My Mind Kept Racing Back To The Bible
Preaching
Retelling The Story
Creatively Developing Biblical Story Sermons
Object:
Hermeneutical Concerns With Creative Ways Of Retelling Biblical Stories
When you're adding dialogue, characters, or events not in the biblical text, there's always a chance that your listeners/viewers with more literalist views of the Bible will find this an objectionable and dangerous distortion of the scriptures. Once a woman wrote to admonish me about one of my sermons, because she heard me say the star the Magi followed was a meteorite. (I actually said the narrator of the story may have been referring to a comet.1) Her admonishment was grounded in her understanding of the warning in the book of Revelation not to add to or subtract anything from John's prophecy: "I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this book; if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away that person's share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book" (Revelation 21:18-19). Thank goodness this warning only refers to the book of Revelation -- although I had better watch out next time I preach on it! Her admonishment, interestingly enough, was also based on "the scientific fact" presented to her at a local planetarium that some sort of astronomical event did indeed occur on Jesus' birthday, an astronomical event that led the Magi to Bethlehem. How ready we are to acknowledge the truth of the claims of science! Despite the fact that I know of no biblical scholar rash enough to claim that he or she knows exactly when Jesus was born, the woman who admonished me assumes that astronomers know! If you insist on adding things to the scriptures, the more folks who have in your congregation who interpret the scriptures literally, the more chance there is that you may one day be admonished about this aspect of your preaching.
One Bad Apple Does Spoil The Whole Bunch
One bit of poetic license can damage a preacher's credibility permanently. For one of my project sermons, I retold a biblical story that I had meticulously based on the chronology presented by the book of Nehemiah. Despite my careful retelling of this biblical story, one of the group members reported that her mind was "constantly racing back to the Bible." She was, in other words, constantly wondering whether or not I was being faithful to the text. I later learned that her suspicion was generated by the dramatic monologue sermon on Peter accompanying chapter 2. After that sermon, she asked extremely pointed questions about my portrayal of Peter. Where she had always assumed that Peter had followed Jesus because God had miraculously changed Peter from a fisherman to a disciple, I articulated the interpretation that Peter followed Jesus, because Peter not so miraculously thought Jesus could help him pursue an upwardly mobile path. Those committed to literal or traditional interpretations may be troubled by anything that appears to disrupt their preconceived scriptural notions. Such concerns, in my experience, are not limited to one sermon, but spill over into sermons that are completely uncontroversial.
The crux of this problem with preaching by retelling biblical stories is a hermeneutical one. Do most of your listeners/viewers understand the Bible as a proof book full of proof texts to live by and full of accounts whose historicity is divinely guaranteed? Or do your listeners/viewers understand the Bible similarly to the way Walter Brueggemann understands it: "We are not asking what happened, but what is said. To inquire into the historicity of the text is a legitimate enterprise, but it does not ... belong to the work of Old Testament theology. In like manner, we bracket out all questions of ontology which ask about the 'really real.' It may well be ... that there is no historicity to Israel's faith claim ... we have ... few tools for recovering what happened and even fewer for recovering 'what is' ... those issues must be held in abeyance, pending the credibility and persuasiveness of Israel's testimony on which everything depends"2 (emphasis mine). Here Brueggemann describes the Old Testament as a book of testimony of witnesses the truth of which is not proven, but that calls for our trust. When Brueggemann writes about the whole Bible, he characterizes its entire text as a reliable witness to "prophetic construals of another world," an "evangelical world: an existence shaped by the news of the gospel."3 As it is in the Bible, so Brueggemann thinks it should be in the pulpit: "The poetic speech of text and of sermon is a prophetic construal of a world beyond the one taken for granted4 (emphasis mine). It is, Brueggemann argues, a kind of "fiction." He continues: "The notion of fiction, however, is not so precarious or easily dismissed as we might imagine. It is precisely the daring work of fiction to probe beyond settled truth and to walk the edge of alternatives not yet available to us."5
The Greatest Fish Story Ever Told
This is a marvelous framework for understanding a story like Jonah. Readers of Jonah could concern themselves with the question about whether or not humans can live in the stomach of a fish. Or one could read Jonah as a "prophetic construal of a world beyond the one taken for granted" by Jonah's hearers/readers, who apparently didn't think God was concerned about people of other nations. One could read Jonah as a fabrication of the truth that God does care about other nations and that the people of other nations and the fish in the seas and even the cows in Nineveh are considerably more obedient than the prophets of Israel! Among listeners/viewers with a hermeneutical orientation similar to Brueg-gemann, there may be less anxiety about adding things to the text in order to retell its stories. Those for whom the Bible is a historically accurate proof-book, however, will never be quite comfortable altering the text at all and therefore will never be quite comfortable with the practice of preaching by retelling biblical stories as I have described it here. If that's ninety percent of your congregation and you are committed to mastering this practice, it's probably time to start packing. It will do no good to goad such people for their "out-dated" biblical views by persistently preaching sermons that retell biblical stories.
To tell the truth, preaching a preponderance of sermons that retell biblical stories is a temptation for me, because for me, it's such an engaging and exciting way to preach. However, too much of any form of preaching gets predictable. Remember what the movie critics Siskel and Ebert used to say about being predictable! Preaching sermons as true stories from real-life incidents will be a refreshing alternative for those in the pew who fret about the poetic license involved in preaching by retelling biblical stories.
I have found that the vast majority of people in the congregations I have served (large and small, rural and urban) do not have such well-defined hermeneutical scruples of any kind that they're compelled to carp about my poetic licentiousness. Finally, demonstrating that you are "doing your job," that you are genuinely engaged in the pastoral tasks that confront you and the congregation, goes a long way in encouraging congregations to tolerate many sorts of homiletical experiments and inadequacies.6 Practically every fan of one fiercely loved pastor I once knew readily admitted to me that their beloved pastor was one of the worst preachers they'd ever heard!
Were You There?
