Reclaiming our Stories: Rebekah

By Tobi Fleck 

Read more of Rebekah's story: Genesis 24; 25:21-34; 26:1-17; 27 

Genesis 24:57-61

They [Laban and Bethuel] said, “We will call the girl, and ask her.” And they called Rebekah, and said to her, “Will you go with this man?” She said, “I will.” So they sent away their sister Rebekah and her nurse along with Abraham’s servant and his men. And they blessed Rebekah and said to her, “May you, our sister, become thousands of myriads; may your offspring gain possession of their foes.” Then Rebekah and her maids rose up, mounted the camels. And followed the man; thus the servant [of Abraham] took Rebekah and went his way.

At the beginning of my internship, I had the wonderful experience of working with one of the local Jewish Rabbis on an interfaith project. After the project was finished, she told me that I was free to stay in touch, as she understood how difficult transitions to new cities could be. This prompted a continuing resolution to myself that whenever possible, I would attend Shabbat on Friday night. While there were many parts of Shabbat I loved, one practice stood out to me. During the Avot, not only are the male ancestors (Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob) named, but so were the women! Every Friday, we remembered Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah. Naming them every Friday rekindled my curiosity as to the stories of these pillars of faith. 

So, here’s an overview of the beginning of Rebekah’s story. Abraham, being very old and having watched his wife Sarah die, sends out his trusted servant, whose name we do not know, with specific instructions to travel back to Abraham’s homeland in search for a wife for Abraham’s son, Isaac. It cannot be someone of Canaanite descent, but must be someone from Abraham’s own tribe. Once the Servant reaches Abraham’s homeland, he prays to God for success in his task and asks for signs. And, sure enough, almost as soon as he was done praying, a woman, our Rebekah, walks up and fulfills all of the signs he asked of God. Better yet, she was indeed of Abraham’s kin!

The Servant goes with Rebekah to her family home and shares his story with Rebekah’s family. The whole story, from Abraham commissioning him to go forth, to his conversations with God, and Rebekah’s role in fulfilling it all. 

And then, we get to the part that still amazes me. Rebekah is asked for her consent. We hear her voice said “I will.” Now, in today’s day, that might seem like a no-brainer. Of course it would be her decision if she’d go and marry someone she’d never met, who lives in a different country. But in scripture, rarely do we hear of women making these choices, let alone literally hear their voices say the words. Rebekah’s voice here is important, and important to acknowledge. 

There are tons of discussion questions that could take place around the story of Rebekah. Questions surrounding Abraham’s choice to find a kinswoman for his son’s wife. Questions around the rivalry between Israel and Canaan. And how that might relate to modern day rivalries. Or maybe questions about times you have asked God for help in a task- times you’ve asked for signs and have they been given to you. 

Often, we only hear one side of a story, particularly the dominant, privileged side, but today I want you to ask yourself: Whose voices do I hear often? What stories do they tell? Whose voices don’t I hear? What stories might they tell? And how has this played into the entrenched racism rampant in our own country? 

White folx: There are many resources out there to help you begin to hear other voices, other lived experiences. I would encourage you to take some time this week to pick up a book, or download an audio book, or visit a website, and listen to voices you’ve not heard before. 

Reclaiming our Stories: Hagar

By Sarah Locke

Read more of Hagar's story: Genesis 16; 21:1-21

The story of Hagar that we read in Genesis consists of three main acts. It is a difficult story to read for some, as it involves multiple layers of abuse.  

Act I - Sarai gives her slave-girl Hagar to Abram in order for Sarai to “obtain children by her” (Genesis 16:2) and Hagar becomes pregnant. Sarai becomes jealous, is cruel to Hagar, and Hagar runs away (Genesis 16:6). 

Act II - An angel of the Lord appears to Hagar and speaks directly with her, making an annunciation and giving a name to her child. God tells Hagar to return to Abram and Sarai. Hagar names the Lord, returns to Abram, and gives birth to Ishmael (Genesis 16:7-16). 

