Ordinary Means

1 Samuel 1.4-20

Page 1
As the book of 1 Samuel opens, Israel is in a state of turmoil. They felt vulnerable to their neighbor nations and they felt as though they were without direction because they had no central leader.

In the time of Moses, the Israelites had been led directly. God had spoken to Moses and Moses had spoken to the people on God’s behalf. When Moses died the Levites, the priestly family of ancient Israel, were given the leadership role. But in their time wandering in the wilderness, the Israelites had seen how other nations were run. Other nations had royal figureheads who were the leaders of their nations. Their monarchs made decisions and did not have to wait for the priests to guide them.

The Israelites balked at the way things were done in Israel and asked for different leadership. God gave them the judges. During the time of the Judges the country was led by God, and wise people were established in the nation to discern God’s leading. They were not prophets – people sent to convey a single message to the nation. The judges led the people out of their wisdom and as ongoing vectors of God’s word.

During the time of the Judges, the nation sunk further into chaos. Neighboring countries were pressing in upon them. There was famine, which sent Naomi and her husband and her sons to Moab in search of sustenance. The nation had become figuratively fractured as the people united behind various judges and the nation had become literally fractured as they spread out across many lands in search of sustenance.

Pressed by the threat of other nations, the people of Israel felt that they needed a single person, a monarch, upon whom they could rely and to whom they could point when confronted by other nations. So, the book of 1 Samuel opens with Hannah vexed by her barrenness like Israel has been vexed by famine. And Hannah is vexed by her rival Peninah who has had many sons and daughters and who is made confident by her the security of her sons like Israel has been vexed by its neighbor nations who have kings and are made confident by the security of their monarchy.

For Hannah, no child meant no future. So she mourned the loss of her future. She was bereft and would not eat. The nation of Israel was floundering. It no longer flourished, no longer could it see a future for itself that was secure. It fell into a state of disrepair and chaos.

Page 2
Modern life can feel much the same as life in ancient Israel. It seems as though the world, with its problems, is swirling around us. The war continues in Iraq. Iraqi civilians, US soldiers, and Iraqi military continue to die. And the prospect of Iraq being a peaceful, self-sufficient country is unimaginable in the short-term and difficult to conceive of in the long-term

In Sudan, over a million people have died of starvation while the Janjaweed Rebels prevent aid workers from delivering food that sits waiting for the millions of displaced people in the Darfur Region.

Over a year after hurricanes Katrina and Rita made landfall and ravished the southern US, the landscape is still torn asunder. The United States citizens who were residents of those coastal cities hardest hit are still displaced. Those who have returned are in need of physical, financial, and psychological aid to help them cope with the wreckage of their lives. Our world is in a state of disrepair and chaos.

Like Hannah, our personal lives are no different. Work is overwhelming. Life is busy and always changing. We think if only we could catch our breath we could keep up with the torrent of activities that fill our calendars, but breaks are few and far between. Life continues to move around us in a chaotic swirl.
Because of the pain in the world, because of past hurts and current woes, we weep with Hannah, and our hearts are sad.

Page 3
Shiloh was where the Ark of the Covenant resided, at that time in Israel’s history. Elkanah and Hannah and the rest of his family had gone there to offer their annual worship and sacrifices. The Temple in Shiloh was the place where God dwelt among the people, so the people would pilgrimage there to be close to God. They spent several days and nights in the city, worshipping and praying, before returning home.

Hannah got up early and went to the temple and “presented herself before the Lord” (v9). Hannah, having decided to relinquish her pain to God, having decided to relinquish herself and her future to God, got up early and went to the Temple in Shiloh.

She went and offered prayers. These were not the formal prayers of the annual sacrifice offered by the priest on behalf of the family. She offered petitions so personal that she did not even stir the priest, Eli. She offered her prayers directly to the Lord. In the Temple she worshipped the God of Israel, the faithful God who made the covenant with Noah and his family and gave the rainbow as a sign. Hannah prayed to the God who had kept the covenant with Israel even when the Israelites wandered in their disobedience through the wilderness.

To this God, Hannah lifted her prayers without fanfare and handed over her pain. She let go of the vexation she felt from the ridicule she had faced. She gave to God her pain and frustration at not being able to answer her calling. She prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly as she handed over her distress over her future. Even despite the condescension of the priest, Eli, Hannah continued to faithfully pray, with confidence, to the God worthy of her faith.

