Reclaiming our Stories: Women of Genesis

If you know me at all, you know that I don't think the women of the Bible get the credit that they deserve. They barely get any face-time in the three-year lectionary, and are mostly used to prop up the stories for, of, and about men. I don't love it.

But I do love the stories of these women. So as time got slower and my theological brain began to fill with cobwebs, I reached out to some of my trusted and fantastic colleagues and friends, wondering about what it could mean for us to write for, of, and about the incredible women of Genesis.

Over the next twelve weeks we will be looking at parts of these women's stories and lifting up our own reflections and inviting you into the conversation as well. You'll find it posted every Monday morning right here.

Here are the women we will encounter:

Eve by Sarah Locke
Noah's Wife by Vicki Hamilton
Sarai/Sarah by Mandy Achterberg
Hagar by Sarah Locke
Lot's Wife by Alexandria Long
Rebekah by Tobi Fleck
Rachel by Hannah Bardin
Leah by Sarah Locke
Bilhah & Zilpah by Sarah Locke
Dinah by Sarah Locke
Tamar by Vicki Hamilton
Potiphar's Wife by Jennifer Roberts


I invite you into this sacred space over the next twelve weeks to explore a little more of what these women's stories might be speaking into your own story. They are our ancestors, after all. Their blood runs in our veins and we are made of the same breath that created them. Dig deep into their stories and you might find out something about yourself along the way.

Peace to you and be well.



**If you're a church leader and your context is fully affirming and celebrating of the LGBTQIA+ community, please feel free to use these reflections in your own contexts. If your community is not, please feel free to ask permission before using. At the end of the twelve weeks, we will package it all into a pretty little Bible study booklet for your use.**

Finding Christ Outside of the Meal - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 24:13-35 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

The Walk to Emmaus

13 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” 19 He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” 25 Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

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This sermon was preached by me for our April 26, 2020 morning prayer service for a specific context to a specific people. I hope that it can also speak to you amid the COVID-19 public health crisis. You can read my manuscript below or you can listen to the audio at this link. You can also watch the entire morning prayer service at this link. 

Let us pray. 

God who is known and recognized in the breaking of the bread, make yourself known to us now. Reveal yourself to us in this time when you often feel so distant. Amen. 

Like many people during this time of social distancing and isolation, I am finding myself having a bit more time for spiritual practices and things I wouldn’t normally have time for while I was working on campus regularly. In my newly found time, I have been helping lead a small group called “Abide.” We meet weekly and one of the purposes of the small group is to notice where God is present around us during this time and share it with our small group members. Because sometimes it feels like God is really far away when we are going through change, grief, or difficulties and we need to be reminded that God is, in fact present. 

So that’s what we do. We get together over video every week and talk about where God is in our lives. 

In the story we hear this morning, two of Jesus’ followers walk to Emmaus and Jesus walks with them, speaking to them, questioning them, reprimanding them a bit, and ultimately being present with them. But it is not until Jesus breaks bread with them that they recognize him. 

It’s hard for me to not relate to this story intensely. I, too, recognize Jesus most fully in the breaking of the bread, in the Holy Meal of Christ’s body and blood. I was told a few months ago that I preach about baptism and Holy Communion A LOT. It’s because they are my favorite things in the whole world. And I can be reminded of our baptism each week, but I get to see, and touch, and smell, and taste and even hear the breaking of the body and blood of Christ Jesus every week. It is so tactile and moves me so much. I sometimes joke that I became a priest just so I could be the first in line at this holy table. 

I know that is has been incredibly difficult not being present here at the church building to gather with one another in worship. I feel it too. But even more than that, we have been away from this table for so long. We have not been nourished by the body and blood for such a long time. We may have forgotten how it tastes, feels, sounds, smells, and looks. We may not even fully realize how much our hearts long for it right now. I feel it too, my beloveds. 

And I also recognize that I had taken it for granted. It was the way I MOST recognized Christ, which made it much more difficult for me to recognize Christ anywhere else. How can anything be as beautiful and perfect a reminder of our Jesus’ presence with us? 