Act III - Sarah gives birth to Isaac and, after some time, sends Hagar and Ishmael away. God saves Hagar and Ishmael in the wilderness. God is with the boy as he grows up and Hagar finds him a wife in Egypt (Genesis 21:1-21). 

The first thing that I recognize about Hagar’s story is that I should not be the one reflecting on it and giving my own perspective. I am, for all intents and purposes, Sarai in this story. I have a comfortable home, I have privilege and status inherent in my ethnicity (whiteness for me, Hebrew for Sarai), I hold promises from God that I do not always understand or believe. Who am I to shed light on Hagar’s story? When people who look like me have spent the majority of history using, oppressing, and discarding women in positions like Hagar’s? 

Perhaps all I can do is confront the harsh reality of this story and the ways in which it has been distorted throughout history. Perhaps I can allow space for Hagar to speak into her own story. 

This story is about two women pitted against one another, under the forces and pressures of a patriarchal society. But unlike we hear in this text, Hagar “foreigner” is not just some random slave woman. Many rabbinical commentators claim that Hagar is actually pharaoh's daughter, given to Sarai when she was part of the pharaoh's harem (Genesis 12:15). Some rabbis even say that Hagar’s true name is Keturah, and that when Sarah died Abraham sought her out, married her, and had six more children with her. 

It stands to reason that many rabbinical commentators regard Hagar with much more dignity than Paul, who uses Hagar as an example of being in bondage to the law, while Sarah is freed by grace (Galatians 4). Later Christians like Augustine, Aquinas, and Wycliffe continue to abuse an already abused woman, claiming that she is "unredeemed." Perhaps Christianity’s hatred toward Hagar has more to do with her part as the matriarch of the Islamic faith (the prophet Muhammed would come through Ishmael). 

Whatever the reason, Hagar has received very little sympathy and almost no voice in the Christian tradition. 

In fact, the only time that Hagar speaks in the entire Genesis narrative is when she is approached by a messenger of the Lord in the wilderness, stating that she is running away from her mistress and when she names God (Genesis 16:8, 13). Then God sends her back to her abusers. Read that again. God sends her back to her abusers. I imagine this is why Phyllis Trible includes this story in her book Texts of Terror-- not even God is on the side of the oppressed in this story.

This encounter with the divine is remarkable. Hagar is the first woman to receive an annunciation from God and “the only person in the Bible who named God... [and] the one doing the naming has a kind of power over the one who is named” (Rev. Dr. Lynn Japinga, Preaching the Women of the Old Testament). She is also the only woman to receive a divine promise of descendants. 

How is it that a woman with this much power in the wilderness, even power over God, is held captive and silenced in the bondage of Sarai and Abram? Perhaps this woman is more than a slave, perhaps she is the daughter of the Pharaoh, perhaps she is one who is seen by God and redeemed by the birth of her son. Perhaps we owe her the dignity of telling her story truthfully and fully every time we encounter it. 

Questions for reflection: 

Have you ever lost your voice or the ability to tell your own story? Has it ever been taken from you? 

What can we do to advocate for and amplify the voices of minorities and the historically oppressed? How can we tell stories more truthfully and fully?

Reclaiming our Stories: Sarai/Sarah

By Mandy Achterberg 

Read more of Sarah's story: Genesis 12; 16; 17:5, 15; 18:10-15; 20; 21:1-21; 23:1-21 

Sarai is introduced through her lineage and connection as a descendant of Shem through her marriage to Abram. The first thing we learn about her is that she is Abram’s wife and the second is that she is barren. Nothing is noted about where she came from or who she is, but unlike many other women in the Old Testament, she has a name. Through nearly ten chapters the story of Sarai, who becomes Sarah, unravels before us. 