Another way of preaching by retelling or dramatizing a biblical story advocated by some prominent homileticians is retelling the biblical story as if the listeners/viewers were really there. Henry Mitchell describes this method in his book, Celebration in Experience and Preaching: "In my book, Black Preaching, I insisted that all narratives from the Bible ought to be told as if one had seen them. It makes no sense to expect the hearer to see the manger or the cross if the one who is preaching hasn't seen it...."7 The purpose of this method is to "bring the hearer aboard, or into the experiential encounter" and is accomplished when "the preacher has already identified with the material and recounts it in an eyewitness mode." According to Mitchell, "often ... details were originally condensed out of the Bible account because of the familiarity with details that was assumed to prevail commonly among hearers of the oral tradition." These details can be found in "the biblical record" and "from study of commentaries and encyclopedias." Details must be "coupled with inspired imagination." Or to describe the process another way: "Our providing details is like putting the common substance called water back into the powdered milk. They are not the very same water or details that were removed, but they are so similar that the result is a very accurate portrayal."8
I certainly agree with the importance Mitchell places on knowing biblical characters as if "one grew up on the same block" with them. His description of "providing details" that were "condensed out" of biblical accounts, because they were "assumed to prevail commonly among hearers of the oral tradition" sounds a great deal like my project of fabricating the truth. My only concern with what Mitchell says is about retelling biblical stories in "an eyewitness mode." When I hear preachers tell biblical stories in "an eyewitness mode," I immediately feel as though the veracity of the message is contingent upon the believing the historicity of the story. The preacher appears to be telling me that Jesus really is God only because the miracles he did really did happen as they are being presented. The preacher is telling me the miracles are proof of the existence of God, of the divinity of Jesus. I don't believe that about the scriptures at all. If the historical Jesus did do miracles, it's as plausible to think of them being a function of his humanness as it is to imagine they are proof of his divinity. There have been countless healers or shamans in many, many cultures throughout the ages. In this Jesus is not unique at all. Believing that Jesus did miracles does not "save" us. Causing listeners/viewers to feel truth is dependent upon the historicity of biblical stories is as problematic for Christians who are comfortable with less literal approaches to the Bible as poetic license is for Christians who are loyal to literalist or traditional understandings of the Bible.
Between Scylla And Charybdis
In his book, Plurality and Ambiguity, David Tracy describes a phenomenon common to the context of listening to discourse he calls creating "victims of discourse." Discourse that explicitly assumes the historicity of scripture causes those with other assumptions to feel marginalized and even attacked.9 Discourse that explicitly denies the historicity of scripture causes those with other assumptions to feel marginalized and even attacked. The point of the gospel is to gather and unite people, not to separate people on the basis of a particular hermeneutical understanding of scriptures. The trick is, therefore, to retell a biblical story so that both points of view concerning the historicity of scriptures are possible. If fabricating the truth is Scylla and making truth contingent on historicity is Charybdis, we need to bring our listeners/viewers safely through these straits without veering too closely to either danger. I am at present content to continue to sail close to the six-headed monster Scylla. Perhaps telling some good stories accompanied by some enchanting music will tame her. (It worked for Harry Potter and friends on a three-headed dog in The Sorcerer's Stone!) The truth is, not many people are particularly self-conscious about their hermeneutical principles. As part of the design of the Doctor of Ministry program I completed, I listened carefully to preaching groups, individuals, even whole congregations, and I rarely heard hermeneutical concerns about adding things to biblical stories, even from those who take the historicity of scriptures very seriously. Those who don't have literalist views of the historicity of scriptures, on the other hand, are more likely to be more conscious of their hermeneutical principles, because they have had to change them and define them from the more literal view of scriptures we all develop as children.10 Making the truth contingent upon historicity is, therefore, more likely to be perceived. When it is perceived, it's my experience that it calls attention to itself; it's distracting; it's not persuasive at all. Making the truth contingent upon historicity is, therefore, the more problematic approach.
Finally, retelling biblical stories as if they really happened as they are written flies in the face of the diversity of versions of biblical stories. It assumes a standard of historicity for the Bible that was not known among biblical writers.11
"Blessed Are Those Who Have Not Seen And Yet Believe ..."
The second project sermon I did during my second year of my Doctor of Ministry studies was about Elijah's visit to the widow of Zarephath. This story concludes with a miracle: Elijah raises the widow's son from death (1 Kings 17:8-16). I include this sermon here as an example of trying to retell a biblical miracle story without creating "victims of discourse" among those holding either point of view concerning the historicity of scriptures. Rather than focusing the listeners/viewers' attention on the historicity of this miracle and making that miracle a prerequisite to believing a truth in the story, I didn't show Elijah raising the boy from the dead. Instead, the sermon ends with a knock on the widow's door and the widow hurrying toward the door, hoping, believing, and trusting that it is Elijah behind the door and hoping, believing, and trusting that Elijah's God might be able to continue to provide the possibility of life for her. Neither she nor the listeners/viewers have any proof that it's Elijah who is knocking at the door. Neither does she nor the listeners/viewers have any proof that Elijah's God would continue to help her. Like the widow, listeners/viewers are left with a picture of faith and hope: faith and hope is like running toward a God you can't see.
A member of my preaching group asked me why I didn't show the miracle of Elijah raising the widow's son, and why I ended the sermon with a knock on the door. In my answer I quoted the relatively well-known words from scripture below that were also part of the sermon: "In hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience" (Romans 8:24-25). The knocking on the door was the hope you can't see, and [the widow of Zarephath] ran toward it. We [the person playing the part of the widow and myself] thought that it was enough to indicate that she had embraced [God's] plan and that Elijah was back -- although you don't see Elijah; you don't know if it's him -- so it is a faith thing. We liked that sort of up-in-the-air faith thing ... well, is it Elijah or the Avon Lady? My comments elicited the following responses among the listeners/viewers:
Zandy: If you would have raised the son, then we wouldn't have thought so much.
Arlene: My granddaughter told me -- she sat next to me -- she says, "And you know what, [when the widow ended the sermon by exiting through the door] she left the door open a little bit so anyone could follow her."
That is one of the messages I wanted to impart: we are to follow the widow's example of faith; we are all saved by faith. Having the congregation eyewitness miracles may focus the attention of listeners/viewers on miracles as guarantor of the truth of the story. There are no such guarantors, only witnesses to trust, testimonies to believe, an invisible God in whom to hope.
What Is Truth?
One of the biggest hermeneutical problems with adding things to biblical stories in order to retell them, is that many listeners/viewers will come away from a sermon not really sure what exactly is scriptural and what isn't. Since most people don't know the scriptures very well, they won't be able to distinguish what about characters actually comes from the Bible and what are biblically based fabrications. The lie that Eli tells his sons, the life story of Judas -- these are plot elements that people may remember about these characters. Do we really want listeners/viewers to come away from our sermons thinking that they've been told the true story about Judas? Do we need to print a qualifying statement in the bulletin? What would we say? Is this a real problem? It's a question I haven't yet explored with a preaching group, but I do have a story to tell about what goes on in the minds of some of our most sophisticated listeners/viewers.
