June 29, 2014
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Sermon
Our scripture ( Genesis 22:1-14) today begins with a test, and you know that can’t be good. We’re big on testing, so when we read that God tested Abraham, we have a lot of experience to draw from, although that doesn’t mean this will be any fun.
What is the point of a test, anyway? Whether it’s mathematics or driving, a test proves that you’ve mastered the material. Thinking of Abraham’s story in this way, what material did he need to master? One might say that Abraham’s subject is faith—he’s learning to follow God’s call. While at this point he’s had a lot of experience, that’s not to say he always has gotten everything right, so maybe God does feel a need to test and see if Abraham is getting it. So God presents Abraham with the ultimate test—sacrifice your son because I say so. Abraham passes this test, but here’s the problem: How do we know that God will not demand from us who are now attempting to walk by faith that same answer? Will a divine test demand that we destroy what is dearest to us?
Tests don’t always judge the individual, however. Sometimes we’re testing the system. We do this in education all the time with all those standardized tests meant to demonstrate whether schools are working or not. Hospitals do this, emergency responders do it as well—all testing to see whether or not their systems of response are adequate. There’s a bigger story behind the story of Abraham, a story told through the whole book of Genesis. Obviously Genesis is the story of the beginning, and it goes like this. God created everything there is, and the creation was good, but shortly thereafter things started falling apart. Violence and misbehavior of various sorts marred God’s creation. How does the creator respond to a creation in rebellion? God’s attempts to deal with this big picture in a big way aren’t working. So God changes tactics. Putting the big picture aside, the Creator will start with one. One man, one family, one nation—and in that first, unique relationship God will accomplish his will. Not right away, but one by one, bit by bit, relationships will build, reconciliation will be known and God’s loving plan will be the way of life. It’s a big plan, and a major change of tactic, from divine distance to close relationship. A lot is riding on Abraham. At this point we’re about halfway through the book of Genesis, and God needs to know: is this first step working?
Seen this way, we can read the story in two directions. First, Abraham passes the test. This new relationship of faith is working. Abraham has learned to trust God, even when such trust seems impossible. Secondly, we, Abraham’s heirs, can commend Abraham for his faith even while recognizing what Abraham does is morally reprehensible and not to be copied in any way. Will there be a divine test commanding us to sacrifice our children? The point made here is the opposite: God’s people can trust that their God will never make such a demand. That may not seem like a big point to us, but in Abraham’s day, and for subsequent biblical generations this promise is huge. While other people bargained with their gods, proving their loyalties with the ultimate sacrifice, God’s people depend on a relationship that forbids that very practice.
So what does that mean to us, other than release from an ancient religious practice? You’ll notice that I’ve been talking about faith and trust. Those words are really euphemisms: what Abraham does is obey. He hears a voice and does what it says. In Hebrew there is no word for obey, only the phrase “to hear the voice.” In other words one recognizes the voice of authority, and so does what the voice says. Apparently it was a simpler time.
What’s astonishing in Abraham’s story is that he hears only this one voice. This is a test we would most certainly fail. One voice? How can there be just one? Bumperstickers and Internet commentators tell us all the time—just do what God says. But it’s never that simple. How do you know which voice is God’s when there are so many possibilities, so many opportunities and even temptations—but not all of them bad. Abraham heard one voice. Is that even possible? How do we know what God wants us to do?
Granted, sometimes we know that the voice doesn’t belong to God. The voice telling us to sacrifice our children, for example—that would be wrong. But let’s not pretend that we are somehow superior to Abraham in this regard; we may not use a knife, but we sacrifice our children all the time. In the midst of competing interests, politics, economics and powers, who’s looking out for the children? Just look at the most recent Escondido controversy—how to respond to the presence of children from Central America in our country. No matter how you think the crisis should be solved, those are children who have been sacrificed. Children caught up in political and economic systems that they did not create—who cares about their future? Powers beyond sacrificed these children. It happens all the time.
Such situations aren’t tests for us, they are dilemmas. What does God want us to do? Abraham’s story won’t help us here; we’re going to have to turn to another voice, one that we claim to hear and follow, and that would be Jesus.
In the Gospel today, Jesus continues with some instructions on what it means to be his followers. This time the instructions are pretty easy because all we need to do is welcome some folks. We can do that, right? It is a rather odd group to welcome, but Jesus promises we will be rewarded. We just need to welcome the prophets, the righteous and the little ones. So who are they?
Easiest to start with the righteous, I think. These are the folks who do the right thing. They are our heroes. We might even be able to think of a few, the people we admire, whose stories we like to remember. Now the thing is, while we admire them, we don’t always follow them because what they do—while it’s impressive, it’s often hard, or requires a level of involvement we’re not quite ready to give. We put the righteous on a pedestal, but welcoming them? That would mean they sit at our table, that we talk to them, and maybe even find that our excuses aren’t the barriers to action that we imagined or hoped they might be.
See where this is going? The prophets bring similar challenges. Prophets know what God wants. We like to imagine that we know what God wants. God wants what I want. God’s purposes are fulfilled in my comfort and happiness, at least that’s what we’d like to believe until the prophet shows up and starts telling us a different story, about how God’s plan is bigger than our comfort, but has to do with his Kingdom, the place of belonging and reconciliation for all. The prophet tells us that our lives will be found there. Do we want to welcome that message?
So what about the little ones? They sound kind of cute, not threatening. That’s Jesus’ point. The little ones aren’t threatening. They have no power, no strength. They have needs, and little to offer. They are the ones who get sacrificed by the powers that can. If we were to welcome them it would be a question of giving, but we wouldn’t be getting back. The little ones are the poor, the helpless, the ones who don’t have their lives together.
How do we welcome them? Jesus says it doesn’t take much. A cup of cold water is enough, just a little act of kindness, and somehow that little act makes a difference. The important question is why—why would we do this? And the answer is because we are told to. We hear Jesus’ voice telling us that this is the way it is because that’s what Jesus always says. Like the prophet and the righteous ones, Jesus tells us that our lives are not found where we imagine they will be. It’s when we give up being the center of the universe that we will find out where we belong. In this command to welcome we find the same old Good News: we find our lives when we lose them.
This isn’t a test, it’s a way—Jesus’ way of life. I suppose it could be a test if you want to see it that way, though, you could test the Gospel to see if it works. You could give it a try: Do something in the name of Christ, just a little something. Does it make a difference? We might never know, of course, how one kind word sparks a little hope, and one little hope gets someone’s life moving again, and one life builds another. We might not see it all. But then we might indeed see how it works for us, how our welcome of the prophet, the righteous and the little ones changes us forever. Might be worth testing.