Unexpected Hope

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Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7 tells the story of God’s promise to Sarah and Abraham and the birth of Isaac, the expected and unexpected child.

Imagine you are travelling through the desert. There were no hotels, gas stations, or restaurants. Just sand as far as the eye can see. Through the bright glare of the sun, you glimpse something. Maybe it’s nothing but you adjust your direction a bit. As you get closer, you realize it’s an oasis. Water, a grove of trees, several tents. While you are still walking, someone notices you and gets up and runs towards you. He bows to you and your companions and introduces himself as Abraham.

Abraham invites you to come and sit under a tree. The tree is ancient and gnarled. It branches spread wide creating a large area of shade. You gratefully rest under the canopy of that tree. Abraham brings water and washes the sand and dust from your feet as you lie back and relax. It’s much cooler in the shade and the water Abraham brought is so refreshing. You lay back and go to sleep.

Several hours later, you awake to the smell of roasting meat and baking bread. Abraham approaches with meat, cheese and bread. He brings you wine to quench your thirst.

Abraham is good at hospitality. He knows how to make guests feel comfortable and welcome. He knows how to fill their bellies with food and drink. Abraham’s hospitality is repaid with the reiteration of a promise made 35 years before—Abraham and Sarah will have a child. You can imagine being promised a child and then waiting 35 years. The fulfilment of that promise in their old age is unlikely at best. It’s no wonder Sarah laughed dismissively.

And yet sitting under this old, gnarled tree, anything is possible. Rabbi Chananel who lived between 980-1055C.E. “asked why the angels revealed themselves to Abraham under a tree. He answered that in doing so they revealed a message to Abraham: “You, like a tree, will flourish even in your old age.” As it says in the Book of Job, “For a tree has hope; if it is cut it will again renew itself, and its trunk will never cease.” In the words of the Psalmist, “You shall be planted as a tree planted beside streams of water, which brings forth its fruit in its season. Its leaves do not wilt, and whatever it does prospers. Abraham’s resilience and prosperity are compared to a tree.” (EcoBible)

The angels remind Abraham as he serves them under the tree’s canopy that God’s promises are long-term and sometimes unexpected. Even when possibilities are limited, hope can be renewed. There’s this lovely sense of longevity in this image. It is strong and firm and rooted. This is an image filled with possibilities and hope. We can learn from the trees about long-term waiting. In our climate, trees have seasons. Deciduous trees are particularly noticeable. We wait every spring for the leaves to come out. We enjoy the shade they provide in the heat of summer. We find joy in the colours of fall. And then in winter, trees take a break from the work of growth so they can be nourished and replenished. There is something hopeful about this cycle. Even when the tree drops its leaves, we trust that in the spring it will be renewed with life.

But what happens when trees start dying unexpectedly in large numbers? When I talked to my dad last week, he told me that trees around the farmyard where I grew up are dying from drought. These are trees that have lived through my whole lifetime and most of his lifetime. While trees are resilient, there comes a point where they can no longer withstand drought. We watched a larger-than-normal number of trees burn this summer. Invasive tree-killing insects are also spreading because of warmer climates. Even the resilient trees are being threatened because of climate change. Is climate change also killing our hope and sense of resilience?

Finding that sense of long-term hope can be very challenging. What we see before us can be overwhelming and all-encompassing. We might think that all the possibilities exist in our small view. Part of the story we didn’t hear this morning follows Hagar and her son Ishmael. Hagar was Sarah’s slave. When Sarah couldn’t get pregnant, she offered Hagar to Abraham and Ishmael was born. That was fine, but once Isaac was born, Sarah became jealous and forced Hagar and Ishmael to leave the camp. Hospitality was not shown to Hagar and Ishmael as they were left to fend for themselves in the desert. But even as they waited to die from heat exhaustion and dehydration in the desert, God appeared. Hagar was shown a well and they both survived and thrived. Again, there is an unexpected hope and promise beyond what could be imagined.

