Genesis 21:14-20 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
14 So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.
15 When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. 16 Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. 17 And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. 18 Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” 19 Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.
20 God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow.
Sermon: “Eyes with which to See the World”
“Hagar lifted up her voice and wept.” So says verse 16 of today’s scripture reading. Hagar had A LOT to weep about. As you heard in the introduction to today’s Scripture reading, Hagar was a maid servant and also the concubine of the Patriarch Abraham. You may know the story of how she was given to Abraham to bear him children, given to Abraham by his wife Sarah, who at the time was thought to be barren. Hagar had no choice in the matter. She was a foreign woman--Egyptian--owned by Abraham’s family. She was in the position that all enslaved peoples are in--she either did what she was told, or she would be punished, in her case, “cast out.” And cast out meant losing everything: food, shelter, clothing, relationships--and any hope for the future. Being cast out meant facing almost inevitable death.
So, in Hagar’s case, she did what she was told--she bore a child for Abraham--but she was cast out anyway. In our Scripture reading for today, we see that she was sent into the wilderness with only 3 things: her son, some bread, and a container of water. And when the water ran out, she left her child in the shade and sat down near him, expecting that, after having lost everything else, she would also lose what mattered most to her: the life of her dear son, Ishmael.
Biblical Scholar “Phyllis Trible speaks eloquently about Hagar’s becoming many things to many people…: ‘Most especially, all sorts of rejected women find their stories in her. She is the faithful maid exploited, the black woman used by the male and abused by the female of the ruling class, the surrogate mother, the resident alien without legal recourse… the divorced mother with child, the [homeless] bag lady carrying bread and water… the self-effacing female whose own identity shrinks in service to others.’” (Phyllis Trible quoted by Terrance E. Fretheim in New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Vol. I, p. 490)
No matter how Hagar is seen--it is clear that she is a woman who is grieving multiple losses--and fearing the worst loss of all--the impending death of her child. She expresses all the grief she is feeling by lifting up her voice and weeping.
Do we ever do that--or feel like doing it--lifting up our voice and weeping in grief? I attended a UCC zoom webinar for pastors a couple of months ago, led by a therapist Rev. Dr. Claire W. Bamberg, who reminded us that the whole world is in a state of grief because of the Covid 19 pandemic. And then she began to name some of the losses that people are going through. It’s a list I’ve been adding to as the Pandemic goes along. I’m sure we each have our own lists that include some, perhaps all of the following:
· Loss of loved ones.
· Loss of livelihood, job, business
· Loss of human interaction in the way we have always known it:
o Not being able to hug each other.
o Not being able to shake hands.
o Not being able to even be in the same room with more than a few people at a time.
o Not being able to physically attend school
· All of which leads to an enormous loss: NOT being able to participate fully in the rituals that mark the milestones in our lives, that give our lives meaning: weddings, baptisms, funerals, graduations, family reunions, anniversary celebrations.
That’s a TON of loss!! And I didn’t even name everything on my list.
The leader of the seminar reminded us that the human reactions to all of this loss are well described by psychologist Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her famous 5 stages of the grief process:
· Denial,
· Anger,
· Depression,
· Bargaining,
· And eventually Acceptance.
So, all that to say, who--going through all this--wouldn’t want to lift up their voice and weep--or yell or complain or fall apart? And the hard part of the grief we are going through now, in this pandemic, is that we don’t yet know when we will have a vaccine, and without that “end” in sight, the grief is ongoing, and we keep cycling through the first 4 stages--and it’s really hard to get to the acceptance phase.
So, what do we do about it? How do we handle all of the emotions that come with grief and loss that seem unending?
Back to our Scripture story. When Hagar lifted up her voice and wept, God heard hear. I know that technically, in verse 17, the Scripture says that God “heard the voice of the boy,” but my understanding of why the Scripture phrases it like this is to remind the readers of the meaning of Hagar’s son’s name: Ishmael which is literally translated, “God hears.” And verse 17 says, “God heard the voice of the boy where he is.” God has not forgotten Hagar or her son. Even in the midst of the wilderness, in the midst of enormous grief and loss upon loss, God is there. God tells her not to be afraid. Interestingly enough, the name Hagar means “one who fears,” “the one who flees.” (Biblestudytools.com; abarim-publications.com) But in the middle of her fear, after she is forced to flee, God is still with her and provides for her needs. Verse 19. “God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.”
Rabbi Harold Kushner, in his book “Who needs God” comments on this passage by saying:
“ God did not make a miracle happen for Hagar as we usually understand that term. He did not create any life-giving resources that were not there before. He opened her eyes so that she saw the well that she had not previously noticed, and all of a sudden the same world which had looked so hopelessly cruel to her a moment before was now seen as a livable and life-sustaining place. The well had been there all along. The world was never really as bleak and barren a place as it had seemed to her. But until God opened her eyes and led her to see the water, she looked at life and saw only futility and suffering.” (p. 29)
The same is true for us. When grief narrows our focus and all we can see in the world are the things that make us lift up our voice and weep, we need to bring those things before God. We need to let ourselves lift up our voice and weep. We need to cry and wail and name the pain we are feeling, we need to lament. And, then, we need to keep praying. Praying that God will open our eyes--not to overlook the pain--but to see that there is so much more than only pain. God is present with us in the midst of it, and God can lift our gaze and bring healing and even joy into our lives despite our circumstances.
Rabbi Kushner puts it this way: “it is more than a matter of whether we look at a glass and see it as half full or half empty. It is whether faith and experience have taught us to look at a glass that is nearly empty, like Hagar’s water bottle, and believe that there are resources in the world capable of refilling it.” (p. 30)
So, as we prepare to celebrate communion together today, let us ask God to open our eyes and hearts to believe that God has provided resources in the world--abundant resources to give us hope even in the midst of grief. And, as we go through our week, let us feel our grief, and lift that pain up to God. AND let us consciously look for the places in our lives where God has provided wells overflowing with love and grace. They are there; we just need eyes of faith to see them. Can we make it our spiritual work this week to name one source of such grace each day?
Let me close with a prayer/poem by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn, entitled “When I ache with hurt.” Let us pray…
Spirit who groans with
sighs too deep for words,
I lean into and rest in those sighs.
I find in your pleas and
Petitions a home for
My ache,
My dismay,
And so much anger.
I hold your hand as you
Help me sift through
Each layer of betrayal,
My feelings of being deceived,
My temptation to turn against--
To blame, to ignore, to lose sight
Of the “you” within others,
However deeply buried.
You’ve told me you cannot heal
What I don’t give space to grieve and feel.
And, so, I trust that no
Feeling is final and forever.
That there is room and
Respect and honor
for tears and incredulity
And deep, deep sadness.
So, holy spirit, would you meld
My sighs and groans into your own,
Bringing me into a love
for you above all else?
Would you make firm the weak knees
And quench the parched voice,
That I might serve your communion,
Overflowing with peace and healing?
Would you stretch my fingertips
To the wounds of the breaking,
Tenderly showing them
How wide your arms are?
And, would you ignite in me
Bravery to live the gospel
with new passion and intensity?
I give you thanks for your embrace
Of all I can pray and all I cannot.
And that this can be enough.
In the love and grace
Of my wounded healer…
Amen. (from Ash and Starlight: Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life p. 94)
Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt
Franklin Federated Church
Franklin, MA
July 12, 2020