to downplay this interaction, noting that it’s a messenger of God and not God’s true form being revealed to Hagar. That’s a fine attempt at diminishing Hagar and it doesn’t fit the text, or the experiences of others in scripture who are encountered by God in various forms. Moses sees clouds (and a mysterious backside of God), Job is met by a tornado, Ezekiel witnesses all sorts of whacky visions, and Jacob wrestles a human form. All of these people are changed forever by their experiences. Being in the presence of God is transformative, an act of re-Creation on God’s part for the sake of the individual. Also, all of these examples are men, because it is incredibly rare in all of scripture for a woman to be met by, to interact with, and to name God. Hagar, who is never named by Sarai or Abram by the way (Women in Scripture, pg 86), uses her voice and her words to give God a name. And once again we are tempted to downplay this act in verse 13, since we know that God’s name is YHWH. No one can name God who’s name is already known. That’s true and Hagar knows this. In the Hebrew, where our English is translated “the LORD,” we find God’s true name, YHWH. She names YHWH ‘El-roi,’ a reference to how she came to know that God was with her. She has been seen by God. She has spent her adult life as a check box on a supply ledger in Sarai’s books. She has been carted around from place to place by a couple who cannot even bother to speak her name, let alone treat her with human dignity. She has been hauled into Abram’s bed and when she did everything she was told, she was verbally berated by her owner. Hagar has gone unnoticed, disregarded and tossed aside without anyone caring for her. No wonder our God of mercy and steadfast love shows up and makes her presence known in the wilderness. God sees Hagar. God loves Hagar. God provides Hagar with nearly the same promise God gave Abram in chapter 15. Tikva Frymer-Kensky, contributor to Women in Scripture, says, “Hagar is Abram’s counterpart.” (pg 87) Hagar receives a promise of life beyond her own, she is warned of suffering to come, she is assured of God’s care, and later in Genesis both her son and Abram’s will be rescued from death. Wilda Gafney, contributor to The People’s Bible gives God’s promise of life to Hagar a powerful name, “dynasty.” (pg 146) God will not allow Hagar to continue feeling unrecognized by the LORD. God has heard her cries, not unlike God hearing the cries of the people enslaved by the Egyptians in Exodus. Fretheim helps us firm up this parallel by drawing us to verse 11, noting that God’s word use is nearly identical to God’s description of the suffering Israelites (NIB, pg 452). God is establishing a pattern of liberation and compassion in the earliest chapters of the Bible, and God does it here for a woman easily ignored by everyone but God. Her name is Hagar. She is an Egyptian. She will bear a son, one who will not be hindered by the constraints that bind her. Ishmael will be bold, powerful and unkempt. He will push back against those who try to oppress him and he will be an instigator of change. It is tragic that Hagar must return to live with Sarai and endure her abuse and in Genesis chapter 21, Hagar will be free of them again. Her hope, then, is grounded in God’s Word spoken directly to her by our LORD who sees the suffering ones of this world and acts on their behalf.
