I Samuel 2:1-10; Hebrews 10:16
Deb
and I used to live in West Texas. We loved the people, but the land and weather
wore us out. I think what finally broke us was the year I only mowed the grass
on Memorial and Labor Day. The grass didn’t need cut on Labor Day but I wanted
to empty the gas out of the tank in order to store the lawn mower for the winter.
West Texas defines
barren. It is a 400 mile drive from San Angelo, where we lived, to El Paso.
There are three stops along the way. Big Lake, which has no lake, is occupied
by the 937 meanest folks in West Texas. Ft. Stockton, which has no fort,
survives because it is the only gasoline and fast food stop on Interstate 10
for 200 miles. Van Horn is a uranium
waste dump. Traveling west you can spot Van Horn long after sundown.
Other than those three
towns there is nothing but sand, mesquite, tumble weeds, wind mills and oil
rigs. It is a waste land so barren that despite attempts to irrigate it, none
have proved successful. There appears to be no water, no life, and no hope. To
the naked eye, West Texas is as barren as Hannah, the subject of our Old
Testament text.
In the ancient Hebrew
culture, and unfortunately in some cultures today, a woman’s worth was defined
by her ability to have children. When a public census was taken, the worth of a
family was determined in the following order: the male, any male children,
livestock, adult females, and finally female children. When the adult females
were no longer able to produce children, they were not included in the census.
To be barren was the equivalent of being as desolate as the West Texas desert.
This morning we meet Hannah, a woman who
was barren, but not without hope.
As Ruth played a
crucial role in the birth of David, the boy who would be king, so Hannah played
a critical role in the story of Samuel, the priest who anointed kings. Without
Ruth and Hannah, there could be no David or Samuel. How amazing that God used
an immigrant and a barren woman to bring about the golden age of Jerusalem.
If you don’t know the
story, it is worth hearing. Elkanah had two wives, Peninnah and Hannah.
Peninnah was the mother of multiple children. Hannah had failed to produce a
single off spring. Daily Peninnah threw this in Hannah’s face. You can imagine
the conversation. “Hannah if you were a real woman you would give our husband
at least one child. Oh, that’s right, you can’t have children. So why don’t you
run away or even better just die? What good are you? You are taking the food my
boys need to grow stronger.”
Hannah daily lived
with the humiliation of infertility. I think we all know stories of young
couples who are unable to have children. My daughter underwent test and
procedures valiantly trying to get pregnant. Hannah had no procedures available
to her. All she received was the disgrace and shame of being childless. Even
words of encouragement from her husband fell on deaf ears. In her desperation,
she went to the Temple to pray.
Despite her condition,
Hannah remained a strong and determined woman. As she entered the temple, Eli,
the chief priest, asked if he could be of assistance. Hannah looked at him and
must have sarcastically thought, “Just what I need, another man.” By coming to
the Temple she sought the only entity that could address her problem.
Hannah prayed. At
first she prayed silently. Then she began to groan as her prayer erupted from a
place of utter vulnerability. Her prayers were so intense that Eli thought
Hannah had been drinking. How could he understand her plight? Hannah had come because
of her loneliness. Hannah had come because of her despair. But Hannah also came
as a person of great faith. She knew God to be full of grace, full of
compassion and full of life. She came to the Temple because she had the
audacity to believe that God is able to create life out of chaos.
There is a song the
first service choir sings that brings me to tears every time I hear it. The
words are:
Write
your blessed name, O Lord, upon my heart.
There
to remain, indelibly engraved;
That
no prosperity, no adversity shall ever,
Ever
move me from your love.
The words come from
the 16th century poet Thomas a Kempis, who took them from the tenth
chapter of Hebrews:
This
is the covenant I will make with them. I will put my love in their hearts, and
I will write my law on their minds.
Hannah had written
upon her heart that nothing could separate her from God’s love for life. The old patterns, the ancient laws that
derided and eradicated those deemed unworthy begged to be transformed through
an invitation to the God who will not be limited by our vision. So she prayed,
or perhaps she sang, with a faith that would not be confined by the social
structure of her day. She prayed, or perhaps she sang, with God’s name engraved
upon her heart.
Faith is something
that cannot be rationally explained. Every generation believes it has more
knowledge than the last and perhaps this is true. I remember watching Star Trek
as a kid and was amazed that Captain Kirk could flip open a small hand held
device and communicate with Spock who was hundreds of miles away. Because of
the intelligence of our generation, our communication devices rival Captain
Kirk’s and our personal computers are something Spock would love to get his
hands on. We are a brilliant generation, but we are no more equipped to
understand faith than we were a thousand years ago. If anything, our dependence
on rational thought has made faith somewhat obsolete. In the minds of many,
prayer is seen as an act of the desperate and faith has become the crutch of the
naïve. That said, may I remind you, despite all attempts by our greatest minds
to bring water to West Texas, it remains barren……..until the second or third
week of March, when for no rational reasons, the desert blooms. Bluebonnets and
Mexican Hats dominate the wasteland reminding anyone with eyes to see that
grace exists despite the evidence to believe otherwise.
Hannah wanted to
bloom. Hannah wanted to erase the barrenness of her womb. Despite the evidence,
Hannah knew, God willing, life could be brought into her desert. And so she
prayed, and then she bargained, and finally she went home. Nine months later Samuel
was born, and Hannah broke into song.
I Samuel 2 is one of those
great poems of the Old Testament which ought to be written on our hearts. It celebrates
the power and faithfulness of God. Hannah sings even when the human imagination
is exhausted. Hannah sings because she believes that nothing is beyond the
power of God. Barrenness is redeemed. Death is left humiliated. Life in the
form of a child is resurrected.
I cannot imagine any
mother not giving thanks at the miracle of birth. I have heard there are no
atheists in foxholes. The same might be said of the birthing room. This daring
and dangerous song of Hannah transcends any simple lullaby. Listen to the
words.
God lifts the lowly. God raises up the needy. God
gives life to the barren. God
restores the feeble with strength.
Walter Brueggeman
writes, “Yahweh’s cosmic power is mobilized for the socially marginal. No
wonder Hannah sings. The hope of the weak is rooted in the power of God which holds
the world together. No wonder every Jewish mother joins Hannah in this song.
Yahweh is the only one with power who is attentive to the plight of the poor,
the needy, the hungry, the ignored, and the barren.”
Tradition suggests
that every Jewish mother since Hannah has prayed this song upon discovering she
is with child. I am sure that is terribly overstated. But then, it is recorded
in the Book of Luke that a young girl, on learning that she is pregnant, sings
her own version of Hannah’ song. Listen to Mary’s words.
My
soul magnifies the Lord, for God has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
God will scatter the proud and bring down the powerful. God will lift up the
lowly and fill the hungry with good things. God will remember the promise made
to Abraham and to David and to Hannah.
There
is life in the desert.
There is hope for this world.
We
might not find it in the shenanigans
Of those who would be king.
We
certainly won’t find it among those
With malice in their hearts.
But
if we look,
With our hearts rather than our eyes,
If
we look,
Believing in what other’s disparage as
foolishness,
If
we look,
Not for power as the world defines it,
But
power as God ordains it,
The
Bluebonnets will bloom,
The Mexican Hats will dance,
And the barren will experience
The joy
of
unexpected life.
To
God be the glory, Amen.
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