Recently I preached a sermon on Psalm 139. I used the image of God as "knitting" humans together in our mother's wombs as the starting place for a conversation between God the knitter and his son Jesus. Not long after that sermon came our Ash Wednesday service during which members of our congregation received a cross of ashes on their foreheads to remind them they were made of dust. A six-year-old girl questioned her mother about this ritual. "Mom," she asked, "I thought we were knit." The conversation shows how much children really can and do hear in sermons. It also shows how they naturally understand such metaphors as literally true, because they are concrete operational thinkers. The little girl zeroed in on the contradiction that humans could not be knit and made of dust at the same time. Her mother tried to explain this concrete operational paradox to her daughter as best as she could, but she also understood very well that we are not literally knit together nor that we are literally made out of dust. Her mother understood that these metaphors were used and explored by biblical writers and by me to convey different truths about who we humans are. On a subconscious level, even adults who interpret the scriptures literally most of the time can see that the scriptures speak metaphorically or symbolically or poetically at times. Preaching sermons by creating conversations between God the knitter and his son Jesus does raise many interesting questions among listeners/viewers of all ages. I welcome every question as a teachable moment. These questions give people struggling with hermeneutical issues real motivation to attend one of the many adult education forums we offer to our congregation. In general, I think people are more curious than defensive; that their curiosity is aroused by this method of preaching can only recommend your attempting it.12
The fate of the widow's son is left open in the following sermon. The congregation, however, knows one thing for certain: the widow running to unseen hope for help is what the life of faith is all about.
* * *
The Widow Of Zarephath
A Sermon for Proper 27
(Revised Common Lectionary, Cycle B)
based on 1 Kings 17:8-16 and Mark 12:38-44
preached at Our Savior's Lutheran Church,
Pulaski, Wisconsin
(The Widow Zarephath is asleep on the left. She wears an old housecoat and ratty slippers and her hair is disheveled. Her son sleeps next to her. Somewhere off to one side there must be a door or an opening used as a door through which characters can enter and exit the sermon. The Voice of God, offstage, wakes her up. )
God: Widow of Zarephath!
(Widow starts, sits up, rubs eyes, and looks around.)
God: Widow of Zarephath!
Widow: (irritated) What? What do you want? Who are you?
God: I am Yahweh, God of Israel, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob.
Widow: Excuse me. My name is not Abraham or Isaac or Jacob. So you got the wrong number. I got my own god: the Almighty Buck. (lifts up a huge dollar bill; shows the side with Washington on it first, then the other side) See. It even says "In God We Trust" right on it.
God: You are the widow of Zarephath, are you not?
Widow: Yeah, one of them anyway. I got a first name, you know.
God: I'm sure you do. But they neglected to record it in the scriptures.
Widow: My name is Vanessa. Don't I look like a Vanessa? So, why am I having this conversation with Yahweh, the God of Israel and three dead guys, at two o'clock in the morning? A girl needs her beauty sleep, ya know.
God: I can see that. I'm calling you to put your trust in me. The famine in the land is my punishment upon King Ahab and Queen Jezebel of Israel ...
Widow: (interrupts) Excuse me! The people in my country Sidon are starving because the king and queen of your country, Israel, are a couple of crooks? I got a problem with that! Why are the people of Sidon starving because your people have a raunchy royal family?
God: I am Yahweh, Creator and Ruler of the Universe. I created all things very good. Sin wasn't my idea. The consequences of sin sometimes affect the guilty and the innocent alike.
Widow: Yeah, well that isn't fair. You think you could have done a better job creating and ruling the universe. My husband is dead at age 25. We innocent Sidonians are starving because your people got schmucks on the throne. Me and my son here are starving to death. Tell me that makes sense.
God: People always think they can do a better job at being God. Widow of Zarephath ...
Widow: (interrupts) Vanessa!
God: (reluctantly) Vanessa. My people are abandoning me for other gods. They ...
Widow: (interrupts) Jealous, eh? Well, I can see why. If my god would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me what a lousy job he was doing, I'd throw him out the window.
God: My people are abandoning me for other gods. Their king and queen encourage it. I must reach my people before I lose them forever. I have found the best way to reach them is through other people. When people see a man or woman who has found the courage to give everything they have for my sake, people begin to believe I actually exist after all. People begin to place their trust in me. I am sending such a person to you. He is one of my prophets. His name is Elijah. The king and queen of Israel are seeking to kill him. I need you to help save Elijah, to sustain him during this famine, so he can return to my people with a strong body and a strong faith to turn my people's hearts back to me.
Widow: I see. So, let me get this straight. You want a poor starving widow who doesn't even worship you, who's not even one of your people, who has only a handful of meal in a jar left to eat in the whole house 'til who knows when, and you want me to give everything I have to feed Israel's "Most Wanted Felon" in my house so that he can go back to Israel someday and save your people! (laughs) I can just see this is gonna be my lucky day. So why me?
God: I have seen you at my house, Vanessa ...
Widow: Oh, yeah. I been there. I like gods. I check 'em all out. I shop around. You got a nice temple down there in Jerusalem. Nice sacrifices. Nice worship. Trumpets and lyres and timbrels. They write some great poetry about you, your people do. You must be some God for them. But there's just one small problem.
God: They won't let you in.
Widow: Right. Even if I was one of your people, I'd only get in as far as the court of the women. I wouldn't get in to see them sacrificing all those lambs and those bullocks and roast 'em. What's the big deal anyway? It's nothing I haven't seen in my own kitchen. I know. Those priests probably think we women are gonna steal their recipes.
God: It was not my intent that men rule over women. I created men and women to be equal partners. It was not my intent to exclude women or foreigners from the temple. Even King Solomon's temple dedication speech spoke of the temple as a place where all nations might come. But these intentions have not yet been realized. I must be patient. People are not puppets. I cannot force them to do as I command. People want to have things their way. People want to obey their thirst. People want to do their own thing.
Widow: Yeah, and the whole world's at each other's throats. Everybody wants things their way. You can see it all over the place. Liberals and conservatives fight each other in every government and in every religion; Catholics and Protestants are fighting in Ireland; Palestinians and Israelis are fighting in Israel. Everybody thinks they're better than everybody else; everybody thinks their temple is better than everybody else's. And guess what? Every-body's so busy fighting, we poor folks starve. The innocent suffering for the guilty, again. And so what are you gonna do about it?
God: Through Abraham, through his family, through my people, all the families of the earth will be blessed, will one day be one. You will help my family survive to keep my plan alive.