When she had prayed, when the priest Eli had finally understood her and given her a benediction, Hannah returned to her “quarters, ate and drank with her husband, and her countenance was sad no longer” (v18). Through her worship, Hannah was transformed from sadness to hope. She had confidence in the Lord that the God of mercy would sustain her. She hoped in the compassionate God who is worthy of her faith.

Indeed, Hannah bore a son who was Samuel a prophet of the Lord. Samuel, the son of an ordinary woman with extraordinary faith, would be the one to lead Israel from a time of chaos and despair into the time of Kings and the anointed one, David.

Page 4
The God who brought blessing upon Hannah is at work in your life as well. The God who made the covenant with Noah, the God who led the Israelites, the God who heard Hannah and responded to her faithful prayer is the God who has willed “that we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ, once for all” (Heb 10.10).

The God who was able to transform Hannah’s life and the history of Israel with the unexpected birth of a child, the God who transformed creation with the birth of Jesus, can transform our world today. Our God can transform our countenance from sadness to gladness. God can transform the countenance of the world from war to peace.

Like Hannah, we must open ourselves to God’s blessing, allow ourselves to be vessels of God’s will in the world, accepting the benediction of God’s Spirit upon us and working toward the Kingdom yet to Come through our actions and prayers.

The story of the barren Hannah made fertile is the story of a active faith lived out even in the face of adversity. And it is the story of our faithful God, who is worthy of our faith. God, in whom Hannah was confident and faithful, is worthy also of our confidence and faith.

The Present

Mark 12.38-44

When the old woman came to the Temple, she had nothing…well, next to nothing anyway. Her family was gone. Her husband had died before her, which was like a death sentence. She had to continue living without him, and she had to live without the protection of his house, of his money, and of his presence. She could not own a house to live in or land to cultivate. Since he died, her body had grown thin. Often she walked among the harvested fields to glean the last few grains of wheat that had been overlooked or to find the last olives fallen from the trees. The woman was industrious over a fire, making even meager ingredients palatable.

All of the energy she had, what energy she had left, went toward subsistence. She washed clothes for the people who had been her neighbors, carrying their heavy loads down to the river to beat the soiled cloth on rocks until they shown bright again in the sun. She hung them out to dry and hoped that wind would not kick up sand onto the damp clothes so that she would have to wash them again. For a day’s work, the woman could expect two or three small coins – one sixty-fourth of what a day laborer could expect, but not too shabby for an old woman. Today there were fewer clothes, so she had gotten two coins.

She held the coins tightly in the palm of her hand with her four fingers curled around them and her thumb closed over the top like a lock. They were precious coins to her, too precious to trust in her threadbare pockets. The coins were like treasure to her.

In the coins the woman saw so much more than the copper that had been dulled to brown from the oil and dirt of the many hands that touched it. The woman saw past the face of the Emperor Tiberius, which had been stamped into the coin when its surface was still wet and shiny with heat. In the coins she saw potential, the possibility of what was to come.

She could put her two coins from today with two from tomorrow and over the course of some days or weeks she could buy herself a sack of flour so that she would not have to glean her meals from the farmers’ fields or from her neighbors’ generosity. But she had no permanent residence for herself and so no storehouse. The Lord had provided for her thus far, and she had no reason to think that the Lord would not continue to provide.

With the distinct shuffle of her uneven gate and the one hand clasped securely around the coins held tightly to her side, the Widow made her way across town, navigating the hustle and bustle of the streets as shop keepers made the transition from day to night rolling up their mats of wares and gathering their things to carry home for the evening. The children who had played in the streets with gusto all day seemed to be drained of their energy as the sun made its way behind the horizon. The woman, too, was tired. She mused to herself that she would like to be picked up and carried like a little child in its mother’s arms. Still she walked on.

As she drew closer to the Temple, the sounds of gaiety rose up above the din of the street and grew more distinct. Each night she marveled as she moved from the grey and brown dinge of the streets into the prism spectrum of colors in the Temple. The Temple attendants wore robes that shone bright in the candlelight. She enjoyed the color in comparison to her own drab attire. The woman was ashamed to admit even to herself that sometimes, when she saw the offerings of doves or meat upon the altar, that her stomach growled and mouth watered a little.

