Psalm 69:7-8; Genesis 21:8-21
Have we become numb to
pain? That is an awful, perhaps unfair question to ask. How can one become
deadened to the pain of another? I have an infant grandchild who resides in
Christiansburg. If Molly Jane cries, I
swear I can hear her. It doesn’t matter she lives over two hour away.
Grandparents gradually lose their hearing to everything but the cry of a child.
The problem is, not every child is mine.
When is the last time
you heard the cry of a Syrian child? That also is an unfair question. Everyone here
grieves over the deplorable situation we find in the Middle East. But how can
we be expected to know each child’s name. Tomorrow there is another incident.
Next week more children will be killed. Eventually, we become numb to the news,
and the tragedies, that reveal the pain of another.
In all fairness, we
can only be expected to take so much. Our helplessness to respond compels us to
turn off the news or retreat to the sport’s page. Our live are filled with enough
drama. Why must we be dragged into conflicts no one will ever resolve?
Psalm 69 might have
been a lament written for those who suffer and feel they are seldom heard. It
begins with the classic words, “Help me, O God, for the waters have come up to
my neck.” A couple of years ago Amelia and Jane invited me to Kayak down the
Rockfish River. After spending the entire summer paddling in Lake Monacan, I
felt I was more than up to the task. I
was wrong. The Rockfish is not a fast or dangerous river, unless you don’t have
a clue what you are doing. At the first sign of a ripple I flipped the boat.
They gave excellent instructions, most of which were wasted on me. The harder I
tried, the worse I got. Thankfully we were coming to the end of the day. But
before we could pull the boats out of the water one last rapid had to be
negotiated. Amelia instructing me to do exactly what she was going to do and I
would be fine. She went into the rapids, made two very smart turns and popped
out on the other side unharmed. I followed her line, immediately panicked, and
found myself in the water pinned against a rock. With one hand I held on to the
kayak, somehow thinking the boat was my only salvation. To quote the Psalms, “I
could not find a foothold and the waters were sweeping over my head.” I grew
weary clinging to both the rock and the boat. Then I heard the voice of Jane
screaming, “Let go of the boat.” I thought to myself, she must be crazy. But since
my arms were aching beyond belief I really had no choice. I let go of the boat and
it floated to safety. Then she hollered, “Let go of the rock.” (stop)
I had not known Jane
and Amelia for very long. Actually the purpose of the trip was to get to know these
fine church members a little bit better. But now, as I am being flattened by
rushing water, the only advice my alleged friend can render is, jump into the
chaos. I would have written my last will and testimony but I didn’t have pen or
paper. So I said a prayer, let go, and like the boat, floated to safety.
In the midst of my
tragedy, two folks took the time to navigate me home. How often does that
happen in today’s world? Usually we are spending all our time navigating through
our own chaos. It is so much easier to
look away, especially when we don’t know the other person’s name? Sometimes,
even name recognition is not enough.
“Call me Ishmael.” That
quote is not from the book of Genesis but rather America’s greatest novel. Melville
did not pick the name because of how it sounded. Melville knew the story of Abraham’s
first son, a child thrown into the wilderness, surviving only because of the
mercy of God. As much as we celebrate the faith of Abraham and Sarah, this incident
exposes their inhumanity.
Abraham got tired of
waiting for a child. Hagar, an Egyptian handmaiden was offered as a substitute
for the barrenness of Sarah. Hager gives birth and the child is named Ishmael,
which means “God hears”. Abraham
believes the wishes of God had been fulfilled. A son is born, the nation
building will begin. But this wasn’t God’s
plan. Sarah becomes pregnant and gives birth to Isaac.
Abraham’s loyalty is
to the second son, but Ishmael cannot be ignored. He is not adopted. He is the
first born of a man given a promise. The birthright should belong to Ishmael but
the younger child belongs to Sarah. The child with rights is forgotten. The child
who evokes laughter is celebrated. The “other” son of Abraham is forever known
as the son of an Egyptian slave. He and his mother are expelled from the family
of Abraham. But are Hagar and Ishmael expelled from the family of God?
In the fourth chapter
of Galatians, Paul grapples with this question. The Apostle asked, “Are we bond
by love or law.” Certainly the law is created to protect us but Paul wants to
make the distinction that the law can also enslave us. He moves to the example
of Ishmael and Isaac. Ishmael was born of a slave and will forever be bound to
enslavement by the law. Isaac was born of love and will forever be a child of
freedom. Then Paul takes a bizarre hermeneutical leap. He writes, “God drove
the slave and her child into the wilderness, so Ishmael would not share the
inheritance with the child of a free woman. Therefore do not submit yourself to
the yoke of the law but live by grace.”
Are you kidding me? If
Paul had made that leap in any Presbyterian Seminary he would have
flunked. But it gets worse. Using the
same logic, Augustine, Luther, and many modern theologians I really don’t care
to read have carefully distinguished between those who are treasured and those
considered “The Others”. You see what this does? It pre-determines in the minds
of “the blest” there are the children of
God and the children we don’t have to worry about.
On one of my trips to
Guatemala I had an interesting conversation with a tour guide at the Museum of
Guatemalan History. She asked where I would be taking our fine group of
Presbyterians. I told her we were going into the mountains to work with Mayan
families. She scoffed and said, “Why waste your time. They are not Christian.”
What a wonderful
excuse to keep us from caring. For 2,000 years folks have turned to the book of
Galatians to exclude anyone who does not live up to the standards set by
Abraham. But are those the standards by which we are called to live. True, Abraham
was told by God to send Hagar and Ishmael away. When they ran out of food God
appeared with bread and water. And then these words were uttered. “I will make
a great nation of Ishmael. The God remained with him and Ishmael married a wife
from Egypt.”
Where in the story
does it say God loved the descendents of Isaac more than God loved the
descendents of Ishmael? What I read is God will not limited by old age, by
barrenness, by slavery or by rejection. God is always in the business of
creating something new and God expects us to be more than just witnesses. God demands
we care.
We hear so many
stories of folks ignoring the crisis of others because of who they are or
because we predetermine the troubles were of their own making. Jane and Amelia
did not have to help me out of the rapids. I got in trouble all by myself. But
they risked their safety by showing me the way out of danger. Jane and Amelia
believe we are not called to act like Abraham. We are called to act like God.
That takes us beyond our needs, our desires, and even our pain. Perhaps it is
too much to expect us to rescue all the children of Syria. But why we can speak
out on behalf of the children of Nelson County? Do you know the children in
Lovingston don’t have a safe park where they can play? Yet our county received
over a million dollars to create a passing lane for 18 wheelers on Route 151.
Is commerce more important than the children living on the other side of the
county? You don’t have to go very far to witness the pain of “the others”
living near us. Maybe we should listen a little more carefully. Maybe we should
get to know their names. They all go by one surname; Child of God. Amen