Widow: Yeah. Right. One heck of a plan. A starving foreign woman gives everything away to save your prophet's posterior. Get outta here!
(Elijah enters from the right and knocks on the door. Widow starts, looks at her alarm clock, slams it down on the table, and goes to the door.)
Widow: It's a little early for trick or treat. Whaddaya want?
Elijah: Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink. Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.
Widow: (aside) Not even a "Good morning, how are ya?" Just comes in here and expects me to serve him like I was his slave. (to Elijah) You must be the prophet Elijah, right? Excuse me. But as the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked; I only have one handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I was just gonna go out and gather a couple sticks, so I can make a little breakfast for me and my son, so we can eat it, and die. I don't have anything for you! Why don't you go out and get a job and work for it like the rest of us?13
Elijah: Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of meal and bring it to me, and afterward make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: "The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth."
Widow: Oh. So that's the deal. If I give away everything for your God, if I trust in your God, he'll look after me so his plan gets accomplished. Okay. All right. I'll make you your cake. I'll give you everything I have. What do I got to lose? Then I'll go out and I'll get some sticks, and if I come back and that jar isn't full, you'll be outta here so fast it'll make your head spin.
(Widow leaves Elijah standing in the doorway, returns into house to mix the last of her flour and oil and roll it out as dough -- there's a pitifully small amount -- as she works she addresses Elijah.)
Widow: See? This is all I got. The whole nine yards. It's all yours! (goes to Elijah and slaps a doughy ball in his hand) Now you sit out here and wait 'til I get back. I don't want have my son waking up with some goofball guru sitting in the living room. He'll think his mother's flipped her lid. And remember what I said about that jar of meal!
(Widow exits right. Elijah enters the house, leaves a full jar of meal that has been concealed under his cloak; then he exits to the right as well. Widow then returns from the right with a pile of sticks. As she enters the house, first she sees the full jar of meal then she looks at her son, drops the sticks, rushes to him, puts her hand down on his forehead, seats herself disconsolately at his side, and continues her part.)
Widow: So this is how that God works. Gives me a full jar of meal for his lousy prophet, but then takes away my son because of my nasty mouth. I can take my own punishment. But my son. He didn't do anything. He didn't do anything to deserve hunger, starvation, death. There we go again. The innocent suffer for the guilty. Elijah can have his stupid jar of meal. I'm not eating it.
God: Vanessa.
Widow: Oh, look who shows up again. You know, your system stinks. I give away everything for your plan and then what happens? Do I get a nice reward for my trust? Do I get a nice reward for my good works? No, it looks like I get punished. Or worse, the innocent suffer for the guilty again. Somebody dies for the sins of others. We all starve to death because of some lousy government.
God: I am sorry, Vanessa. I'm not happy about the suffering of the innocent. I don't know your pain now, but one day I will.
Widow: Serves you right.
God: One day I will have a son, a beautiful son like yours, Vanessa.
Widow: (aside) I pity the gal who gets mixed up with this god.
God: My son will come to the temple. It will be a bigger and more beautiful temple even than Solomon's temple. My son will see, however, how my house will be used to build up the rich, how it will be filled with money changers from whom the poor must buy forgiveness at outlandish rates, how it will be an institution in which the rich invest to make their names look great, how it will continue to exclude women and the poor and those whose bodies or minds are not whole, how it will exclude those of other races and tongues. My son will speak out against this temple, against all such temples, against this way of life. My son will heal and forgive and welcome those who are cast out by the temple authorities. He will invite and bless all the families of the earth; he will work to unite them as one family, as my family. In my son, there will be no longer be conservatives or liberals, Protestants or Catholics, Israelis or Palestinians; there will no longer be poor or rich, there will be no longer male or female; for all will be one in Christ Jesus, my son, their Lord. But for his efforts, my son will be killed. My son, like your son, will die, a most cruel, undeserved death. I am so sorry, Vanessa. It will not be long and I too, will be torn with grief as you are now, torn with grief to see them beat my son, strip him, crown him with thorns, pound nails through his wrists and ankles, and mock him. All because he gave everything for this my plan.
Widow: Been there. Well, I tell ya: I'll believe it when I see it.
God: You will believe. But now, Vanessa, now I have chosen you to be part of my plan. I must make you strong so Elijah will be strong so my family will be strong and survive until the day my son comes. The meal in your house will not run low. Your son, who has died an innocent victim of sin, your son shall be raised. Elijah will return soon to do so. By my power your family will be blessed and one by one, little by little, all the families of the earth will stop their quarreling and be blessed, and will become one, one in me, one in my son.
Widow: I'll believe it when I see it.
God: You will believe, Vanessa. But now your real challenge is just like mine. To believe even when you don't see it. Hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what can already be seen? (Romans 8:24 paraphrased). Those who have hope look not at what can be seen, but at what cannot be seen. What can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18 paraphrased).
(Elijah knocks on the door. Widow starts and looks up toward the door with hope and amazement. Elijah knocks again, louder. Widow looks down at her son again, smiles, rises, and holds up her hand.)
Widow: Wait! Oh, God, I hope it is ... wait! Don't go away! I'll be right there!
(Widow exits through door)
Chapter Notes
1. M. Eugene Boring, "The Gospel of Matthew," in the New International Bible, Vol. VIII, Leander E. Keck, et al. eds. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), p. 350.
2. Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), p. 118; Kevin M. Bradt, S.J., Story as a Way of Knowing (Kansas City, Missouri: Sheed and Ward, 1997), pp. 160-161.
3. Walter Brueggemann, Finally Comes the Poet: Daring Speech for Proclamation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), pp. 4 and 3.
4. Brueggemann, Poet, p. 4.
5. Brueggemann, Poet, p. 5.
6. Lucy Lind Hogan and Robert Reid, Connecting with the Congregation: Rhetoric and the Art of Preaching (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999), pp. 47-67.
7. Henry Mitchell, Celebration and Experience in Preaching (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1990), p. 89.
8. Mitchell, p. 40.
9. David Tracy, Plurality and Ambiguity (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1987), p. 79.
10. Robert C. Fuller, Religion and the Life Cycle (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988), p. 32.
11. David Rhoads, The Challenge of Diversity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), p. 3.
12. Richard Jensen, Thinking In Story (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, 1993), p. 115. See also Thomas Boomershine, Story Journey: An Invitation to the Gospel as Storytelling (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1988), p. 52 and Kevin M. Bradt, S.J., Story as a Way of Knowing (Kansas City, Missouri: Sheed and Ward, 1997), p. 200.
