Why should we believe God this time?
Sarah andAbraham have been on a long journey. They’ve left their home in the land of Ur,they’ve left their home in Haran, because God said “I will make of you a greatnation”.
They’veleft most of their family behind, said goodbye to brothers and sisters andcousins, because God said “I will make of you a great nation”.
But, yousee, in order to become a great nation, you need to have children. There’s nodemocratically elected nationhood happening in the ancient world—to be anation, to be a people with a leader, that leader must have children.
It’s easyto see what the problem is, right? No children means no nation. And even thoughAbraham and Sarah have made it through famine, Egypt, tons of family drama...there’s still no son.
God keepssaying over and over again “I will make of you a great nation”, and that “yourdescendents with be numerous”. But does God keep God’s promises? Will God keepthis promise?
It’s easyto read what happens just after this lesson ends, you know that bit where Sarahlaughs as she overhears all of this, and she’s chastised for doing so, like“what, you don’t believe God?”. It’s easy to reduce this to disbelief
But wouldwe really believe God after all of this? Promises of nationhood, repeated overand over again. This might just be another promise, no follow-through.
ScholarValerie Bridgeman makes a compelling case that instead of asking why theydidn’t believe God’s promise, the question really is “why should they believeGod this time?”.
Why shouldthey believe God this time?
We might beable to ask the same question about our Gospel lesson—the famous Mary andMartha story. In a world of wandering prophets and oppression, why is Jesus anydifferent from the last one? There’s plenty of prophets and and rebels inJudea. Why should Martha believe that Jesus is the one, this time?
Yes, sure,they’re described as friends of Jesus, but maybe Jesus is one of those friendswho has ten new ideas per minute, “hey guys, I have a great new business idea,listen to this one! This will be the one that wins big!”. We’ve all known, ormaybe we’ve been someone like this—lots of energy, lots of ideas, and the idea doesn’talways translate to action. Maybe Jesus isn’t really any different.
Why shouldthey believe God this time?
I wonder ifyou’ve ever thought this. Why should I believe God this time? Why should Ibelieve this promise in scripture this time? Or perhaps a more familiarquestion: does God actually hear these prayers? Why doesn’t God do something?Why should I believe that God will do something this time?
I know I’vethought all of those questions before. Many times.
It’s hardto see the death and pain and oppression in this world and not wonder why weshould believe a promise of hope and mercy this time.
It’s hardto get the diagnosis, to sit with a suffering loved one, and not wonder why weshould believe a promise of relief and healing this time.
It’s hardto pray with our feet and feed the hungry and shelter the homeless and aid therefugee in the face of unrelenting need and divisive political policies, andnot wonder why we should believe a promise of care and new creation.
Why shouldwe believe God this time?
And I willadmit that I’m not standing here with the right answer, or even an answer to thisquestion.
But what Ido know is that we are not the first people to ask this question.
And if welook at the stories of Abraham and Sarah, and Mary and Martha, people who mightlogically ask why they should believe God this time, they both do one thing,regardless of their skepticism.
They offerhospitality. A place for the three men to sit, bread, milk, curds, the fattedcalf. Abraham literally ran out to invite the them in, like “come, come, justhave a little bread”, and instead of an appetizer, he prepares a three coursemeal. “Come. Eat. You are welcome here.”
Mary andMartha offer the hospitality of their home. Mary sits at the feet of Jesus, hisdisciple, listening to an honored guest. Martha prepares food, which as Jesuspoints out, distracts her from his teachings, but this work is also the work ofhospitality.
Mary andMartha, Abraham and Sarah, offer hospitality to Jesus, to the Lord, from theordinary space of their daily lives.
They don’tknow that any particular transformation will take place.
They don’tknow if this will be the moment when everything will change.
Should theybelieve God this time? Perhaps not, but nonetheless, they make space for thepresence of God in their lives, and by doing this, they allow for the possiblityof transformation.
Hospitalityallows for the possibilty of transformation.
Hopefulhospitality says that maybe, this will be the time. Perhaps it will be thistime, and this space.
I don’tthink they knew that it would be the moment of change in their lives. Sarahdidn’t think that she’d have a child after all this time. Mary didn’t wake upthat morning planning to take up the role of pupil, a role very much for men inthat culture.
Friends, wedon’t know when we can stop asking the question. We don’t know if this moment,this Sunday in church, this Eucharist will be the moment of transformation. Wedon’t know if this prayer will be followed by good news.
But perhapswe might find our hope in hospitality. Hope in the practice of opening theordinary moments in our lives to the possiblity, to the probablity that therewill be grace and transformation in this time. In hospitality, the tradjectoryof the world and our daily lives collides with God’s presence and promise.
And oneday, we will find ourselves like Sarah and Abraham and Mary and Martha, face toface with the promise fulfilled—the promise of a new creation, the redeeminglove of the cross that cannot help but fold the world in an embrace.
And we will find ourselves, saying as the poet Wendell Berry writes, “here, as we have never been before... our place Holy, although we knew it not”.
Lectionary: Genesis 18:1-10a, Luke 10:38-42