At first, I was reluctant to take on the story of Sarah. When other theologians speak of her, one of two things happen. The first is that she is lifted up and revered as being a mother of the faith, one who heard God speak, and demonstrated faith as a partner to Abraham. The second is that she is fraught with scandal, who laughed at and lied to God, and that she became complicit in the abuse of another woman. Rarely are both discussed together. As I reflect on Sarah I want to hold all of her, even the parts we don’t want to look at, even when they are in tension with who we want Sarah to be for us. 

The first thing I noticed is that Sarah herself is not unfamiliar with the harm and violence that patriarchy causes women. She would have been owned by her father, who likely received payment for her hand in marriage. She is barren and seen as useless. This is perhaps why Abram seems to have no qualms “giving” her in marriage to Pharaoh to protect his own life. Of course, when Pharaoh learns of this trickery, he sends them both away. The slimy thing here is that Abram gets to keep his spoils of offering his wife to another man. 

After this we get the story of God making a covenant with Abram, and even though he is childless – which Abram makes quite a gripe about – God promises Abram that he will have as many descendants as there are stars in the sky. As he continues to be childless, I imagine that Sarai heard these complaints of his nearest heir being Elizer of Damascus. I imagine she felt the pressure to fulfill a role as a wife. I imagine she felt the pressure to help make God’s promise come to be. There is no way she can see herself as bearing a child, so she does what she thinks she needs to do to save the dreams of her husband and offers her Egyptian slave, Hagar. Ultimately doing so much harm, and usurping God’s plan in the process!

But all of this does not change God’s plan for Sarah to be included in the birthing of a great people. Sure, it complicates things, and the situation is complex! She is old and barren and has already worked it out so that Abraham will have an heir in Ishmael. Yet, God’s promises remained true and Sarah gave birth to Isaac. Sarah remains a faithful participant in God’s story with humanity.

I am reminded of many things in my reflection. First is that hurt people, hurt people. When we are hurt and hurting, we tend to be reactive and are unable to see how our actions may harm others. The second is, we are immensely capable of being both sinner and saint. Sarah’s complicity in the harm of Hagar does not negate her from the promise of God, but it also dramatically changed their relationship. I wonder if Sarah’s harsh treatment of Hagar tells us more about Sarah’s reaction to her own brokenness, putting the hoped for thing before the faithful thing. 

But I am left with a renewed compassion for Sarah, and a reminder to acknowledge the ways we have been harmed by other humans and to remember that God is a God who does not ask us to sacrifice relationships or life to fulfill the things that God promises. 

How have hurt and trauma impacted your life negatively? How has hurt and trauma revealed an inner resilience, or led you to make an impact in the world? Where do you find God’s promises revealed? What reminds you of God’s promises?

Do Not Be Afraid - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 12:32-40 

³²“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. ³³Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. ³⁴For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. ³⁵“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; ³⁶be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. ³⁷Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.³⁸If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. ³⁹“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. ⁴⁰You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

___________

This sermon was originally preached at Redeemer Episcopal Church on August 11, 2019 by The Rev. Sarah Locke. You can listen to the sermon audio (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

Grace and peace from God in Christ, without whom we cannot exist. Amen. 

“Do not be afraid” seems like an absolutely ridiculous thing for God to say to us, and to these people in these stories. 

Think of the story of Abram: God had promised that he would be a great nation and up until then, he had only had a son born to his wife’s slave— hardly the right kind of heir! So he questions God, and I think most of us would say rightly so— and God says “Do not be afraid.” But can we blame Abram for being afraid? Things aren’t going as planned or promised and he is already an old man. 

In the gospel text, Jesus is in the core of his teaching. He has already healed many people, he has calmed the storms, and he has predicted his death multiple times to his disciples. Why wouldn’t they be in fear and trembling about all the things their rabbi has done and says that he will do? Just before this, Jesus told someone in the crowd that possessions are only going to rot and crumble beneath them. The one thing that assured the life and longevity of people in the ancient world— wealth, acquiring more stuff— Jesus says is worthless. It makes sense that people are a little uneasy. 