13. Thanks to Arlene from Our Savior's, Pulaski, Wisconsin, for this great line!
When you're adding dialogue, characters, or events not in the biblical text, there's always a chance that your listeners/viewers with more literalist views of the Bible will find this an objectionable and dangerous distortion of the scriptures. Once a woman wrote to admonish me about one of my sermons, because she heard me say the star the Magi followed was a meteorite. (I actually said the narrator of the story may have been referring to a comet.1) Her admonishment was grounded in her understanding of the warning in the book of Revelation not to add to or subtract anything from John's prophecy: "I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this book; if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away that person's share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book" (Revelation 21:18-19). Thank goodness this warning only refers to the book of Revelation -- although I had better watch out next time I preach on it! Her admonishment, interestingly enough, was also based on "the scientific fact" presented to her at a local planetarium that some sort of astronomical event did indeed occur on Jesus' birthday, an astronomical event that led the Magi to Bethlehem. How ready we are to acknowledge the truth of the claims of science! Despite the fact that I know of no biblical scholar rash enough to claim that he or she knows exactly when Jesus was born, the woman who admonished me assumes that astronomers know! If you insist on adding things to the scriptures, the more folks who have in your congregation who interpret the scriptures literally, the more chance there is that you may one day be admonished about this aspect of your preaching.
One Bad Apple Does Spoil The Whole Bunch
One bit of poetic license can damage a preacher's credibility permanently. For one of my project sermons, I retold a biblical story that I had meticulously based on the chronology presented by the book of Nehemiah. Despite my careful retelling of this biblical story, one of the group members reported that her mind was "constantly racing back to the Bible." She was, in other words, constantly wondering whether or not I was being faithful to the text. I later learned that her suspicion was generated by the dramatic monologue sermon on Peter accompanying chapter 2. After that sermon, she asked extremely pointed questions about my portrayal of Peter. Where she had always assumed that Peter had followed Jesus because God had miraculously changed Peter from a fisherman to a disciple, I articulated the interpretation that Peter followed Jesus, because Peter not so miraculously thought Jesus could help him pursue an upwardly mobile path. Those committed to literal or traditional interpretations may be troubled by anything that appears to disrupt their preconceived scriptural notions. Such concerns, in my experience, are not limited to one sermon, but spill over into sermons that are completely uncontroversial.
The crux of this problem with preaching by retelling biblical stories is a hermeneutical one. Do most of your listeners/viewers understand the Bible as a proof book full of proof texts to live by and full of accounts whose historicity is divinely guaranteed? Or do your listeners/viewers understand the Bible similarly to the way Walter Brueggemann understands it: "We are not asking what happened, but what is said. To inquire into the historicity of the text is a legitimate enterprise, but it does not ... belong to the work of Old Testament theology. In like manner, we bracket out all questions of ontology which ask about the 'really real.' It may well be ... that there is no historicity to Israel's faith claim ... we have ... few tools for recovering what happened and even fewer for recovering 'what is' ... those issues must be held in abeyance, pending the credibility and persuasiveness of Israel's testimony on which everything depends"2 (emphasis mine). Here Brueggemann describes the Old Testament as a book of testimony of witnesses the truth of which is not proven, but that calls for our trust. When Brueggemann writes about the whole Bible, he characterizes its entire text as a reliable witness to "prophetic construals of another world," an "evangelical world: an existence shaped by the news of the gospel."3 As it is in the Bible, so Brueggemann thinks it should be in the pulpit: "The poetic speech of text and of sermon is a prophetic construal of a world beyond the one taken for granted4 (emphasis mine). It is, Brueggemann argues, a kind of "fiction." He continues: "The notion of fiction, however, is not so precarious or easily dismissed as we might imagine. It is precisely the daring work of fiction to probe beyond settled truth and to walk the edge of alternatives not yet available to us."5
The Greatest Fish Story Ever Told
This is a marvelous framework for understanding a story like Jonah. Readers of Jonah could concern themselves with the question about whether or not humans can live in the stomach of a fish. Or one could read Jonah as a "prophetic construal of a world beyond the one taken for granted" by Jonah's hearers/readers, who apparently didn't think God was concerned about people of other nations. One could read Jonah as a fabrication of the truth that God does care about other nations and that the people of other nations and the fish in the seas and even the cows in Nineveh are considerably more obedient than the prophets of Israel! Among listeners/viewers with a hermeneutical orientation similar to Brueg-gemann, there may be less anxiety about adding things to the text in order to retell its stories. Those for whom the Bible is a historically accurate proof-book, however, will never be quite comfortable altering the text at all and therefore will never be quite comfortable with the practice of preaching by retelling biblical stories as I have described it here. If that's ninety percent of your congregation and you are committed to mastering this practice, it's probably time to start packing. It will do no good to goad such people for their "out-dated" biblical views by persistently preaching sermons that retell biblical stories.
To tell the truth, preaching a preponderance of sermons that retell biblical stories is a temptation for me, because for me, it's such an engaging and exciting way to preach. However, too much of any form of preaching gets predictable. Remember what the movie critics Siskel and Ebert used to say about being predictable! Preaching sermons as true stories from real-life incidents will be a refreshing alternative for those in the pew who fret about the poetic license involved in preaching by retelling biblical stories.
I have found that the vast majority of people in the congregations I have served (large and small, rural and urban) do not have such well-defined hermeneutical scruples of any kind that they're compelled to carp about my poetic licentiousness. Finally, demonstrating that you are "doing your job," that you are genuinely engaged in the pastoral tasks that confront you and the congregation, goes a long way in encouraging congregations to tolerate many sorts of homiletical experiments and inadequacies.6 Practically every fan of one fiercely loved pastor I once knew readily admitted to me that their beloved pastor was one of the worst preachers they'd ever heard!
Were You There?
