02/24/2013 ~ Second Sunday in Lent ~ Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 13:31-35 or Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a).
THE READING
Genesis 15:1b-12, 17-18 [ILV] ~ INTRODUCTION: The rituals explored in this passage are rituals of covenant, the great promise of God to humanity. Abram and Sarah are the vehicles through which the promises God makes are made to humanity. Hear now this reading as it is found in that portion of the Torah we have come to know as Genesis.
...the word of Yahweh came to Abram in a vision:
“Fear not, Abram!
I am your shield;
I will make your reward very great.”
[2] Abram said, “My Sovereign, my God, what good are these blessings to me, so long as Sari and I continue childless? My only heir is a foreigner, Eliezer of Damascus, who lives in my household. [3] Because you have given me no offspring,” Abram continued, “an attendant born in my house will be my heir.”
[4] Then the word of Yahweh, God, came to Abram. God said, “This one shall not be your heir. No one but your very own flesh and blood shall be your heir.” [5] Then God took Abram outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can! As many as that— so shall your descendants be.” [6] And Abram believed Yahweh; and God reckoned it to Abram as righteousness.
[7]Yahweh then said to Abram, “I am God who brought you from Ur of the Chaldeans, to give you this land as a possession.”
[8] Abram asked, “Sovereign God, how am I to know I shall possess it?”
[9] God answered, “Bring me a heifer, a goat and a ram, each three years old and a turtledove and a young pigeon.” [10] Abram brought all these, cut them in half and placed each half opposite the other. But Abram did not cut the birds in two. [11] Then birds of prey flew down on the carcasses but Abram drove them away.
[12] Now, as the sun was about to set, a deep trance fell upon Abram. And a deep and terrifying darkness enveloped him.
[17] When the sun had set and it was dark, a smoking barrier, a fire pot, and a flaming torch appeared. These passed between the halves of the sacrifices. [18] On that day Yahweh, God, made a covenant with Abram, saying, “To your descendants I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates,....”
THE SERMON
God of the Covenant
“On that day Yahweh, God, made a covenant with Abram,....” — Genesis 15:18.
Abram knew it was a dream. He was absolutely sure of it. Yet, he could not seem to wake up. His feet felt like they were suspended above the ground, floating, and he could not touch it. Something, he knew not what, was holding him in the air.
And then there were stars. He was surrounded by stars. They swirled around at a dizzying speed and lit the landscape below, that untouchable ground. He could see the moon more clearly than he ever imagined it could be seen. He reached out toward it with a hand and it skittered away, just out of reach.
And then there were torches. He was being carried along, floating through a pathway with torches on each side. Sparks sprayed out from each of them. He wondered if he would be burned by the cinders, but none seemed to come anywhere near the center of the path where he floated.
He could smell something. Was something burning? No. It was not that kind of smell. It did smell odd, though. He felt something. It felt like... hair. Was it Sari? Was it his wife?
He reached out to try to touch the hair. Yes. It was there. It was real. Suddenly he was wide awake. A fog lifted from his eyes. He realized he was lying on the ground next to Jamal, his camel.
He also realized the odd smell was nothing more than hair. It was Jamal, his camel. He also realized the hair was Jamal, his camel. The camel, his transportation for lo these last several years, was sitting on the ground, feet tucked in and he, Abram, was stretched out on the ground next to it. (Slight pause.) He spit, trying to get rid of a bad taste. Jamal snorted and then, as camels are wont to do, Jamal spit also. (Slight pause.)
Abram stood. The sun had just barely pushed its way over the Eastern horizon, so morning had, indeed, come. He reflected on what was still vivid about the dream while wondering what had happened to the night. Where had it gone? Why was there so much he did not remember? Why was there so much he did remember?
“Well, Jamal, where are we, anyway?” he asked the dromedary as he stood in front of it, staring into its eyes. “Where do you think we are? Where were we last night? Did we spend the whole night together? Did we spend the whole night right here? Do you remember what happened? I think I might remember. But I’m not sure I can quite explain it.”
Jamal said nothing, made no noise. And, yes, Abram knew Jamal was not going to be forthcoming about what had happened, whatever had transpired sometime in the middle of the night.
Abram also realized that what might be the most important fact to consider was he had spent the night in the desert and had not made it back to the camp where his family was. He knew his wife, Sari, would not be pleased.
Feeling, perhaps, old or at least a little worn, Abram climbed on the back of Jamal and touched the animal on its neck. The camel stood.
Tired, he leaned back and did not pay much attention to the trip, did not pay attention to where Jamal was going, confident the beast knew the way back to the camp. Toward mid-day Jamal started to make deep, guttural sounds. That’s when Abram knew they were getting close to home and slid off the animal, onto the ground.