Between climate change, hatred, and the rise of Christian nationalism it can be challenging to find hope and to hang onto a long-term hope. It can be hard not to hold onto the despair that we see in the world. It is hard not to become infected by the hatred that we feel around us. And yet we are called to be people of hope—just like Abraham and Sarah and Hagar and Ishmael.

What we see in our immediate vision, isn’t all that exists. We see limited possibilities based on what we already know or what our experience tells us. But we need to be open to surprises. And we have a God who is full of surprises—Abraham and Sarah having a baby in their old age or Hagar finding a well in the desert just before she dies. Surprises might be a sign of hope for us.

We need to pay attention to the messengers around us. Some translations talk about the travellers in this story as angels. In Hebrew, angels are messengers from God. They are not necessarily otherworldly. Angels can be anyone created by God. Angels are strangers or friends. Angels come as modern-day prophets. Angels are trees or other creatures. When we pay attention to the messengers God places in our lives and really listen to what the angels say, we might be surprised at the hope we find. And we need to be prepared for surprises—like an unexpected ally, or someone who is open to being changed.
A promise on its own doesn’t necessarily create hope. When Sarah hears the news that she will have a baby within the year and that that child will parent many nations, she laughs derisively. She scoffs. And yet that’s exactly what happened. Imagine Sarah’s hope when she realized she was pregnant. For Sarah that unexpected pregnancy might have been the moment she began to have hope in the future. That might have been the moment Sarah and Abraham began to believe that the promise of a nation of descendants might be a reality.

Hope isn’t just wishing. Hope is grounded in the present reality and looking to the future. So when I think about climate change, I see the destruction that exists. I see tiny changes that myself and others are making. I see climate accords being signed which then gives the ability to hold governments accountable. When I see the hate around us, I also see people standing firm and challenging the hate. I see people working hard to create safer spaces, to work at creating welcome for all people. All these things are signs of hope. Without seeing these glimmers, it is easy to lose hope. Our own work in these areas might be the thing someone else needs to find their hope and be empowered. Each time someone finds hope, the promise of the flourishing of God’s creation extends a little further. And so we hope for a world made new.

Lament for the Earth

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Genesis 2:4b-25 is the second story of creation. Each of the creation stories was intended to stand alone, even though we often mash them together into one story.

The earth creature was made from the clay of the earth. God blew into the creature and it came to life. I can almost imagine God as a sculptor working with the clay, creating this earth creature. Once it is complete, God steps back to imagine their creation and decides it needs one more thing. God kisses the creature and blows life into this being. The being comes to life. In this version of the story, the earth creature is the first living being. Before the earth being, there was clay and water. Once the earth being was created, the rest of life could come forth.

And then God planted a garden—the Land of Pleasure—with the instruction to “till the ground.” A better translation of the Hebrew might be “serve the earth.” Serve the earth—one of the first commandments. There is a mutuality in this relationship. Our responsibility is to serve and care for the earth. In response, the earth will provide what we need for life.

In the story, the earth has springs of water welling up and overflowing. Those streams spread throughout the whole earth nourishing life everywhere. That water allowed all sorts of plants and trees to flourish. (slides) Imagine the lush green forest, a mountain stream, a flowered meadow. Even the desert blooms with life. This is creation, full and abundant.

Throughout this story, we see God improvising and trying to figure out what will be best. God doesn’t immediately know what the best companion for the earth creature looks like, so God uses the same clay to sculpt all sorts of creatures. This God is creative and experimental. This God keeps evolving the creatures. As they are formed, the first human names each one and in doing so enters into relationship with the creatures. The lives of the creatures and the first human were intertwined by their substance as clay, sharing the same creator, and by relationship. The Hebrew word for all the insects, animals and people translates as “a soul of life.” (Eco Bible vol 1)

Finally, a second human was created from the first. There is no hierarchy intended in this story because they come from the same flesh. The other creatures, who were not suitable partners, came directly from the clay. This second human came from the same flesh. They are intended as equal partners. This is a God who is all about relationships.

