Sermon Sun 16 Oct Wk7: 'Never too late'...WMRBW

1st READING: Genesis 18:1-15; 22:1-14  
2nd READING: Micah 6:6-8

SERMON
Let’s pray:
may the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

We know the beginnings of this story:
Abram and his family live settled, comfortable lives in the great city-state of Ur.
At some point, the patriarch of the family, Terah, decides to move his clan –
to travel to Canaan.
They get as far as Haran, and, either tired of travelling, or liking what he sees,
Terah settles his family there. They prosper at this place that seems to be
a trading and travelling crossroads.

Year follows year, and, as is the way of things,
Terah dies – the older generation has now passed away,
and we meet Abram, at a crossroads in his own life.
Settled, and comfortable, he’s called by God to leave Haran and travel into the unknown –
to move out from his place of comfort and trust in God’s promise of
a new future,
a new and great destiny,
a new beginning – starting with the promise of a child.
Obediently, he complies, taking wife, nephew, slaves
and his great riches along for the journey.
As he travels, his wealth increases.
Years pass.
Many years.
He and wife Sarai are growing old, and wondering just when the promise of
a child might be fulfilled.

Still more years pass.
He and his company have many adventures, some good, some less so.
Sometimes his actions are a little less than heroic.
Nevertheless, flawed human that he is, in faith, he continues to follow God.
And this morning, in our first reading, we find Abram,
now called ‘Abraham’, encamped at a place called Mamre by ‘great’ trees.
It    is   hot.
Unbelievably hot.
He sits by the entrance of his tent, not doing very much.
As he sits, he’s suddenly aware of three strangers nearby – they just seem to be there.
Perhaps he’s nodded off and not noticed their approach, but now, he’s very alert.
In the energy-sapping heat of the day, Abraham’s all action:
he rushes over to the three,
meets them, and in the gesture of a servant, in humility, he bows deeply before them.

Now, hospitality was a sacred act in those days,
and Abraham’s very much following the custom:
‘Don’t pass by, come wash your dusty, weary feet;
come and rest awhile, 
come eat and be refreshed.’
And so, the strangers agree.
Given Abraham is a wealthy man, with many servants,
it’s interesting just how hands-on he is in ensuring that his guests are comfortable...
and it’s no quick cup of tea and a garibaldi:
preparations are set in place and the meal will take time – bread needs baked,
and, when the most tender calf has been chosen, it needs time for cooking.
Once the meal is ready, again, Abraham accords them honour:
they sit and eat, he stands, as a servant would.
Does he know that there’s something more to these strangers than might appear?
Perhaps.
Or, perhaps he’s just an excellent host.
And, now, as they eat, they talk, and it’s a curious conversation indeed:
they seem to know quite a lot about Abraham and Sarah.
In the course of the conversation, with Sarah quietly eavesdropping and hidden from view,
one of the strangers reveals that the longed-for child will be born over the coming year.
Now remember, she’s been waiting awffy long, has our Sarah.
She’s feeling her advanced years.
She’s possibly just quietly written off this particular promise...
You can forgive her for basically bursting out laughing and saying ‘aye, right.’
But the stranger then says, rather pointedly, to Abraham,
‘Why did she laugh? Is anything too hard for the Lord?’
And now she’s afraid – she’s been caught out.
She’s not sure who these strangers are, but...they’re not your everyday visitors.
And, in the midst of this visit, Abraham and Sarah realise that somehow, in these strangers,
God is in their midst...

A year passes.
The longed-for child arrives and is named ‘Isaac’ – meaning ‘he laughs.’
If the previous laughter had been disbelief, here is joy at last.
The child grows and flourishes and is very much loved –
more precious than all their riches.
And here, the story should end, happily...
but it doesn’t.
We move to a hard and horrifying chapter in the story.
Once again, God speaks to Abraham – but no words of promise or destiny here;
in fact, almost the opposite.
‘Go, take your son, whom you love, sacrifice him as a burnt offering.’
It’s like a great big divine punch in the gut.
You can almost see the light going from Abraham’s eyes,
as his son, and the promise of numerous descendants,
appear to be snatched away from him.
And Abraham, obedient even in this, sets out the next morning
to do this most terrible of all biddings.
It is not a short journey.
Hour after unremitting hour,
day after day, after day, they travel on.
How heavy the feet of Abraham drag along the stony path, how heavy his heart?
Although obedient, is there somewhere deep inside of Abraham that’s
crying out to God and asking:
‘Why this, of all things?’
Still he travels on, and finally arrives, walking up the mountain-side
with the source of so much happiness, his beloved child.
‘Where’s the lamb for the sacrifice?’ says Isaac.
‘God will provide it’, says Abraham, not wanting to frighten the boy.
As the tension builds, an altar is built...
final preparations are made,
the knife appears...
And then, a messenger from God intervenes:
‘no,     don’t     do it!’
In the horror of it all, Abraham looks up, sees a ram, takes it, and sacrifices it.
The Lord has provided....