Another way of preaching by retelling or dramatizing a biblical story advocated by some prominent homileticians is retelling the biblical story as if the listeners/viewers were really there. Henry Mitchell describes this method in his book, Celebration in Experience and Preaching: "In my book, Black Preaching, I insisted that all narratives from the Bible ought to be told as if one had seen them. It makes no sense to expect the hearer to see the manger or the cross if the one who is preaching hasn't seen it...."7 The purpose of this method is to "bring the hearer aboard, or into the experiential encounter" and is accomplished when "the preacher has already identified with the material and recounts it in an eyewitness mode." According to Mitchell, "often ... details were originally condensed out of the Bible account because of the familiarity with details that was assumed to prevail commonly among hearers of the oral tradition." These details can be found in "the biblical record" and "from study of commentaries and encyclopedias." Details must be "coupled with inspired imagination." Or to describe the process another way: "Our providing details is like putting the common substance called water back into the powdered milk. They are not the very same water or details that were removed, but they are so similar that the result is a very accurate portrayal."8
I certainly agree with the importance Mitchell places on knowing biblical characters as if "one grew up on the same block" with them. His description of "providing details" that were "condensed out" of biblical accounts, because they were "assumed to prevail commonly among hearers of the oral tradition" sounds a great deal like my project of fabricating the truth. My only concern with what Mitchell says is about retelling biblical stories in "an eyewitness mode." When I hear preachers tell biblical stories in "an eyewitness mode," I immediately feel as though the veracity of the message is contingent upon the believing the historicity of the story. The preacher appears to be telling me that Jesus really is God only because the miracles he did really did happen as they are being presented. The preacher is telling me the miracles are proof of the existence of God, of the divinity of Jesus. I don't believe that about the scriptures at all. If the historical Jesus did do miracles, it's as plausible to think of them being a function of his humanness as it is to imagine they are proof of his divinity. There have been countless healers or shamans in many, many cultures throughout the ages. In this Jesus is not unique at all. Believing that Jesus did miracles does not "save" us. Causing listeners/viewers to feel truth is dependent upon the historicity of biblical stories is as problematic for Christians who are comfortable with less literal approaches to the Bible as poetic license is for Christians who are loyal to literalist or traditional understandings of the Bible.
Between Scylla And Charybdis
In his book, Plurality and Ambiguity, David Tracy describes a phenomenon common to the context of listening to discourse he calls creating "victims of discourse." Discourse that explicitly assumes the historicity of scripture causes those with other assumptions to feel marginalized and even attacked.9 Discourse that explicitly denies the historicity of scripture causes those with other assumptions to feel marginalized and even attacked. The point of the gospel is to gather and unite people, not to separate people on the basis of a particular hermeneutical understanding of scriptures. The trick is, therefore, to retell a biblical story so that both points of view concerning the historicity of scriptures are possible. If fabricating the truth is Scylla and making truth contingent on historicity is Charybdis, we need to bring our listeners/viewers safely through these straits without veering too closely to either danger. I am at present content to continue to sail close to the six-headed monster Scylla. Perhaps telling some good stories accompanied by some enchanting music will tame her. (It worked for Harry Potter and friends on a three-headed dog in The Sorcerer's Stone!) The truth is, not many people are particularly self-conscious about their hermeneutical principles. As part of the design of the Doctor of Ministry program I completed, I listened carefully to preaching groups, individuals, even whole congregations, and I rarely heard hermeneutical concerns about adding things to biblical stories, even from those who take the historicity of scriptures very seriously. Those who don't have literalist views of the historicity of scriptures, on the other hand, are more likely to be more conscious of their hermeneutical principles, because they have had to change them and define them from the more literal view of scriptures we all develop as children.10 Making the truth contingent upon historicity is, therefore, more likely to be perceived. When it is perceived, it's my experience that it calls attention to itself; it's distracting; it's not persuasive at all. Making the truth contingent upon historicity is, therefore, the more problematic approach.
Finally, retelling biblical stories as if they really happened as they are written flies in the face of the diversity of versions of biblical stories. It assumes a standard of historicity for the Bible that was not known among biblical writers.11
"Blessed Are Those Who Have Not Seen And Yet Believe ..."
The second project sermon I did during my second year of my Doctor of Ministry studies was about Elijah's visit to the widow of Zarephath. This story concludes with a miracle: Elijah raises the widow's son from death (1 Kings 17:8-16). I include this sermon here as an example of trying to retell a biblical miracle story without creating "victims of discourse" among those holding either point of view concerning the historicity of scriptures. Rather than focusing the listeners/viewers' attention on the historicity of this miracle and making that miracle a prerequisite to believing a truth in the story, I didn't show Elijah raising the boy from the dead. Instead, the sermon ends with a knock on the widow's door and the widow hurrying toward the door, hoping, believing, and trusting that it is Elijah behind the door and hoping, believing, and trusting that Elijah's God might be able to continue to provide the possibility of life for her. Neither she nor the listeners/viewers have any proof that it's Elijah who is knocking at the door. Neither does she nor the listeners/viewers have any proof that Elijah's God would continue to help her. Like the widow, listeners/viewers are left with a picture of faith and hope: faith and hope is like running toward a God you can't see.
A member of my preaching group asked me why I didn't show the miracle of Elijah raising the widow's son, and why I ended the sermon with a knock on the door. In my answer I quoted the relatively well-known words from scripture below that were also part of the sermon: "In hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience" (Romans 8:24-25). The knocking on the door was the hope you can't see, and [the widow of Zarephath] ran toward it. We [the person playing the part of the widow and myself] thought that it was enough to indicate that she had embraced [God's] plan and that Elijah was back -- although you don't see Elijah; you don't know if it's him -- so it is a faith thing. We liked that sort of up-in-the-air faith thing ... well, is it Elijah or the Avon Lady? My comments elicited the following responses among the listeners/viewers:
Zandy: If you would have raised the son, then we wouldn't have thought so much.
Arlene: My granddaughter told me -- she sat next to me -- she says, "And you know what, [when the widow ended the sermon by exiting through the door] she left the door open a little bit so anyone could follow her."
That is one of the messages I wanted to impart: we are to follow the widow's example of faith; we are all saved by faith. Having the congregation eyewitness miracles may focus the attention of listeners/viewers on miracles as guarantor of the truth of the story. There are no such guarantors, only witnesses to trust, testimonies to believe, an invisible God in whom to hope.
What Is Truth?
One of the biggest hermeneutical problems with adding things to biblical stories in order to retell them, is that many listeners/viewers will come away from a sermon not really sure what exactly is scriptural and what isn't. Since most people don't know the scriptures very well, they won't be able to distinguish what about characters actually comes from the Bible and what are biblically based fabrications. The lie that Eli tells his sons, the life story of Judas -- these are plot elements that people may remember about these characters. Do we really want listeners/viewers to come away from our sermons thinking that they've been told the true story about Judas? Do we need to print a qualifying statement in the bulletin? What would we say? Is this a real problem? It's a question I haven't yet explored with a preaching group, but I do have a story to tell about what goes on in the minds of some of our most sophisticated listeners/viewers.