The woman walked past the festivities of the Scribes, with their bright robes and loud prayers and lively songs. Even though her clothes did not compare and she did not consider herself eloquent enough to offer such prayers and she scouldcouldn’t carry a tune, still the old woman made her way confidently, with her shuffle and uneven gate, across the Temple to the Treasury.

When she reached the Treasury, the woman stood still for a moment to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell less and less until is relaxed into an easy rhythm. When her breath had slowed, she lifted up her one hand and slowly threw back her thumb. Gradually she unfurled her fingers from her palm to reveal to two, tiny, dingey pieces of copper. She reached into her open palm with her other hand and grasped the two coins together between her thumb and index finger. As she rubbed them gently together, they produced a light, metallic sound that pleased her. With an air of gratitude, she extended her hand, as she had so many nights before, and dropped the twin coins together into the treasury. When the coins had been welcomed to the bottom by the others with a small clink, she turned to go.

The next thing I imagine is like a supermarket celebrating their one millionth customer. I imagine bells and balloons falling from the ceiling and Jesus jumping up to clap the woman on her back and shake her hand and celebrate her great gift to the Temple of all she had. But no bells went off and no balloons dropped. This trip to the Temple was not unique. It did not stand out to the woman as different from any other. Six nights out of seven, the woman brought her coins to the temple. Her gift went without remark or recognition. She expected and needed none. Her gift was not made for recognition, but out of recognition.

By dropping her two coins in the treasury, the woman acknowledged God’s generosity. She gave thanks for the grains that were left on the stalks for her to glean and the olives fallen to the ground. With her two coins she offered thanks to God for her body, which was still able to work and for the opportunity to serve her neighbors. She made the offering of all that she had to God in recognition that she had been scooped up by God like a small child comforted and protected in a mother’s arms.

The woman made her arduous nightly trip to the Temple to drop her coins in the treasury as an act of thanksgiving to God and sign of her faith. Through her faith and confidence in God, the Widow was contributing in the present hope of what is to come.

Daily she lived her life in the present with hope for an age to come when all would be given their daily bread and forgiveness and would live together in harmony.

She did what the Scribes could not do, she saw past the trappings of today, past storehouses of grain and fancy robes to the Kingdom that is to come. She responded to God’s grace in her life with wholehearted self-giving that transcended dollars and cents. Unlike the rich young man we met a few weeks back, who was told to sell all that he had and give it to the poor and follow Jesus, who turned his back and ran from the Kingdom; the poor old woman gave all that she had and daily continued her walk toward the Kingdom. With the distinct shuffle of her uneven gate and her hands open and swinging by her side, the woman walked boldly forward into the Kingdom to come.

The Widow and her pittance are not an object less included in the books of Mark and Matthew by ancient stewardship chair-people. Rather, it is a story of lifestyle preferences. Will we choose to rely on ourselves or will be offer ourselves to God?

When we give our Time, Talent, and Tithe, we are not giving a simple gift. It is not merely a contribution out of our abundance.

When we give we are responding to God’s generosity to us in Jesus Christ and acting in faith that the Kingdom will come.

When we give ourselves to Christ’s body, it is an answer to our calling to be God’s people, to be in community with one another, to be interconnected and interdependent.

When we give ourselves to Christ’s body, it is an act of faith in the generous grace of our loving, saving God.

Your People Shall Be My People

Ruth 1.1-18

Ethnicity was a big deal back in the days of Ruth. I’m sure you can’t imagine it now, that one’s ethnicity could determine the whole course of a person’s life, but in Ruth’s day, that’s how things were.

Ruth was born a Moabite. She grew up with the customs of Moab. It wasn’t something she thought about, it just was. Ruth had no concept of the mores of the Moabites until the Jews suffered a famine and began to move into Moab. Then she became aware of the differences between them and herself and her people by extension.

When she was a child she learned about the gods of the Moabites and how they were worshipped. The Moabites had many gods. There was a god who cared for them and watched over them on a daily basis. There was a god who created the world and made sure it continued to function. There was a god that protected them when they were in danger. For each activity of life, the Moabites had a god to watch over them. The Jews had only one God, and that God seemed to do it all.