In the centre of the garden, the Land of Pleasure, there were two trees. One was the tree of life. The other was the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God gave the first human instructions: “You may eat as much as you like from any trees of the garden—except the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.” Right from the beginning, there were boundaries placed around what humans should and should not do. And from the beginning humans have struggled with those boundaries. Just one chapter later, we hear the story of Adam and Eve eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. That moment is a defining moment in humanity’s life. We begin in relationship with God, with all the other creatures, with the earth, and with one another. The breaking of that boundary caused a strain in all the first human relationships. Once one boundary had been crossed it became easier to cross others.

We often live as though there are no boundaries to what we can consume. We live as though we can go on taking resources from the earth. And yet the earth is telling us we cannot continue to live in this way. I want to offer words of lament.

Lament for the Earth

O God, this summer we have witnessed our own country and others burning up. We experience heat waves and smoke filled days. We watch people flee their homes and communities.

We witness animals destroyed by human activity. We see animals losing their habitat, living in captivity, and nearing extinction. We witness invasive species spreading to new areas. We remember that all these creatures have a soul of life.

We watch as glaciers and icecaps melt. We watch as deserts expand. We witness crops destroyed by drought or insects or floods. We watch coral reefs die.

We know that the air is clogged with pollution and the earth is heating up. We know that waterways are being polluted and disappearing in many places. We see the earth filled with plastic and waste and chemicals.

We see forests destroyed. We witness the destruction of stronger storms and hurricanes. We witness climate refugees moving because their own communities can no longer sustain their needs.

We go back to the creation story and remember the soul of life in all living things. We and all creation carry the soul of life and the breath of God within us. We believe in a God of redemption and resurrection. So this is not the end of the story. We remember that God isn’t finished with us yet. We open ourselves to God’s spirit at work in us and others. We are people of hope. We share with other United Church people an excerpt from A Song of Faith, our most recent statement of faith:

God is creative and self-giving,
generously moving
in all the near and distant corners of the universe.
Nothing exists that does not find its source in God.
Our first response to God’s providence is gratitude.
We sing thanksgiving.

Finding ourselves in a world of beauty and mystery,
of living things, diverse and interdependent,
of complex patterns of growth and evolution,
of subatomic particles and cosmic swirls,
we sing of God the Creator,
the Maker and Source of all that is.

Each part of creation reveals unique aspects of God the Creator,
who is both in creation and beyond it.
All parts of creation, animate and inanimate, are related.
All creation is good.
We sing of the Creator,
who made humans to live and move
and have their being in God.
In and with God,
we can direct our lives toward right relationship
with each other and with God.
We can discover our place as one strand in the web of life.
We can grow in wisdom and compassion.
We can recognize all people as kin.
We can accept our mortality and finitude, not as a curse,
but as a challenge to make our lives and choices matter.

Made in the image of God,
we yearn for the fulfillment that is life in God.
Yet we choose to turn away from God.
We surrender ourselves to sin,
a disposition revealed in selfishness, cowardice, or apathy.
Becoming bound and complacent
in a web of false desires and wrong choices,
we bring harm to ourselves and others.
This brokenness in human life and community
is an outcome of sin.
Sin is not only personal
but accumulates
to become habitual and systemic forms
of injustice, violence, and hatred.

We are all touched by this brokenness:
the rise of selfish individualism
that erodes human solidarity;
the concentration of wealth and power
without regard for the needs of all;
the toxins of religious and ethnic bigotry;
the degradation of the blessedness of human bodies
and human passions through sexual exploitation;
the delusion of unchecked progress and limitless growth
that threatens our home, the earth;
the covert despair that lulls many into numb complicity
with empires and systems of domination.
We sing lament and repentance.