And now that we cannot gather for the meal, this feast, now that we are not able to come to this table, are we able to recognize Jesus? 

Oh dear friends, it is difficult. When we have our normalcy and our routine is ripped out from under us, it is difficult to find God in the mess. But God does hear our cries and supplications. And even if we don’t recognize him, Jesus is with us along this road that is so full of disappointment and grief. 

Jesus is walking alongside us, bidding us keep walking, asking us to continue to hope. Just as Jesus was present on the road to Emmaus, he is present here with us now. Not even death could keep him from us. 

But I am reminded that this journey to Emmaus happens on the day of Jesus’ resurrection. On the same day that the women run from the tomb proclaiming the risen Christ, there are those who doubt and wait for more to be revealed. There are these two on the path stretched out before them, grieving the death of their friend and teacher, unable to comprehend the good news of the resurrection, unable to recognize their savior walking beside them. 

All this is to say that sometimes resurrection takes a while. Sometimes resurrection takes a few days, perhaps even several weeks. “Sometimes new life comes in fits and starts,” Debie Thomas tells us, “sometimes seeing and recognizing the risen Christ is hard.”

God is with us, even when we don’t recognize it. God is actually even more present with us when we don’t recognize God’s presence. 

Yes, of course, God is in the breaking of the bread, but God is in so much more than just that. 

That small group that I talked about before is called “Abide” for a reason. We come together each week as a small community to abide with one another, to abide in God’s presence, and remind one another that God abides with us. God is present with us when we gather in community and we need each other to be reminded on that because we so often forget. 

We forget that God is in morning prayer each Sunday, God is in our gathering together even if it is physically apart from one another. God is in the Zoom Bible studies and the food pantry ministry. God is in the text you send to your lonely neighbor and God is there on the evening walk with your family. God is there in the protective masks and the quiet, patient conversations you have with your children. 

As much as we long to be in this building together again, and I know we long for it, because even though I stand here, I long for your faces and your embrace and your presence. As much as we long to be here in this place we are reminded over and over again in this time that God is not confined here.

God is present in the meal, oh but God cannot be limited to the meal. And I thank God for that difficult but comforting reminder. 

I leave you with these wise words from Debie Thomas: “So keep walking.  Keep telling the story.  Keep honoring the stranger. Keep attending to your burning heart. Christ is risen. He is no less risen on the road to Emmaus than he is anywhere else.  So look for him.  Listen for him.  And when he lingers at your door, honoring your freedom, but yearning to feed you, say what he longs to hear:  Stay with me.”  And invite him in. Amen. 

28 Days with the Women of Genesis

Some people need to read scripture every day, while others feel the need to dive deep just once a week. In an effort to help both groups learn more about the women of the Bible, I have come up with a 28-day reading plan that focuses specifically on the women of Genesis. I hope that we can look more deeply at their stories and notice when their voices are lifted up in scripture and when they are silenced. 

We will also be releasing a weekly Bible study called "Reclaiming Our Stories: Women of Genesis" that focuses on all of these women every Monday, starting May 4. So you'll want to be on the lookout for that. We have six incredible folks contributing to that Bible study, so I am especially delighted to see it come to fruition. 

Some questions to consider when you read these stories: 

• How is this woman introduced? 
• What do you notice about this woman's story as you read it? If you have read this story before, are you noticing anything new? 
• How is this woman's voice amplified or silenced in this story? 
• What does this woman tell us about God's love? 

Eve

Day 1 - Genesis 1

Day 2 - Genesis 2 

Day 3 - Genesis 3

Noah’s Wife 

Day 4 - Genesis 6:5-22; 

