ReMember: Abraham Forgets

Before we move into today’s reading, I’d like to transition us from last week’s story to today’s text in Genesis 12. While the move from chapter 8 in Genesis to chapter 12, today, doesn't seem like a big jump, there’s a lot that goes on in the chapters in-between.

After the story of the flood and of God’s covenant promise to Noah and his descendants, humankind didn’t really improve. In fact, in the verses immediately after God’s promise of the rainbow as an aid to God’s remembering, we have the story of Noah getting drunk. And naked. Probably not the image of the patriarch we want to keep, right?

Things don’t get better from there. There is a human inclination - a human desire - for power and control, especially to serve oneself. In the chapter that precedes today’s text, we read the story of the Tower of Babel. And of the attempt by humans to seek more and more power - to be like God. So, God mixes up their language so they can no longer easily communicate with one another. Then, God disperses them over all the earth so they can no longer together seek greater and greater power. It’s like the ultimate anti-trust action by God to ensure that humankind doesn’t become too big for its britches. 

The story continues down the generations from Shem, Noah’s son, to Terah, father of Abram, who we know better as Abraham. At the end of chapter 11, we learn two things. First, that Terah lives in Ur. (Refer to the map.) 

Ur is in the same location as Babel (or Babylon). Terah decides to move from Ur to Canaan. This means traveling an ancient trade route along what is called the Fertile Crescent (Remember your western civilization history?) to get there. But, Terah never reaches Canaan. Instead he, his family, and his household settle at the top of the Fertile Crescent in Haran. Then, the second thing we learn is that Sarai is unable to have children.

So, it is here where we find Abram and Sarai - where today’s story opens in Genesis 12. In Haran. With no children.

The Lord said to Abram, “Leave your land, your family, and your father’s household for the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation and will bless you. I will make your name respected, and you will be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you,

    those who curse you I will curse;

        all the families of the earth

            will be blessed because of you.”

Abram left just as the Lord told him, and Lot went with him. Now Abram was 75 years old when he left Haran. Abram took his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all of their possessions, and those who became members of their household in Haran; and they set out for the land of Canaan. When they arrived in Canaan, Abram traveled through the land as far as the sacred place at Shechem, at the oak of Moreh. The Canaanites lived in the land at that time. The Lord appeared to Abram and said, “I give this land to your descendants,” so Abram built an altar there to the Lord who appeared to him. From there he traveled toward the mountains east of Bethel, and pitched his tent with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. There he built an altar to the Lord and worshipped in the Lord’s name. Then Abram set out toward the arid southern plain, making and breaking camp as he went.

When a famine struck the land, Abram went down toward Egypt to live as an immigrant since the famine was so severe in the land. Just before he arrived in Egypt, he said to his wife Sarai, “I know you are a good-looking woman. When the Egyptians see you, they will say, ‘This is his wife,’ and they will kill me but let you live. So tell them you are my sister so that they will treat me well for your sake, and I will survive because of you.”

When Abram entered Egypt, the Egyptians saw how beautiful his wife was. When Pharaoh’s princes saw her, they praised her to Pharaoh; and the woman was taken into Pharaoh’s household. Things went well for Abram because of her: he acquired flocks, cattle, male donkeys, men servants, women servants, female donkeys, and camels. Then the Lord struck Pharaoh and his household with severe plagues because of Abram’s wife Sarai.  --Gen. 12:1-17 (CEB)

It’s interesting to me that, as with Noah in last week’s story, God once more is moving from the distant - from a broader dealing with humanity - to the personal. To Abram and Sarai. 

God calls this couple through whom God promises to bless the whole earth. Abram and Sarai have one function in God’s plan. That is to be a blessing to all families of the “ground.” In most translations this phrase is translated as “families of the earth” or “people of the earth”. But this obscures a crucial aspect of this story of Abram and Sarai. The better translation is "families of the 'ground.'" The Hebrew word here, adamah, is the word first used in Genesis 2 to describe the creation of human beings from the “dust of the ground.” It’s the ground referenced in Genesis 3 to which all life will return in death. It’s the ground that literally opened its mouth to receive the blood of Abel after he was murdered by his brother, Cain, in Genesis 4 - and the ground from which Cain is cursed. In the Noah story, we read in Genesis 5, the hope that he will bring rest from this curse of the ground. But, then, in Genesis 9 it is from the ground that Noah receives wine that leads to his drunken nakedness and the breakup of his family. So, when we hear the call of Abram and Sarai to be a blessing to all families of the “ground” we understand what this is - a new attempt on the part of God to reconstitute the harmony of creation. This is a missionary call for Abram that will be echoed throughout the entire biblical narrative - including to you and to me. That, having been blessed by God in our many and unique ways, we then become a blessing to others.