Yet evil does not—cannot—undermine or overcome the love of God.
God forgives,
and calls all of us to confess our fears and failings
with honesty and humility.
God reconciles,
and calls us to repent the part we have played
in damaging our world, ourselves, and each other.
God transforms,
and calls us to protect the vulnerable,
to pray for deliverance from evil,
to work with God for the healing of the world,
that all might have abundant life.
We sing of grace.

The fullness of life includes
moments of unexpected inspiration and courage lived out,
experiences of beauty, truth, and goodness,
blessings of seeds and harvest,
friendship and family, intellect and sexuality,
the reconciliation of persons through justice
and communities living in righteousness,
and the articulation of meaning.
And so we sing of God the Spirit,
who from the beginning has swept over the face of creation,
animating all energy and matter
and moving in the human heart.

We sing of God the Spirit,
faithful and untameable,
who is creatively and redemptively active in the world.

In grateful response to God’s abundant love,
we bear in mind our integral connection
to the earth and one another;
we participate in God’s work of healing and mending creation.

Excerpt from Song of faith

The Challenge of Generosity

Grumpy: A monologue based on Deuteronomy 15:1-2, 7-11

What are you up to now, God? We’re settled in this place. I just want a bit of stability in my life after wandering in the desert for forty years. We survived on manna and whatever else you sent. I’m very grateful but I just want to be more settled. I always help my neighbours and loan them whatever they need. I work hard for everything I have.

Now you’re saying that not only do I have to loan to them whenever they ask, but every seven years all the debts will be cancelled. It doesn’t matter if I just loaned to them yesterday or seven years ago. Basically, I’m giving away my money. That’s not fair, God. And on top of that, I’m still supposed to be generous in caring for anyone in need. Why would you ask that of me, God? I’m not trying to get rich here. I just want a bit of stability and security. I want to provide for my family and leave something for the next generation. Is that too much to ask?

There’s always going to be poor people and people in need. I can’t fix that or change it. You think that giving people a break and being generous when people haven’t worked as hard as I have is going to make a difference? Nah. It’s just going to make people lazy. They know they don’t have to work as hard, and they get a free ride out of it so why would they bother?

I know you want all your people to have enough. I know that God. But what you’re asking feels pretty radical. You’re asking those of us with money to give it away, joyfully. It goes against common sense and logic. If I give my money away, I won’t have enough for my family and then I’ll be in need too. How does that help anyone?

I know you can see a bigger picture than I can God. I know you have concern for all your people. I know that and I want to follow but it’s just too much to ask. I can help a bit, but I don’t like the idea of forgiving debts. That cuts into my own money too much. I don’t want your people to suffer either. I’ll try to be generous with my other resources. It might alleviate some suffering, but it won’t solve the problem. I just don’t know how we can make sure everyone has enough and no one is over burdened.

Debt and Generosity

Last week we focussed on individual sabbath—taking time to enjoy God’s creation and connect with the Holy, friends and family. Our faith is very personal and nurturing our relationship with God allows us to thrive. But scripture is also clear that our faith is communal. Because faith is communal our sabbath is also communal.

The Hebrew people had been slaves and wandered in the desert for forty years. As they begin to settle, the laws we find in the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy help them organize themselves as a community. The idea is that if they follow these laws, their society and communities will flourish. If they aren’t able to follow the laws, it will bring suffering to the community—not as punishment but as a natural outcome.

In the ancient Near East, there was a tradition that new rulers sometimes cancelled all the debts made to the previous ruler, returned land that had been taken by the crown, and released the slaves. This release and return happened once in a ruler’s lifetime. There was no guarantee it would happen and no knowing when it would happen.

In Deuteronomy, we find something similar: Every seven years, you must forgive all debts.
What is different about what we hear in Deuteronomy is that it isn’t a ruler cancelling debts. It is the people themselves cancelling the debts. And this isn’t an occasional thing. This is to happen on a regular basis—every seven years. There is debate about whether or not the ancient Hebrews actually followed this practice but it does present an alternative vision for the way society could function.