Day 5 - Genesis 7

Day 6 - Genesis 8 

Day 7 - Genesis 9:1-17

Sarai/Sarah and Hagar 

Day 8 - Genesis 12

Day 9 - Genesis 13

Day 10 - Genesis 14

Day 11 - Genesis 15

Day 12 - Genesis 16 

Day 13 - Genesis 17 

Day 14 - Genesis 18:1-15  

Day 15 - Genesis 21:1-21

Lot’s Wife

Day 16 - Genesis 19

Rebekah

Day 17 - Genesis 24

Day 18 - Genesis 25:19-34

Day 19 - Genesis 26 

Day 20 - Genesis 27 

Rachel & Leah // Bilhah & Zilpah 

Day 21 - Genesis 29

Day 22 - Genesis 30 

Day 23 - Genesis 31 

Day 24 - Genesis 32 

Day 25 - Genesis 33 

Dinah 

Day 26 - Genesis 34

Tamar 

Day 27 - Genesis 38

Potiphar’s Wife 

Day 28 - Genesis 39

Maundy Thursday Reflection 2020 - Redeemer Episcopal Church

You can hear my full Maundy Thursday reflection (recorded from our child's play room) in the video below. Or you can read the manuscript below. 

Foot washing is something that is seen as fairly odd in Western society. We don’t usually make a habit of getting down on the ground and washing the feet of our neighbors and our friends when they come to visit us. Even though it would have been quite common for servants or slaves to do it in Jesus’ time. It might even make us uncomfortable when this service arrives every year during Holy Week.

However, throughout this year— I have heard so many of you mourning the loss of this service. It is so personal, so incarnational, so physical. How can we possibly do it without being in community with one another? 

I think it is all the more reason we must do it. 

The act of foot washing is a radical act of hope. The disciples know that their feet are going to get dirty again as soon as we go back out on the dirt path, but they wash them anyway. They know that has soon as their feet hit the dirt ground of the house, their feet will be covered in dust and maybe even mud once again. It was constant— like how it’s nearly impossible to keep sand out of your car when you go to the beach. It doesn’t matter how careful they are, they know that they will need their feet washed again, and soon. But they do it anyway. They do it because they know that they are caring for each other in this way. Jesus washes the disciples feet to share hope, joy, and love with his disciples, despite what will happen in a matter of hours. 

In any other normal circumstance, we come to the church building every week, sometimes several times a week, to hear the story that we already know— a story of radical hope in the face of unquestionable and seemingly unconquerable fear and death. 

Now, because we can’t gather together, we must take time in our lives outside of the church building, perhaps teaching us to be more faithful disciples and bringing God’s word out into our daily lives every day. 

And we know that we will be overcome with the reality of sin and evil in this world as soon as we leave the sanctuary of our homes, maybe even within the walls of our homes, but we come back to this story anyway, we come back to this ritual together anyway— to be washed in the waters of baptism. We come back because Jesus gave us a new way to be nourished and filled with hope by Jesus’ very body and blood in the Eucharist. And we long for it. Oh how we long for it these days. 

But we come and hear this story, already knowing the ending, already knowing the triumph. We do it to nourish ourselves and nourish one another. We gather together, even though we are far apart, to give thanks to God for this wonderful gift of Christ Jesus who we long to taste once again. And we will, dear family, we will. But in the meantime, we will wash each other’s feet and wash our own feet, remembering our baptism and God’s promise that transcends time and space. Amen. 

The Anticipatory Grief of Jesus - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 21:1-11 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.”  This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
    humble, and mounted on a donkey,
        and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

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This sermon was preach by me, Pastor Sarah Locke in a specific context for a specific people, but I think it can speak in different times to different folks as well. You can read the sermon below, or listen to it at this link.

You can also watch the worship video below:

Let us pray. 

God of mercy and consolation, you have felt our every grief and desperation in your own son Jesus Christ. Let us take comfort in his presence and in your saving power on this day and always. Amen. 

This is an odd time to be a campus chaplain. Along with almost every other profession and vocation, we are having to adapt to a new normal and I’m figuring out what ministry looks like when I can’t be present with any of my students. So every week we gather together for Food for Thought… over video conferencing. 

This past week we were checking in with one another and one of our students mentioned having a hard time planning anything. She said, “it feels like the worst is still yet to come and it’s hard to believe there is anything that will be worth planning after this. I think I have forgotten how to hope.” 

