Sunday, June 18, 2023
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7
The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, “My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.
They said to him, “Where is your wife Sarah?” And he said, “There, in the tent.” Then one said, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women. So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son.” But Sarah denied, saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “Oh yes, you did laugh.”
The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And she said, “Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.”
Recently someone told me that they loved my laugh because, they said, it comes from your belly. And I thought: Dear Lord, am I really that loud? But I took their comment as the compliment it was. Because truth be told, I do like a good laugh – the kind that clears your mind and sends oxygen to your vital organs and releases all those marvelous endorphins. Maybe that’s why the book of Proverbs says that a cheerful heart is good medicine.
But not all laughs are good medicine. Sometimes, we laugh out of regret or embarrassment or bitterness. Sometimes we laugh so we will not cry or scream or curse.
And it is laughter, in all its various forms, that takes the main stage in today’s well-known story from the book of Genesis. But before we get to today’s story, we need to understand the whole story of how we got here.
One day, an old man named Abram, later to be called Abraham, heard some disembodied Voice tell him to pack up his family and all of his possession and move to a land he hadn’t even heard of before. And once they got there, the Voice said, Abram and his wife, Sarai, later to called Sarah, would have a family that would become a great nation.
But they were already really, really old to be starting a family. And Sarai had never been able have children. But that disembodied Voice was compelling and the promise was alluring, and so they set out, living as nomads in a foreign land.
But years passed, and no children were born. And just about the time that Abram was going to toss in the towel, the Voice, otherwise known as God, offered this teaser: “Look toward the heavens and count the stars, if you are able to count them… So shall your descendants be.”
Well, God sounded pretty sure about all of this, so Abram and Sarai kept trying. But no children came. Finally, Sarai, being the practical one, decided that enough was enough. So, she called her husband aside and said: “Look, if you really want to have children, then I suggest you have them with my young slave, Hagar.”
Dollars to donuts, Abram didn’t need a lot of convincing. And sure enough, Hagar conceived and gave birth to a little boy named Ishmael, whom tradition says is the ancestor of the Arab people. And so, at long last, Abram had a son at the ripe old age of 86. Except remember that the promise had also been made to Sarai. And that promise had not been fulfilled.
And it was at this point that God changed both of their names. Abram’s name was changed to Abraham and Sarai’s name to Sarah, which means Princess. This is the only time in the Bible that a woman is renamed. And that’s a very big deal, because renaming always signifies a divine calling. Sarah was called right along with Abraham.
And with that, we arrive at today’s story, when three strangers appeared at the entrance of Abraham and Sarah’s tent. But these were not just any visitors. Instead this was a “theophany,” a fancy word that means an appearance of the deity to humans.
But Abraham didn’t know that. Still, he offered them the extravagant hospitality that his culture required. He bent low to the ground before them as a sign of humility and service. He asked them to sit in the shade and brought them some cold water to drink. He told Sarah to make some fresh bread. And he ordered a servant to slaughter a calf so that a feast could be prepared.
During that feast, with a mouthful of veal, one of the strangers asked: “Where is Sarah?” Now, that was an odd question, because the women never sat down to eat with the men. “Why do you want to know?” asked Abraham. And the stranger replied: “Because your wife is going to have a son.”
Well, Sarah was eavesdropping just inside the entrance to the tent. And that detail always makes me laugh. That’s something I would do! And when she heard the same tired tale about a long-promised baby, and from some stranger, no less, she laughed. And the more she tried to contain it, the harder she laughed.
Well, it must have been a belly laugh, because the visitors heard her. “Why is she laughing?” the stranger wanted to know. And then he asked a question that God continues to ask the faithful in every generation: “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”
Well, Sarah was rather embarrassed that she had been caught, and so she did what lots of us do when we get caught. She lied. “I did not laugh,” she said. And the stranger smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. “Sure, you did,” he replied. And maybe Sarah smiled too.
Soon thereafter, Sarah became pregnant at the age of 90. And she gave birth to a son named him Isaac. In Hebrew, Isaac means, “he laughs.” And this story ends with Sarah’s marvelous words: “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And Sarah, who had been the brunt of jokes all her married life, had the last laugh.
It is said that Abraham is the father of our faith. And if that is so, then Sarah is the mother of our faith. But she’s more than that. Sarah is also the mother of our very real humanity, and the mother of our doubts. In her, we see something of ourselves, so weary of promises that never seem to be fulfilled. In her, we see laughter that is a defense mechanism and a mask for pain. In Sarah, we see those of us who has held onto hope for so long that we are exhausted enough to just laugh at the prospect.
But did you notice that when the divine stranger asked Sarah why she was laughing, and even when she lied about it, there was no judgment about the laughter? And this underscores an essential truth about our faith: there is no judgment in our being human. It is not a sin or some sign of weakness to struggle with doubt. There is no punishment for our periodic lapses into cynicism. And perhaps best of all, God doesn’t take back God’s promises just because we don’t always believe them.
I don’t always believe them. How can I? I look at the state of the world. And when I do, cynicism is just so much easier. And the idea of Eden restored just seems impossible.
Sarah did not live to see the mighty nation that would come from her offspring. But she did live long enough to see the beginning of the dream in the birth of her son. And so, have we. We have all witnessed moments when truth is triumphant. And we have all experienced a love that wins. And we have known that whenever goodness and mercy and justice spring up in this world – and in us – that the Reign of God has come very near. It is not the full dream fulfilled, but it’s enough for us to cling to the promise that nothing shall be too wonderful for the Lord.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7
The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, “My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.