Recently I preached a sermon on Psalm 139. I used the image of God as "knitting" humans together in our mother's wombs as the starting place for a conversation between God the knitter and his son Jesus. Not long after that sermon came our Ash Wednesday service during which members of our congregation received a cross of ashes on their foreheads to remind them they were made of dust. A six-year-old girl questioned her mother about this ritual. "Mom," she asked, "I thought we were knit." The conversation shows how much children really can and do hear in sermons. It also shows how they naturally understand such metaphors as literally true, because they are concrete operational thinkers. The little girl zeroed in on the contradiction that humans could not be knit and made of dust at the same time. Her mother tried to explain this concrete operational paradox to her daughter as best as she could, but she also understood very well that we are not literally knit together nor that we are literally made out of dust. Her mother understood that these metaphors were used and explored by biblical writers and by me to convey different truths about who we humans are. On a subconscious level, even adults who interpret the scriptures literally most of the time can see that the scriptures speak metaphorically or symbolically or poetically at times. Preaching sermons by creating conversations between God the knitter and his son Jesus does raise many interesting questions among listeners/viewers of all ages. I welcome every question as a teachable moment. These questions give people struggling with hermeneutical issues real motivation to attend one of the many adult education forums we offer to our congregation. In general, I think people are more curious than defensive; that their curiosity is aroused by this method of preaching can only recommend your attempting it.12
The fate of the widow's son is left open in the following sermon. The congregation, however, knows one thing for certain: the widow running to unseen hope for help is what the life of faith is all about.
* * *
The Widow Of Zarephath
A Sermon for Proper 27
(Revised Common Lectionary, Cycle B)
based on 1 Kings 17:8-16 and Mark 12:38-44
preached at Our Savior's Lutheran Church,
Pulaski, Wisconsin
(The Widow Zarephath is asleep on the left. She wears an old housecoat and ratty slippers and her hair is disheveled. Her son sleeps next to her. Somewhere off to one side there must be a door or an opening used as a door through which characters can enter and exit the sermon. The Voice of God, offstage, wakes her up. )
God: Widow of Zarephath!
(Widow starts, sits up, rubs eyes, and looks around.)
God: Widow of Zarephath!
Widow: (irritated) What? What do you want? Who are you?
God: I am Yahweh, God of Israel, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob.
Widow: Excuse me. My name is not Abraham or Isaac or Jacob. So you got the wrong number. I got my own god: the Almighty Buck. (lifts up a huge dollar bill; shows the side with Washington on it first, then the other side) See. It even says "In God We Trust" right on it.
God: You are the widow of Zarephath, are you not?
Widow: Yeah, one of them anyway. I got a first name, you know.
God: I'm sure you do. But they neglected to record it in the scriptures.
Widow: My name is Vanessa. Don't I look like a Vanessa? So, why am I having this conversation with Yahweh, the God of Israel and three dead guys, at two o'clock in the morning? A girl needs her beauty sleep, ya know.
God: I can see that. I'm calling you to put your trust in me. The famine in the land is my punishment upon King Ahab and Queen Jezebel of Israel ...
Widow: (interrupts) Excuse me! The people in my country Sidon are starving because the king and queen of your country, Israel, are a couple of crooks? I got a problem with that! Why are the people of Sidon starving because your people have a raunchy royal family?
God: I am Yahweh, Creator and Ruler of the Universe. I created all things very good. Sin wasn't my idea. The consequences of sin sometimes affect the guilty and the innocent alike.
Widow: Yeah, well that isn't fair. You think you could have done a better job creating and ruling the universe. My husband is dead at age 25. We innocent Sidonians are starving because your people got schmucks on the throne. Me and my son here are starving to death. Tell me that makes sense.
God: People always think they can do a better job at being God. Widow of Zarephath ...
Widow: (interrupts) Vanessa!
God: (reluctantly) Vanessa. My people are abandoning me for other gods. They ...
Widow: (interrupts) Jealous, eh? Well, I can see why. If my god would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me what a lousy job he was doing, I'd throw him out the window.
God: My people are abandoning me for other gods. Their king and queen encourage it. I must reach my people before I lose them forever. I have found the best way to reach them is through other people. When people see a man or woman who has found the courage to give everything they have for my sake, people begin to believe I actually exist after all. People begin to place their trust in me. I am sending such a person to you. He is one of my prophets. His name is Elijah. The king and queen of Israel are seeking to kill him. I need you to help save Elijah, to sustain him during this famine, so he can return to my people with a strong body and a strong faith to turn my people's hearts back to me.
Widow: I see. So, let me get this straight. You want a poor starving widow who doesn't even worship you, who's not even one of your people, who has only a handful of meal in a jar left to eat in the whole house 'til who knows when, and you want me to give everything I have to feed Israel's "Most Wanted Felon" in my house so that he can go back to Israel someday and save your people! (laughs) I can just see this is gonna be my lucky day. So why me?
God: I have seen you at my house, Vanessa ...
Widow: Oh, yeah. I been there. I like gods. I check 'em all out. I shop around. You got a nice temple down there in Jerusalem. Nice sacrifices. Nice worship. Trumpets and lyres and timbrels. They write some great poetry about you, your people do. You must be some God for them. But there's just one small problem.
God: They won't let you in.
Widow: Right. Even if I was one of your people, I'd only get in as far as the court of the women. I wouldn't get in to see them sacrificing all those lambs and those bullocks and roast 'em. What's the big deal anyway? It's nothing I haven't seen in my own kitchen. I know. Those priests probably think we women are gonna steal their recipes.
God: It was not my intent that men rule over women. I created men and women to be equal partners. It was not my intent to exclude women or foreigners from the temple. Even King Solomon's temple dedication speech spoke of the temple as a place where all nations might come. But these intentions have not yet been realized. I must be patient. People are not puppets. I cannot force them to do as I command. People want to have things their way. People want to obey their thirst. People want to do their own thing.
Widow: Yeah, and the whole world's at each other's throats. Everybody wants things their way. You can see it all over the place. Liberals and conservatives fight each other in every government and in every religion; Catholics and Protestants are fighting in Ireland; Palestinians and Israelis are fighting in Israel. Everybody thinks they're better than everybody else; everybody thinks their temple is better than everybody else's. And guess what? Every-body's so busy fighting, we poor folks starve. The innocent suffering for the guilty, again. And so what are you gonna do about it?
God: Through Abraham, through his family, through my people, all the families of the earth will be blessed, will one day be one. You will help my family survive to keep my plan alive.
Widow: Yeah. Right. One heck of a plan. A starving foreign woman gives everything away to save your prophet's posterior. Get outta here!