We’ve had a lot of plans cancelled and a lot of our normal life upended in the past several weeks and I’ve felt similar to this student in the past week. How do we continue to live our lives and plan for the future when things feel so immediate and dangerous and futile? I started to do some reading about this feeling of hopelessness. It turns out that a LOT of people are feeling this way. And this odd discomfort about the future is actually a form of grief. 

David Kessler, an expert on grief, describes what we are feeling as two different kinds of grief. We are feeling regular grief— the grief of things lost, people dying, normal live changing, and plans being cancelled. But we are also feeling another kind of grief called anticipatory grief.

When I hear this story about Jesus on Palm Sunday, that is what comes to mind— grief. We know this story well. We hear a version of it every year on Palm Sunday. So it might not make complete sense that I find grief in this story. After all, it seems like one of the few times Jesus is celebrated for who he is— the Lord and Savior of God’s people. 

But Jesus has been on this journey from the very beginning. He knows that it will only end one way. So I can only imagine that he has some really complicated feelings as he gave these instructions to his disciples and rode into the city among the crowd shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

On the one hand, I am sure that he feels a certain amount of pride and happiness in being among his people, in being welcomed into the city by crowds who are calling out to him. 

But what these people are shouting is “Hosanna” which means, “Help us now!” They were shouting to God for assistance in their plight, their oppression under the Roman Empire. They were asking for a political revolution, not a spiritual one. Jesus knew this and knew that that is not what he would offer them. 

So I can only imagine that Jesus also felt an immense amount of grief. Because with every step that colt took into the city, Jesus got closer and closer to what would seem like unbearable disappointment and abandonment to his friends, family, and followers. With every step, Jesus got further and further away from people’s expectations of the Messiah. As he made his way into the city, he got closer and closer to losing his dignity and insecurity. He got closer to the unknown and maybe even feelings of anger and fear and anxiety. And as he made his way into that city, he got closer and closer to death.

What grief Jesus must be feeling in the midst of this grand parade, not only for himself but for everyone around him. 

The grief expert I mentioned earlier, David Kessler, says that: 

“Anticipatory grief is that feeling we get about what the future holds when we’re uncertain. Usually it centers on death. We feel it when someone gets a dire diagnosis or when we have the normal thought that we’ll lose a parent someday. 

“Anticipatory grief is also more broadly imagined futures. There is a storm coming. There’s something bad out there. With a virus, this kind of grief is so confusing for people. Our primitive mind knows something bad is happening, but you can’t see it. This breaks our sense of safety. We’re feeling that loss of safety. I don’t think we’ve collectively lost our sense of general safety like this. Individually or as smaller groups, people have felt this. But all together, this is new. We are grieving on a micro and a macro level.”

In the same way that Jesus is walking into a future that is largely unknown to the entire world and one that will change everything forever, we are doing the same thing. 

I’ve heard so many people lamenting this week, saying that this is the first year that they can remember when they won’t be in the church for Holy Week. And we don’t know what to do. We are being faced with a big question mark in our lives right now. We don’t know what the next week will entail and there is a lot of stress and grief being held in our bodies right now. We, too, are walking through the city gates into the unknown of of a dangerous Jerusalem. 

Perhaps it is an odd thing to admit, but it does bring me a bit of comfort to imagine that Jesus experienced similar anxiety, fear, and grief as he made his way into the city. And yet he continued. He continued on his journey toward the cross because of his love for the people shouting to him, waving palm branches, and laying their cloaks on the ground for him. He continued because of his love for the people who had followed him for many years and provided for him, loved him, and did ministry with him. He continued knowing that love is often uncomfortable, unbearable, and undignified in the face of real crisis. He continued into Jerusalem and eventually to his death on a cross because he knew that that is the cost of love. He knew that is was the only way to save us all. 

So as we remember that day when he went into the city amid shouts of “Hosanna!” We too are shouting, or perhaps sighing in grief, the same sentiment: “Save us now, God.” And we continue into the unknown in grief, anxiety, and fear for the love of our neighbors, trusting in the knowledge that God has saved us in Christ Jesus, now and forever. Amen.