Sermon for Sunday, March 8, 2009

Genesis 17:1-7; 15-16

Rev. Sharon James Fazel

"Family"

“Esther Pauline Friedman [known as “Eppie”] came into this world 17 minutes before her sister Pauline Esther Friedman (known as “Popo”).”  Born on July 4, 1918, these daughters of Russian Jewish immigrants grew up in Sioux City, Iowa. “The identical twins dressed alike, took the same classes, even shared the same purse, with one set of keys, one comb, one lipstick. They slept in the same twin bed. The first time they were separated, in fact, was after their double wedding” in 1939, when both were 21 years old.

             

“The middle-aged Esther Pauline, [‘Eppie,’] hooked a job replacing the original Ann Landers at the Chicago Sun Times. Two months later Pauline Esther, [‘Popo,’] started her own column with the San Francisco Chronicle, calling herself Abigail Van Buren. Ann sniffed to Time [magazine] that her sister Abby’s column was ‘very imitative.’ The feud was on. For eight years the two women who had dispensed advice to thousands,” as ‘Dear Abby’ and ‘Dear Ann Landers,’ “could not resolve a petty family squabble.”                                                                 (The Student Bible, NRSV, Zondervan: 1994, p.64)  

The two supposedly reconciled in 1964, but after Ann Landers’s [Eppie’s] death in 2002, their families told conflicting stories about the truce. Abigail [Popo] had contracted alzheimer’s by the time her sister died in 2002. Although she was told of Eppie’s death, she is said to have forgotten it immediately.

Interestingly enough, this account is from The Student Bible, in a section of commentary that prefaces the story of Joseph and his brothers, in the late chapters of Genesis. This is the story where Joseph’s older brothers first throw him in a well, then sell him into slavery, only to later be saved from starvation and ruin by the very brother they plotted to kill. The section title in The Student Bible for the discussion, reads: “Family Battles: the closer they are, the harder they fight.”

Indeed, the story of the identical twin sister advice columnists with nearly identical names, Esther Pauline and Pauline Esther, is an apt modern parallel. But – I’d be willing to guess that any one of us here with brothers or sisters, or both – or simply with parents or other relatives who have, or have had, brothers or sisters or both – could vouch for the fact that siblings… just fight with each other! Family members engage in mutual combat, sometimes literally – sometimes for rather obvious reasons of physical abuse or injury; sometimes for reasons of mental illness left untreated, or grossly misunderstood; sometimes because of personal jealousies or long-held grudges; and sometimes for the simple reason that families are made up of human beings who exemplify the full breadth of human behavior, no matter how much they claim to love each other. Where does such “relational challenge” begin? It begins when a unit becomes “family.”

The same is true for this morning’s biblical account of Abraham and Sarah, who are taken into covenant with a God who promises that their heirs shall populate the Promised Land. “And I will give to you, and to your offspring after you, the land where you are now an alien, all the land of Canaan, for a perpetual holding; and I will be their God.” This story, then, is in part the beginning of the story of the People of Israel – who are the “family” of Israel’s God. We have been introduced to the characters of Sarai and Abram, but in this story of today’s reading, this man and this woman become new. They are given new names: Sarah and Abraham. This happens despite the fact that Ishmael, the son of Abraham and Hagar, who was a slave to Sarah, is already a strapping teenager. Abraham and Sarah receive new names as a way of designating them as the people of Israel. Ishmael will beget his own line of nations. But Sarah and Abraham will beget Israel, “the people of God.” Ironically, in the late chapters of Genesis, it is the Ishmaelites to whom Joseph’s brothers sell him!

But just as with the stories of our own families and conflicts among family members, merely stating the “facts” of a situation –in other words, what happened – never presents a full picture. Indeed, even what happened is different, depending on whom one asks! There is always more to the story, and there is always a context within which every story exists.

This story of God’s covenant with Sarah and Abraham to make them heirs of the Promised Land, even in their advanced age, scholars tell us was written during the time of the exile of the Jews in Babylon, when the Temple was destroyed and the population was shipped out in droves to live in foreign lands. They lived under foreign leadership, with foreign customs, amid foreign beliefs. “The promises of God,” therefore, were something that the people of Israel, separated from their homeland and from their own families, really needed to hear. They needed something to remind them of who they were. And so, this story of God’s covenant, reminding them that they were tied to their homeland, no matter how far away or how dispersed their families; no matter how ridiculous a claim of deliverance may have seemed to those living in exile – such a promise was immeasurably important to those for whom this story was told. And that promise is as important to us today as it was to the Israelites of those early, desperate times for the people of Israel.