He could hear the sounds of children. He could hear laughter. A baby was crying also. Abram came over a crest and could see Sari, tending a pot on a fire. He ran forward shouting, “Sari! Sari!” She ignored him.
He ran up and stood in front of her. “Sari! I’m here. I’m home!”
“Where were you? Were you partying again? You didn’t come home all night! I was worried sick.”
“I’m here now.”
“I have just about had it, you know,” was her reply. “You leave. You don’t tell me you are going. You don’t tell me where you are going. And I don’t like your friends. They drink too much wine. It’s not good.”
Defensively Abram said, “No. It was not them. I was not with them. I have not seen them in days, in weeks. They are just fair weather friends and I know that.”
“So who were you with?” she sneered. (Pause.) “No! It was not that one again, was it?” (Pause.)
Abram looked down at the ground. “You know, I really wish you would not call Yahweh, ‘that one.’”
“And what else should I call that one, this God you talk about? Have I every seen ‘that one?’”
Abram winced at the question. “No. But you have heard Yahweh,” he said.
“No. You hear Yahweh. I do not. I hear birds. I hear neighbors. I hear children. I hear the workers in our camp. I hear the wind. I hear the pots bang when they are lifted on and off the fire. I sometimes even hear laughter. But you! You! You hear voices. You hear this Yahweh.”
Having said the name Yahweh, she spit. It landed on a hot rock near the fire. It sizzled. (Slight pause.) “What,” she asked, “do you have to say for yourself?”
“Can I tell you what happened last night?”
He could feel her dark eyes looking right through him. “Do you think it will help?”
“No,” he answered. “But I need to say it.” (Pause.)
“So...?”
“Well, you are right. It was Yahweh.” (Slight pause.)
“And...?”
“And God said our reward would be great.” (Slight pause.)
“Right. Look, Abram, I love you. I went with you. I left the comforts of our great city, Ur. I left family and friends. I trekked with you across the plains. We became nomads together. Much to my surprise we have done well. But we remain childless.”
“Yes,” said Abram, “but Yahweh made a promise. My ‘own flesh and blood shall be’ my heir. And God had me look at the stars and said ‘...count the stars, if you can! As many as that— so shall your descendants be.’”
“And then... and then... Yahweh made a covenant with me. There was a sacrifice— a heifer, a goat, a ram, a turtledove, a young pigeon. I simply prepared it. Yahweh, God, eternal— God alone— God ratified the covenant with flame. If birds of prey have not yet devoured the carcasses, I can take you to see the remains. I can take you to where the making of covenant happened right now.” (Slight pause.)
Sari laughed. She went on laughing for some time. (Slight pause.) When she finished laughing, she glowered at him. “And you believed.”
Abram was silent and once more looked at the ground. (Slight pause.) “No. It is more than belief. I trusted. I trust God. After all, a covenant is about trust. It’s about who you trust. You said it yourself. You said you went with me, left the comforts of our city, left family and friends, trekked with me across the plains. We became nomads together.”
Abram continued, “That all may have been, as you said, because of love. But it goes beyond love to the place called trust. Perhaps covenant is where love and trust become intertwined, inseparable, eternal. Perhaps that is what really makes a covenant: trust and love wrapped in one. These are eternal.” (Pause.)
Sari was silent and looked at the ground. (Slight pause.) “Well, yes. Trust and growth and peace and respect and longing and joy and wisdom and freedom and hope and knowledge and understanding and love— all these are eternal. All these make covenant.”
“All these are eternal. All these make covenant,” repeated Abram.
“And you trust Yahweh, God,” said Sari.
“Yes,” said Abram. “I trust Yahweh, God.” (Slight pause.)
“Well,” said Sari, holding out a hand, “let’s get out of the sun.”
And hand in hand they walked together past Jamal, who was resting under a tree, snorting and spitting. Abram and Sari waked together in covenant and in trust and in growth and in peace and in respect and with longing and in joy and in wisdom and in freedom and in hope and in knowledge and in understanding... and in love. They walked toward their tent, hand in hand, to get out of the noonday sun. Amen.
02/24/2013
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York
ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Congregational Response and Benediction. This is an précis of what was said: “Theologian Walter Brueggemann has said this: ‘Covenant (and, therefore, true spirituality), consists on learning the skills and sensitivities that include both the courage to assert self and the grace to abandon self to another.’ In short, covenant is not possible unless you recognize the needs of others.”
BENEDICTION: “Let our hearts take courage. Our God meets us where our needs rest. God is our shelter and shield. God’s blessings outnumber the stars. Let us go on our way with Christ as our companion. And may the peace of Christ, which surpasses understanding, keep our minds and hearts in the companionship and will of the Holy Spirit, this day and forever more. Amen.”
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