(Elijah enters from the right and knocks on the door. Widow starts, looks at her alarm clock, slams it down on the table, and goes to the door.)
Widow: It's a little early for trick or treat. Whaddaya want?
Elijah: Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink. Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.
Widow: (aside) Not even a "Good morning, how are ya?" Just comes in here and expects me to serve him like I was his slave. (to Elijah) You must be the prophet Elijah, right? Excuse me. But as the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked; I only have one handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I was just gonna go out and gather a couple sticks, so I can make a little breakfast for me and my son, so we can eat it, and die. I don't have anything for you! Why don't you go out and get a job and work for it like the rest of us?13
Elijah: Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of meal and bring it to me, and afterward make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: "The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth."
Widow: Oh. So that's the deal. If I give away everything for your God, if I trust in your God, he'll look after me so his plan gets accomplished. Okay. All right. I'll make you your cake. I'll give you everything I have. What do I got to lose? Then I'll go out and I'll get some sticks, and if I come back and that jar isn't full, you'll be outta here so fast it'll make your head spin.
(Widow leaves Elijah standing in the doorway, returns into house to mix the last of her flour and oil and roll it out as dough -- there's a pitifully small amount -- as she works she addresses Elijah.)
Widow: See? This is all I got. The whole nine yards. It's all yours! (goes to Elijah and slaps a doughy ball in his hand) Now you sit out here and wait 'til I get back. I don't want have my son waking up with some goofball guru sitting in the living room. He'll think his mother's flipped her lid. And remember what I said about that jar of meal!
(Widow exits right. Elijah enters the house, leaves a full jar of meal that has been concealed under his cloak; then he exits to the right as well. Widow then returns from the right with a pile of sticks. As she enters the house, first she sees the full jar of meal then she looks at her son, drops the sticks, rushes to him, puts her hand down on his forehead, seats herself disconsolately at his side, and continues her part.)
Widow: So this is how that God works. Gives me a full jar of meal for his lousy prophet, but then takes away my son because of my nasty mouth. I can take my own punishment. But my son. He didn't do anything. He didn't do anything to deserve hunger, starvation, death. There we go again. The innocent suffer for the guilty. Elijah can have his stupid jar of meal. I'm not eating it.
God: Vanessa.
Widow: Oh, look who shows up again. You know, your system stinks. I give away everything for your plan and then what happens? Do I get a nice reward for my trust? Do I get a nice reward for my good works? No, it looks like I get punished. Or worse, the innocent suffer for the guilty again. Somebody dies for the sins of others. We all starve to death because of some lousy government.
God: I am sorry, Vanessa. I'm not happy about the suffering of the innocent. I don't know your pain now, but one day I will.
Widow: Serves you right.
God: One day I will have a son, a beautiful son like yours, Vanessa.
Widow: (aside) I pity the gal who gets mixed up with this god.
God: My son will come to the temple. It will be a bigger and more beautiful temple even than Solomon's temple. My son will see, however, how my house will be used to build up the rich, how it will be filled with money changers from whom the poor must buy forgiveness at outlandish rates, how it will be an institution in which the rich invest to make their names look great, how it will continue to exclude women and the poor and those whose bodies or minds are not whole, how it will exclude those of other races and tongues. My son will speak out against this temple, against all such temples, against this way of life. My son will heal and forgive and welcome those who are cast out by the temple authorities. He will invite and bless all the families of the earth; he will work to unite them as one family, as my family. In my son, there will be no longer be conservatives or liberals, Protestants or Catholics, Israelis or Palestinians; there will no longer be poor or rich, there will be no longer male or female; for all will be one in Christ Jesus, my son, their Lord. But for his efforts, my son will be killed. My son, like your son, will die, a most cruel, undeserved death. I am so sorry, Vanessa. It will not be long and I too, will be torn with grief as you are now, torn with grief to see them beat my son, strip him, crown him with thorns, pound nails through his wrists and ankles, and mock him. All because he gave everything for this my plan.
Widow: Been there. Well, I tell ya: I'll believe it when I see it.
God: You will believe. But now, Vanessa, now I have chosen you to be part of my plan. I must make you strong so Elijah will be strong so my family will be strong and survive until the day my son comes. The meal in your house will not run low. Your son, who has died an innocent victim of sin, your son shall be raised. Elijah will return soon to do so. By my power your family will be blessed and one by one, little by little, all the families of the earth will stop their quarreling and be blessed, and will become one, one in me, one in my son.
Widow: I'll believe it when I see it.
God: You will believe, Vanessa. But now your real challenge is just like mine. To believe even when you don't see it. Hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what can already be seen? (Romans 8:24 paraphrased). Those who have hope look not at what can be seen, but at what cannot be seen. What can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18 paraphrased).
(Elijah knocks on the door. Widow starts and looks up toward the door with hope and amazement. Elijah knocks again, louder. Widow looks down at her son again, smiles, rises, and holds up her hand.)
Widow: Wait! Oh, God, I hope it is ... wait! Don't go away! I'll be right there!
(Widow exits through door)
Chapter Notes
1. M. Eugene Boring, "The Gospel of Matthew," in the New International Bible, Vol. VIII, Leander E. Keck, et al. eds. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), p. 350.
2. Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), p. 118; Kevin M. Bradt, S.J., Story as a Way of Knowing (Kansas City, Missouri: Sheed and Ward, 1997), pp. 160-161.
3. Walter Brueggemann, Finally Comes the Poet: Daring Speech for Proclamation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), pp. 4 and 3.
4. Brueggemann, Poet, p. 4.
5. Brueggemann, Poet, p. 5.
6. Lucy Lind Hogan and Robert Reid, Connecting with the Congregation: Rhetoric and the Art of Preaching (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999), pp. 47-67.
7. Henry Mitchell, Celebration and Experience in Preaching (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1990), p. 89.
8. Mitchell, p. 40.
9. David Tracy, Plurality and Ambiguity (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1987), p. 79.
10. Robert C. Fuller, Religion and the Life Cycle (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988), p. 32.
11. David Rhoads, The Challenge of Diversity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), p. 3.
12. Richard Jensen, Thinking In Story (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, 1993), p. 115. See also Thomas Boomershine, Story Journey: An Invitation to the Gospel as Storytelling (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1988), p. 52 and Kevin M. Bradt, S.J., Story as a Way of Knowing (Kansas City, Missouri: Sheed and Ward, 1997), p. 200.
13. Thanks to Arlene from Our Savior's, Pulaski, Wisconsin, for this great line!