They said to him, “Where is your wife Sarah?” And he said, “There, in the tent.” Then one said, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women. So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son.” But Sarah denied, saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “Oh yes, you did laugh.”
The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And she said, “Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.”
Recently someone told me that they loved my laugh because, they said, it comes from your belly. And I thought: Dear Lord, am I really that loud? But I took their comment as the compliment it was. Because truth be told, I do like a good laugh – the kind that clears your mind and sends oxygen to your vital organs and releases all those marvelous endorphins. Maybe that’s why the book of Proverbs says that a cheerful heart is good medicine.
But not all laughs are good medicine. Sometimes, we laugh out of regret or embarrassment or bitterness. Sometimes we laugh so we will not cry or scream or curse.
And it is laughter, in all its various forms, that takes the main stage in today’s well-known story from the book of Genesis. But before we get to today’s story, we need to understand the whole story of how we got here.
One day, an old man named Abram, later to be called Abraham, heard some disembodied Voice tell him to pack up his family and all of his possession and move to a land he hadn’t even heard of before. And once they got there, the Voice said, Abram and his wife, Sarai, later to called Sarah, would have a family that would become a great nation.
But they were already really, really old to be starting a family. And Sarai had never been able have children. But that disembodied Voice was compelling and the promise was alluring, and so they set out, living as nomads in a foreign land.
But years passed, and no children were born. And just about the time that Abram was going to toss in the towel, the Voice, otherwise known as God, offered this teaser: “Look toward the heavens and count the stars, if you are able to count them… So shall your descendants be.”
Well, God sounded pretty sure about all of this, so Abram and Sarai kept trying. But no children came. Finally, Sarai, being the practical one, decided that enough was enough. So, she called her husband aside and said: “Look, if you really want to have children, then I suggest you have them with my young slave, Hagar.”
Dollars to donuts, Abram didn’t need a lot of convincing. And sure enough, Hagar conceived and gave birth to a little boy named Ishmael, whom tradition says is the ancestor of the Arab people. And so, at long last, Abram had a son at the ripe old age of 86. Except remember that the promise had also been made to Sarai. And that promise had not been fulfilled.
And it was at this point that God changed both of their names. Abram’s name was changed to Abraham and Sarai’s name to Sarah, which means Princess. This is the only time in the Bible that a woman is renamed. And that’s a very big deal, because renaming always signifies a divine calling. Sarah was called right along with Abraham.
And with that, we arrive at today’s story, when three strangers appeared at the entrance of Abraham and Sarah’s tent. But these were not just any visitors. Instead this was a “theophany,” a fancy word that means an appearance of the deity to humans.
But Abraham didn’t know that. Still, he offered them the extravagant hospitality that his culture required. He bent low to the ground before them as a sign of humility and service. He asked them to sit in the shade and brought them some cold water to drink. He told Sarah to make some fresh bread. And he ordered a servant to slaughter a calf so that a feast could be prepared.
During that feast, with a mouthful of veal, one of the strangers asked: “Where is Sarah?” Now, that was an odd question, because the women never sat down to eat with the men. “Why do you want to know?” asked Abraham. And the stranger replied: “Because your wife is going to have a son.”
Well, Sarah was eavesdropping just inside the entrance to the tent. And that detail always makes me laugh. That’s something I would do! And when she heard the same tired tale about a long-promised baby, and from some stranger, no less, she laughed. And the more she tried to contain it, the harder she laughed.
Well, it must have been a belly laugh, because the visitors heard her. “Why is she laughing?” the stranger wanted to know. And then he asked a question that God continues to ask the faithful in every generation: “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”
Well, Sarah was rather embarrassed that she had been caught, and so she did what lots of us do when we get caught. She lied. “I did not laugh,” she said. And the stranger smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. “Sure, you did,” he replied. And maybe Sarah smiled too.
Soon thereafter, Sarah became pregnant at the age of 90. And she gave birth to a son named him Isaac. In Hebrew, Isaac means, “he laughs.” And this story ends with Sarah’s marvelous words: “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And Sarah, who had been the brunt of jokes all her married life, had the last laugh.
It is said that Abraham is the father of our faith. And if that is so, then Sarah is the mother of our faith. But she’s more than that. Sarah is also the mother of our very real humanity, and the mother of our doubts. In her, we see something of ourselves, so weary of promises that never seem to be fulfilled. In her, we see laughter that is a defense mechanism and a mask for pain. In Sarah, we see those of us who has held onto hope for so long that we are exhausted enough to just laugh at the prospect.
But did you notice that when the divine stranger asked Sarah why she was laughing, and even when she lied about it, there was no judgment about the laughter? And this underscores an essential truth about our faith: there is no judgment in our being human. It is not a sin or some sign of weakness to struggle with doubt. There is no punishment for our periodic lapses into cynicism. And perhaps best of all, God doesn’t take back God’s promises just because we don’t always believe them.
I don’t always believe them. How can I? I look at the state of the world. And when I do, cynicism is just so much easier. And the idea of Eden restored just seems impossible.
Sarah did not live to see the mighty nation that would come from her offspring. But she did live long enough to see the beginning of the dream in the birth of her son. And so, have we. We have all witnessed moments when truth is triumphant. And we have all experienced a love that wins. And we have known that whenever goodness and mercy and justice spring up in this world – and in us – that the Reign of God has come very near. It is not the full dream fulfilled, but it’s enough for us to cling to the promise that nothing shall be too wonderful for the Lord.
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