In Exodus 23, there is a command to let the land lie fallow every seven years. The same Hebrew word is used here in regard to debts. Let the debts lie fallow. In other words, let the debts rest. Even in the world of finance, rest is important and required for society to function well. The point of forgiving debts every seven years practice is to prevent the concentration of wealth and power within a small group of people. Every seven years there would be a reset and the playing field would get levelled again.

This goes hand in hand with generosity. Do not be harsh or stingy with those in need. Be generous—and not with a grudging heart. There’s a recognition of the tendency towards hoarding our belongings, money, time, and energy. It sometimes feels easier to give the leftovers, the things we don’t want, the cheap food. But this is something else. Be generous with everything we have. Help in whatever way is needed.

The passage continues with more instructions: a loan shouldn’t be denied just because the seventh year is getting close. God seems to recognize how easy it is to get caught in self-interest. The “what do I get out of it” tendency. There’s no benefit to the person making the loan. In fact, they will lose money when the debt is cancelled. Why would someone make that loan? God is thinking ahead and sees the thought process and the tendency to keep what we can for ourselves. There’s no enforcement of the law. Either people will do it or they won’t.

Finally, the passage ends by reminding us that there will always be people in need, and we are required to always be generous to the poor and needy. There’s a reason the passage ends with this reminder. God recognizes that humans will have a hard time living up to the ideal of cancelling debts and being generous.

How many of you have debt? (a mortgage, credit card, line of credit, car payments). Many of us live with debt as a part of our life. If you have debt, it can become harder and harder to keep up with the payments. Life happens—people lose their jobs, become ill, or a spouse dies. All sorts of things happen that impact our ability to pay off debt. Imagine the scene when the debts are cancelled…Dancing in the street, big parties. That is an opportunity to sabbath—to rest and enjoy.

Now if you’re like me and a bit cynical, you’ll be starting to see the ways this could be taken advantage of in our culture. People could buy big fancy houses, or expensive cars or take long exotic trips. Then the debt gets cancelled, and they never have to pay up. How is that fair or right?

For some of us, debt allows us to have a home, buy groceries, and pay necessary bills. There are also many in our communities who do not have access to credit. Survival becomes tenuous when costs have risen faster than wages or pensions and there isn’t the wiggle room that credit can allow. It is a sad reflection on our society when debt is almost necessary to meet basic needs.

Debt has become a very real issue in our society. Access to credit has given us the ability to live beyond our means. Access to credit means that people can appear to have more wealth than they actually do and are actually struggling with the debt they owe. This tendency to live big also creates a sense that we always need more. Our value is transferred from who we are to what we have. We need to pause, take that sabbath again, and reflect on what we need versus what we want. These are often not the same thing. As we pause, we need to learn again to find value in who we are rather than what we have.

Even all those years ago when the scriptures were written there was a sense that too much debt, greed and self-interest would not benefit the whole community. We also need to take seriously the ecological impact of what credit allows us to use and consume. As we take our pause, we recognize that our culture and context are different from that of the Hebrew scriptures. However, we still find our grounding in a God whose concern is for the whole community and all creation.

Our faith invites us to consider the economic structure in which we find ourselves. Is this an economic structure that ensures everyone has their basic needs met with dignity and compassion? Is this economic structure sustainable for the earth? Our economists and governments talk about economic growth, but I wonder again if even the economy needs a pause and a rest to reset so we can all move in a more sustainable and compassionate direction.

Even while we work to change policies and practices that harm people and destroy the earth, we need to be generous, with joyful hearts. Sometimes there is tension between changing a system that keeps some people poor and feeding people in need now. We need to do both. Everyone should have a warm place to sleep this winter and enough food to eat. May we be generous with our money, resources, time, talents and energy for the benefit of all God’s creation.