So, Abram and Sarai go to the land they are promised, stopping at various points along the way to offer sacrifices of gratitude to the God who has called them. But, it is not long before a crisis comes. And the promise of God through Abram and Sarai is soon in trouble.

A famine strikes Canaan. They go south to Egypt - the bread basket of the ancient Near East. On the way, Abram does some thinking - about himself and his future. He devises a scheme to ensure his own safety by trafficking - let’s be honest here that’s what he’s doing, right? - trafficking his own wife to ensure his self-serving plan. 

Now, we first need to recognize that we live in a time and culture that is very, very distant from Abram’s. Women were viewed as property. Polygamy was common. Cousins married cousins. Spouses were not true partners - a husband was the lord and master of the wife and exercised complete control over her body. Over her responsibilities. Over her life. 

The other thing we need to know is that, further on in Genesis, we learn that Sarai really is Abram’s sister. His half-sister. So, in many respects, Abram is telling the truth here. But, remember God’s call for Abram and Sarai? To be a blessing to all the families of the ground. Abram’s actions here end up harming an innocent man - whether the man is powerful or not. Abram is not a blessing to the Pharoah. Either Abram has misheard God or simply forgotten God’s promise to preserve and protect him. His fear has gotten in the way of his trust in this promise - a promise from God of blessing. 

I wonder how many of us forget the promises of God in the midst of our own fears and worries. Wondering about our lives. Or about our loved ones’ lives. Fearing the worst. And, as a result of that fear, acting out of self-preservation, even if it harms innocent people.

Friends, God wants us to be free of fear. God wants us to truly trust that God will do what God says. The core of the relationship between God and Abram was to be blessed and to be a blessing. God remembered and honored that promise for him. 

Abram was given that promise. It has been given to us, as well. We may forget it. But, as with Abram, God did not forget him. And God has not forgotten us. Amen.

Preached Sunday, September 18, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

15th Sunday after Pentecost

Reading: Genesis 12:1-17

The Call to Serve: Being First

From there Jesus and his followers went through Galilee, but he didn’t want anyone to know it. This was because he was teaching his disciples, “The Human One will be delivered into human hands. They will kill him. Three days after he is killed he will rise up.” But they didn’t understand this kind of talk, and they were afraid to ask him.

They entered Capernaum. When they had come into a house, he asked them, “What were you arguing about during the journey?” They didn’t respond, since on the way they had been debating with each other about who was the greatest. He sat down, called the Twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be least of all and the servant of all.” Jesus reached for a little child, placed him among the Twelve, and embraced him. Then he said, “Whoever welcomes one of these children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me isn’t actually welcoming me but rather the one who sent me.” --Mark 9:30-37 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

When I was a child, my mother - as most mother’s do, I think - try to convince their children to eat everything that is on their plate.  (You’ll notice that I learned that lesson well!) One of my mom’s stock phrases to encourage us was to remind us that there were starving children in China. (Perhaps you heard this, too?) As my siblings and I got older, we used to mock my mom, asking her how not eating our food would help these starving Chinese children. Was she going to personally pack up our leftovers and ship them overseas? You can only imagine what a hard time we gave her!

Yet, there was truth behind this saying for her. It was about not wasting our food. The ultimate truth behind this statement was for us to learn to not use more than we needed. Notice, I said needed. And not wanted.

This difference between need and want was something I worked hard at with my own son. While I backed off pushing him to clean his plate, I still tried to teach him to make choices that were moderate choices. To only take as much food as he could actually eat. To live simply and frugally. And to remember that he was part of a vast earth filled with billions of people who were all interconnected and loved by God. And, yes, that wasting food was not a good thing, especially when we knew there we so many others out there who didn’t have as much or even anything to eat. 