So how galling is it that Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.”

This is the same message that God brings to us today. 

The imagery that Jesus uses as he speaks to the disciples strikes me. Jesus gives us a story of a slave, waiting in the middle of the night, for the master to return. Then he says that “if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. ⁴⁰You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

Jesus us tells his followers about two times when we much stay awake, stay alert. And they both happen to be at night. It is in the middle of the night that the master may return from the wedding banquet. We are to stay up, far into the darkness of evening to await his return. Far into the unknown hours of mystery and vulnerability. So too, Jesus speaks of a thief who comes during some mysterious, unknown hour to break into the house.

This is where we find ourselves this morning. In darkness, in mystery, in fear, awaiting those things that we know will come, but without any indication of when or for how long we must wait.  

127 of God’s children have died or were injured in mass shootings in the United States just in the last two weeks. 

680 of God’s children were arrested in ICE raids this week and hundreds of parents were separated from their children.

God’s creation of land and water are being exploited at unprecedented rates, wreaking havoc on our whole world. 

Friday’s triple shooting marked Jacksonville’s 100th homicide this year.

Do not be afraid, Jesus says. 

But it seems we are sitting in the deepest darkness many of us can imagine. 

Think about what it means to be in the dark. As children, many of us were probably afraid of the dark. Maybe we still are. It’s often terrifying and it makes us sit up a little straighter, strain our eyes a bit to be sure we know where we are going, keeps us focused and diligent. But is also gives us an opportunity. 

Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us that “we are never more in danger of stumbling than when we think we know where we are going.” Only when there are no more maps, no more compasses, no more lights to direct the way, are we fully vulnerable to God. 

So here we are, waiting in the darkness, beginning to understand that we are fully reliant on God. In the collect this morning we prayed that we cannot exist without God. How often do we truly believe that? Only when we know we cannot rely on anything else in this world. Only when we are in total darkness, waiting for God to return.

So what do we do in this space? What do we do to quell our fear and feel more secure?

The world would tell us that we have to have more defenses, buy more guns, increase our national security budget, have some sort registry of the mentally ill. The world would tell us that we must frantically flip on all the lights and respond in fear, gathering up all the resources we can so that we can defend ourselves against intruders and thieves. The world tells us that these things will keep us safe. 

But God tells us that true security doesn’t come from those things. In fact, Jesus tells us to sell all of our possession in preparation for his return, we are to give to the poor and be cautious of what lies within our hearts. Our psalm this morning says this: There is no king that can be saved by a mighty army; a strong man is not delivered by his great strength. The horse is a vain hope for deliverance; for all its strength it cannot save. God is our only help and shield.

The only thing that can hold is in this in-between time— this time of darkness, mystery, and fear, when the reign of God is not but not yet come, is God. Only God. 

So what are we to do? We look to our ancestors and all those saints who have gone before us, we look to those who have gone through the darkest of times and we learn from our history. We remember those who have died fighting against the same evils. We read their stories again and again, we remember their names on our lips and in our prayers. We dine with them at this holy table. We are assured in the promise that we are washed in the same waters of baptism with them. And like Abraham and Sarah, and our parents before us, we defiantly, rebelliously have more faith in God than we do in this world. 

Because we know where we are in this story, as resurrection people— we know the end of this story. We know how it ends. God’s story does not end with the darkness of the sun being blotted out as Christ dies on the cross, it does not end with the darkness of the tomb. 

The story continues as the sun rises to reveal an open and empty tomb. 

God’s promise of life everlasting is the only thing that allows us to sit through the night, waiting for the thief, wondering what comes next. It is only God’s promise that allows us to have faith that something better awaits. 

And that is exactly why we come together in this community to sit and wait and be vulnerable before God as we wait for what is to come, trusting in God’s radical and revolutionary promise that we need not worry. 

Amen.