As one of your pastors, I know that these are desperate times for many of us here this morning, in this community, as well. Babylon may have been a literal place of exile at the time our story was written, but today offers every bit as potent an exile for those separated from family by many means other than geography. Physical illness, mental illness, estrangement and misunderstanding, self-appointed psychological exile, voluntary separation, regret, anger, dementia, cancer, death … by any number of means. All of these descriptions influence our own community here and now, today, serving to exile us from the love of our families, and from the promises of our God. And yet, equally as important to this story as the succession of children from Abraham and Sarah -- is God’s part of the covenant: “I will be their God.” God is part of the equation of family-making! God will belong to us, as much as we belong to God. We will be in relationship with God, forever.

I know that some of you have read a book titled The Shack, by William P. Young. A friend at choir practice the other night told me that she’d concluded, after doing her own survey, that people either really liked it, or really dis-liked it, but no one was “in between.” Well, leave it to me … I’m afraid I’m still “in between.” But I’ve not quite finished the book yet.

The book does, however, have an innovative way of portraying and conveying “relationship.”  After the account of a tragic family incident, a trinity of important figures emerges alongside the protagonist of the story, whose name is Mack. The threesome includes God, a large black woman who calls herself “Papa;” Jesus, a middle eastern looking day laborer, not particularly good looking, but with a winsome smile; and the self-proclaimed housekeeper and cook, who appears to be of Asian descent, but also appears not to be solid matter at all, at times, and whose name is reminiscent of the matriarch of today’s story. Her name is Sarayu.  All three live in a shack in the woods, a location with references to this protagonist, in this story.

Regardless of how I ultimately assess this book at its close, there is one section I’d like to read to you now, because it lays out a pretty straightforward description of what I think today’s discussion is in part about – or at least, it’s part of what I want to leave with you, today. This dialogue is between Mack, the protagonist, and Jesus:

Silence followed as Mack wrestled with what Jesus had said. He gave up after only a minute or two and decided to ask the riskier question.

“You said I don’t really know you. It would be a lot easier if we could always talk like this.”

“Admittedly, Mack, this is special. You were really stuck and we wanted to help you crawl out of your pain. But don’t think that just because I’m not visible, our relationship has to be less real. It will be different, but perhaps even more real.”

“How is that?”

“My purpose from the beginning was to live in you and you in me.”

“Wait, wait. Wait a minute. How can that happen? If you’re still fully human how can you be inside me?”

“Astounding, isn’t it? It’s Papa’s miracle. It is the power of Sarayu, my Spirit, the Spirit of God who restores the union that was lost so long ago. Me? I choose to live moment by moment fully human. I am fully God, but I am human to the core. Like I said, it’s Papa’s miracle.”

Mack was lying in the darkness, listening intently, “Aren’t you talking about a real indwelling, not just some positional, theological thing?”

“Of course,” answered Jesus, his voice strong and sure. “It’s what everything is all about. The human, formed out of the physical material Creation, can once more be fully indwelt by spiritual life, my life. It requires that a very real dynamic and active union exists.”

“That is almost unbelieveable!” Mack exclaimed quietly. “I had no idea. I need to think more about this. But, I might have a lot more questions.”

(The Shack, W. P. Young, Los Angeles: Windblown Media, 2007, pp. 112, middle thru 113, top)

In the moment of God’s covenant making with Abraham and Sarah, a family was born. A family that would produce brothers and sisters who argued with each other and tried to outdo each other, but who were nevertheless beloved of the Holy One. Who was that family? For that matter, who is our family, here? We are here for each other, just as God was there for Abraham and Sarah, as Jesus is for Mack, and as Christ is for us all, today. In this Lenten Season of contemplation, let us remember that we are not alone -- in our misery, or in our joy. Even beyond these walls, even behind closed doors where we hide in disbelief that anyone is with us – even there, we still are not alone.

I close with more evidence of that truth. This note from the pastor of another UCC church in the Twin Cities came to us here, unsolicited. It shows us that even when we don’t know who’s supporting us, we are still held in loving thought and prayer, often by someone who it never occurs to us, might be doing so.

“First Congregational UCC – Because we, Robbinsdale United Church of Christ, are covenant partners in the ministry of the Minnesota Conference, United Church of Christ, each week we pray for one of our partner congregations as they spread light, plant seeds, follow the spirit, sing hymns and spiritual songs, serve Christ, and worship God. We, the members of Robbinsdale United Church of Christ, lift up in prayer your ministry and members.” [It is signed: ] “Blessings to you and your vibrant ministry of justice and love. Peace, T. Michael Rock, [Pastor, Robbinsdale United Church of Christ].”

 

Hallelujah! Let us pray.

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