Tonight, we come together on this first day of Lent. Ash Wednesday. When we will receive the ashes on our foreheads. And remember our eventual return to that from which we were made. Dust. Earth. And the breath of God. 

In Genesis 2, we hear how God created humankind after God had first made the rest of creation. Forming man out of the dust of the ground. Breathing into his nose the breath of life. If one looks closely at this verse in the Hebrew, we recognize that it’s a Hebrew pun. Adam, meaning human. Adamah, meaning dust of the ground. Humanity - we - are literally people of the dirt. 

We don’t like to think of ourselves this way. As “dirt people.” Instead, we like to think of ourselves as good. Often, as really good. Or, even the best. The best at what we do. At who we are. Particularly, at being the people of God. I wonder if it’s more cultural than anything else. After all, in our country, we’re all about being first, aren’t we? Maybe that’s why it’s no real surprise to us in tonight’s reading that the disciples are arguing over this very same question. About which one of them is greatest. Or the best. About which one of them is first. This, when just a few verses earlier, Jesus has been trying to teach them about the betrayal and death he will suffer by human hands. By the very hands of dirt people.

This is Jesus’ second of three teachings in Mark of his own death. Each time, scripture tells us that the disciples were agnoeo in Greek. Meaning, ignorant. Not understanding. One wonders if it was willful. Or perhaps it was just easier to remain ignorant. Because to face the truth of what the future would bring might be too frightening. We, as human beings, do not like to talk about death. Whether it is our own death, or the death of loved ones, or even the death of our eco-systems, we don’t like to talk about it, because to do so is to face the reality that everything and everyone eventually dies.

Maybe this is why we like to pretend that global warming isn’t happening, even though the evidence for it is all around us. Perhaps this is why we continue to engage in practices in our own lives that perpetuate it. Our insistence, for example, on continuing to use single-use plastics, even though we know the damage this has done to our environment. Our willful ignorance of our own carbon imprint and our unwillingness to change practices to mitigate it. Our resistance to electing political leaders who will begin to address the devastation we have brought upon our planet, much less even admit that we are the major cause of this, because admitting it would mean that, for us, just as for the disciples, being first is more important than anything else. Perhaps even more important than Jesus’ own sacrifice and death.

Notice that, in his response, Jesus turns the disciples to focus on the children. Children, who, in Jesus’ day had no status, when infant mortality rates often reached 30%, with another 30% of children dead by the age of six, and another 60% percent gone by the age of sixteen. Children always suffered first from famine, war, disease, and dislocation. Childhood in Jesus’ day was a time of terror. 

For many children in our world today, it is also a time of terror. Here in Kentucky alone, over 11 million children live in food insecure households. At least 4 million families with children are being exposed to high levels of lead. Fourteen million families are faced with water bills that they can no longer afford for water often contaminated with pollutants from pesticide, fertilizer runoff, or coal ash.  Those who are last in our world - children and other vulnerable populations - are much more likely than any others to experience the greatest negative effects of global warming. 

Do the disciples care about the children? Do we care about the children? And not just our own children and grandchildren. Do we care about the children in China as well as the rest of the world? Leah Schade writes that “How we treat the most vulnerable in human society...reveals our values. It’s also how we treat the most vulnerable in God’s creation. For example, if we look at a beautiful forested mountain and only value it for the coal or gas or oil beneath its surface and are willing to sacrifice [that mountain] for our short-term needs, then we are, in fact, not following God’s will for ourselves or our children. The well-being of children and the well-being of God’s creation are fundamentally linked.” 

This is why Ash Wednesday and Lent is so important for us. Because it is a season of coming in touch with our own sinfulness, our own need for redemption, and our own mortality. It’s a time for us to learn - to really learn - what it is to be people of the dirt. To be dust and ashes. To give up being first. To learn moderation, as my mother tried to teach us. To care for all of the children and the vulnerable in our world. And to realign ourselves with the earth from which we came and the breath of God which gives us life, before the "dust returns to the earth as it was before and the life-breath returns to God who gave it.”

Return, people of the dirt filled with God’s breath. It is time to return. Amen.

Preached February 26, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Ash Wednesday
Readings: Mark 9:30-37; Ecclesiastes 12:1-7; Psalm 32:1-5