The Jews also had customs that seemed odd to Ruth. At the end of the week, the Jews stopped everything that they did and just sat around their houses. They would say prayers to God and they would rest. That was all they did and they called it Sabbath. The Moabites worked every minute they could. Ruth observed that they weren’t lazy like the others and they didn’t stop to pray. The differences were all very odd to Ruth, but she took heart that she did not need to understand the Jews, she did not need to learn their customs. Ethnicity was acquired at birth and Moab had no naturalization process, no green cards. Ruth figured she was a Moabite from the day she was born and would be a Moabite until the day she died.

The family of Elimelech moved into Ruth’s neighborhood when she was still a child. Her mother told her that they were Jews who had fled the famine and had decided to reside among the people of Ruth’s town. Not long after their move, the head of the household, Elimelech died. That left his wife Naomi and her two sons. Some in Ruth’s neighborhood had thought that they might return to Judah, but they continued to live among the Moabites.

After the family of Elimelech had lived among the Moabites for some years, conversations were had and negotiations were made and Ruth and her friend Orpah were married to the sons of Elimelech, Mahlon and Chilion. Even in marriage Ruth did not feel like she needed to change her ways. The thought never even occurred to her because change was impossible. One could not change one’s ethnicity any more than one could permanently change eye color or hair color. Ruth intended to teach her children about the Moabite gods and about Moabite customs. But there were no children to teach because, after the family of Elimelech had lived in Moab ten years, Mahlon and Chilion also died.

In a time and place were independence was of no value, where independence meant starvation and death, Ruth and Orpah’s new family had disintegrated and they were left with no protection, no safety . There was no social welfare system, no opportunity to work, no universal health care, no Section 8 housing, no food stamps or Maryland Food Bank or Paul’s Place. There was no one to care for them and they were unable to care for themselves because of the social system. Their father-in-law, who had become their father and protector in marriage, was gone. Their husbands, who had been their safety and livelihood, were gone. They were left with a widow of a mother-in-law and one another. They were three women – without power or claim in the world. They were like flotsam tossed about in the river of life’s circumstance. They had no control. They had been controlled by the men in their lives and, in the absence of men, they could conceive of nothing.

Ruth and Orpah, at least, were young. They could return to their fathers’ houses – to the protection and care of their childhood, eventually to remarry. But Naomi had no protection. With no male relatives alive she was a non-person, a non-entity, for whom no one was obligated to care. Awash in despair, Naomi turned to her last resort and decided to return to Judah in search of some distant relative, some distant family connection, to care for her.

Naomi was practical and realistic. She knew that her fate was likely death – due to starvation or exposure to the elements or some form of neglect. She did not want that for her daughters-in-law. She told them to return to their families, to find refuge in their fathers’ houses. As they walked toward Bethlehem, Naomi insisted that Ruth and Orpah turn back. Like a persuasive prosecutor she laid out her argument that there was no future for them with her, that there were no more sons to be their husbands that their most secure option was to be with their fathers.

Finally they stopped. The two young women had heard Naomi’s arguments. Tears of despair filled the eyes of all three women and they wept together. Then Orpah kissed her mother-in-law and turned back to her father’s house. But Ruth turned to Naomi and clung to her. No longer did she view Naomi as other, as different, as foreign. Instead, Ruth viewed Naomi with the rule of love. Instead, she saw the two as one. “Your people shall be my people,” she told her mother-in-law.

In a time before conversion was possible, one could not change one’s born ethnicity, in a time when faith was a way of life rather than a choice, in a time before anyone was born again, Ruth adopted a new people, a new ethnic identity, and a new faith. Had she turned back to her father’s house, Ruth would have been guaranteed her safety, she would have been cared for, but, in the name of love, she forsook an easy life to go with and care for her neighbor Naomi.

When we gather around the table, like Ruth, we are proclaiming and live out the greatest commandment - that love of neighbor is an act of loving God and an act in response to God’s love. Around the table we are embodying the belief that there is no other God but God. That there is one God to whom we offer praise. That there is one God who has given us all that we have, even the Son Jesus Christ so that our sins would be forgiven and we might have life eternal.

Around the table we are embodying and practicing the love of neighbor. We are boldly proclaiming that we are one people. We are God’s people. Around the table there is no ethnicity and no division, there are no politics and no divergent theology, around this table we are one, for it is not the table of the Moabites or the Jews. It is God’s table.

And all who believe in God may find their safety, their protection, their welcome around the table in God’s love and the presence God’s community.