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Speaking of Faith in Ezekiel 375/16/2018 Our reflection is for Ezekiel 37.1-14
In our text for today, all of life might be captured in one line. “O LORD God, you know.” This is Ezekiel’s response to God’s nearly absurd question about the vitality of a valley full of dry bones. The bones have been sitting in repose in the desert for years, many a generation or two, and they are desiccated. Harsh winds, no moisture, no shelter, plenty of heat and light, as well as scavengers, have transformed fallen bodies to sacred relics long ago abandoned. Katheryn Pristerer Darr, contributor to The New Interpreter’s Bible, hints at some of the archaeological scholarship that implies this was likely a battle scene. Though, as Darr quickly notes, “This is…a visionary experience, not actual contact with human remains.” (NIB, pg 1499) It doesn’t matter how we got here, the point is we’re here, wherever that is for each of us. And as we look over the valley of our lives, confronted by the signs and evidence of death and devastation, all we can say to God’s question of life is, “O LORD God, you know.” Darr gets to the heart of this scene when she points out that Zeke’s “response is vague.” We can’t hear it, we weren’t there the first time, we can’t know exactly what he was thinking, feeling or wondering (Darr, pg 1499). However, we know ourselves. We’ve said this to God before in countless shades of light and shadows. We have screamed it, cried it, prayed it and sang it. This one phrase is our life with God. Zeke has been lifted by the hand of God in a mystical vision quest from wherever he was to this scene of destruction. We don’t talk much about mystical experiences, at least not my Lutheran tradition, which allows us to discount them and feel ill at ease when one is shared with us. Ezekiel, in his intimate relationship with God, is transported out of his known reality and surroundings and is carried by God to a space that represents all he knows and yet, is not exactly his reality. Because, as we can see and read, Zeke isn’t dead. This isn’t a Dickensian moment for Zeke to look over a series of what-ifs meant to fix his state or get him back with God. Fundamentally, God is reminding Ezekiel, and we the current readers, that God is with us. God sees the signs of death and disappointment scattered about our lives. God names them in the question, “Can these bones live” because God knows already what our response will be. Some days there is nothing else we can see but our failures and our fear of abandonment. At some point along our path we trip over the relics of our sinful behavior or simply our inability to overcome the forces that drag us down. We can’t outrun our diagnoses, we aren’t strong enough to stop military might, we don’t have the voices to silence calls for violence and hate. Wherever our valley may lie and our hope is desiccated, there we will find God. Which is why this one statement, “O LORD God, you know,” is all we can speak. It is flooded with tears of our frustration and lack of hope. It is carried by our honesty that we really have no idea where to go or what can even be done. It is lifted in faith back to God because we know that, even though we are out of options, God also knows. And God, our God, will respond. Because God knows what to do. Not that there is some sort of master plan and God will get us back on track. There is no underlying purpose, path or reason for our suffering because God does not intend for our suffering. These lifeless bones strewn around us are not placed here by God as a test or proof of our resolve. They simply are because death moves through life. And God moves, too. It is by faith that we can know that God is still our source of life. So we say it with hope. “O LORD God, you know (because I ain’t got a clue).” We say it with resolve. “O LORD God, you know (because you’ve got me).” We say it with confidence even when as we can see is our demise. “O LORD God, you know (because you are God).” We say it and give it back to God, our source, our life and our compassion. God holds us in God’s hand in the midst of our sorrow and reminds us that this valley of dry bones was never God’s intent, either. Corrine Carvalho, contributor to Fortress Press Commentary on the Bible: The Old Testament and Apocrypha, names a powerful sign of God’s love through suffering by linking Ezekiel’s statement to the cries of refugees forced to abandon their loved ones for their own safety. This scene “validates the community’s sense that their own visions of a better world are not silly, insignificant pipe dreams. They are what God wanted all along.” (pg 799) One Million Bones was a 2012 art installation in Washington, DC, intent to be stark reminder of the cost and effects of genocide. The installation also pointed its audience to the survivors of these heinous acts, the refugees who are compelled to flee their known reality as they run with little of their own selves toward an unknown future. Carvalho deftly weaves this art and the daily suffering of unnamed refugees back to Ezekiel’s statement, reminding us that his one sentence is a despondent sigh and a new breath. Carvalho is also drawing us out of our own valleys to remember the countless barren, lifeless landscapes God’s people navigate across Creation. And that none of is part of a plan or purpose from God. God strives toward new life and needs to get Zeke out of his head and his fears by revealing God’s power and wind. God draws us up from what we expect and even makes us part of the restoring work by giving us the words to speak on God’s behalf. God fills our lungs with fresh, invigorating air, to declare that God knows and God responds. Where we can only see death and crackling bones, God can still see movement and abundance. Ezekiel needs this hope. We daily need this hope. That our response to God, when our LORD asks what more can be done, will ever be “O LORD God, you know.” |