What the heck do we do with this story?
What on earth is God doing?
Why on earth doesn’t Abraham stop for even a moment and go:
‘What? Are you kidding me, God?’
What kind of emotional and psychological scars does Isaac bear after this?
How could he ever trust his father again, I wonder?

The biblical scholar, Phyllis Tribble calls this kind of bible passage a ‘text of terror.’ 
And she’s right.
This particular text makes our blood run cold, makes us ask:
‘Why, God? Why?’
There are no fluffy, rainbow unicorns here,
only agony and awfulness and so many hard questions.
Where can we find ‘good news’ in this Abrahamic episode?
How do we reconcile this seemingly violent God
with our understanding of the God who is love?

There are no easy answers here, but I'll do my best to try and unpack this.
Abraham lives in a violent world – perhaps this is why hospitality is such a sacred act:
a pact that, in protecting and caring for the other,
at some point, you, too will be protected and cared for.
It's a way of stemming the violence, even if only for a short while.
Abraham is surrounded by a variety of different cultures,
with different customs, and different gods.
What links these cultures is that the various gods seem to require blood,
and the practice of child sacrifice is widespread.
So, when God speaks to Abraham,
while it’s an horrific request, perhaps he’s not so surprised:
this is what gods require,
this is what they ask.
And, falling into the prevailing cultural mindset,
he heads off to do that which seems to be required.
It’s the only explanation that I can come up with, when it comes to his compliance,
because, it’s curious to me that, in other circumstances,
he’s quite happy to challenge God about things –
to even barter with God to spare the lives of people.
But here, when God asks him to sacrifice his child, he’s utterly schtum;
meekly and uncomplainingly, he gets on with it.

This passage is often referred to as ‘the testing of Abraham’.
And down through the centuries, Abraham is lauded for his heroic and sacrificial faith,
is seen to have passed the test with flying colours...
but, I wonder: did he?
In contrast with those other gods, the God who calls Abraham is
not some deity made of wood or stone - this god is quite different.
Perhaps the test is not so much about child sacrifice and of a bloodthirsty god...
perhaps this test is the opposite:
God doing something completely counter-cultural and, in a hard lesson,
teaching Abraham that what’s required is to be counter-cultural.
Perhaps the test is one about breaking the cycle of violence –
of stopping the practice of child sacrifice?
But, perhaps there’s more to it, as well:
perhaps this test is one to show Abraham how to live sacrificially:
in a world of injustice and corruption,
in a world of callous indifference and casual cruelty,
in a world of ‘me first’ and self-aggrandisement...
to live in such a way that the prevailing culture is challenged,
or, in the words of the prophet Micah – as you live your life, you purposefully choose
‘to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.’
Perhaps this is another lesson about choices and trusting God –
just as long before there was that first lesson about choice
and trusting God, way back in the Garden.

Just as Abraham lived in a world of violence, so, it seems
as we listen to the news, do we.
A world in which
wars, atrocities, unspeakable violence still happen;
a world in which words are used as battering rams in political discourse;
and the scapegoating of those deemed to be ‘not like us’ continues;
a world in which, in a different way, child sacrifice still happens –
for children are the flotsam and jetsam found lying dead on Greek beaches,
or found wounded in the streets of Aleppo...

Choices are made every day:
to hate, to harm, to kill ...
to tear down, to destroy human beings who are created in the image of God.
We could choose to make such choices:
to care only for ourselves,
to seek power and wealth at the expense of others,
to bring folk down,
to refuse to question power’s demands.
Or, we can hold on to the wild, counter-cultural thought that,
even in the midst of horror, there is always hope:
and that, as we choose to love, to create,
to welcome the stranger and to share our food,
as we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God,
so God will provide a way out of the prevailing culture of horror;
and replace songs of mourning with life-affirming sounds of laughter.

Perhaps this part of Abraham’s story teaches us
that it’s never too late to trust in God, and to choose a different way –
the way of life in all its fullness,
and, in the face of evil, to continue, in faith, to affirm God’s goodness...
To his name, be all glory, honour and praise. Amen.