Humble Beginnings
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series I, Cycle B
Small town folk will often ask a person on first meeting, "Who was your mother?" What they mean is: "What was your mother's last name before she was married?" By being introduced with first and last name, the father's family connection has been disclosed, but another question is needed to clarify the individual's beginnings from the other side of the family: "Who was your mother?"
We human beings are strongly interested in a person's beginnings. We have many ways of asking people where they were before they were here. In a big city, we ask, "Where are you from, originally?" When we apply for a job, we must present information that tells our prospective employer who we are and where we started. When a couple wants to get married, the clergy will ask, "Have you been married before? How did you meet?" We can also do reference checks, police checks, and credit checks, and we hire private investigators to find out the rest. We do all kinds of things to find out any particular person's beginnings, humble or otherwise.
The way we use the information regarding a person's beginnings is confusing. A prospective spouse doesn't seem to think that a partner's three failed marriages won't lead to a fourth. There is no evidence that greatness has anything to do with where you come from; great people can come from tiny insignificant places. ("Can anything good come out of Nazareth?") Failing mathematics did not stop Albert Einstein from becoming a great scientist. Ludwig van Beethoven's abuse at the hands of his father, eventually leading to total deafness, did not stop him from becoming one of the world's greatest composers.
In spite of all of the evidence to the contrary, we still often think that a person's beginnings determine where he or she is going to go or who he or she is going to be in one's life or employment.
Samuel, the son of Elkanah and Hannah, was a giant of the Bible. During his life, he carried the identity of the people of Israel through a time of transition from pre-monarchy to monarchy, and defined their future. He was known as a military and judicial judge. He was known as a nazarite, although we usually think of him as a prophet. Yet Samuel came from humble beginnings that are best described as barren.
Samuel's mother had to endure the pain of childlessness for many years. She was shamed by Elkanah's other wife, Peninnah who had been blessed to have many children. Even though Elkanah gave Hannah double portions to affirm his love for her, she still suffered the pain of Peninnah's persistent provocations.
A strong theme that emerges in this vignette is one we human beings do not like: waiting. The problem we have with waiting is that we never know if it is hopeless waiting or fruitful waiting. Until the waiting is over, we don't know which it is: helpful or wasteful.
We do know that Hannah's anguish at being childless overrides the lavish love that Elkanah has for her. The sad truth remains that Elkanah, with his great and noble past, has a barren wife and no hope of an heir from her. The family hopelessness mirrors the state of the nation which is confused and demoralized by the threat of the Philistines. They need a great king -- and the great King David will eventually come and make right all that is wrong -- but at this moment we find them stuck in a holding pattern of waiting. Everything hinges on a barren womb that the text tells us God has closed. Hannah is grief-stricken, depressed, and unable to eat.
This impasse is broken by worship. Hannah presents herself to God at Shiloh and the temple priest, Eli, witnesses her struggle. Just as many of us bargain with God, Hannah vows that if God gives her a son, she will give the son back to the service of God.
Hannah has to set the record straight with the priest Eli. When he sees her praying, he thinks that she is drunk. The priest does not recognize her desperation, grief, frustration, and her intense piety. To this very day, those of us who are desperate look compromised to the ones who observe us from the comfort of viewing anguish from the outside.
The priest Eli gives his benediction to her prayer: "Go in peace; may the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him" (v. 17). The passage speaks of a deep faith: Hannah is in need, the priest mediates, God answers. The waiting is over, hope has returned, and the sovereign God has responded. There is no doubt.
"And she said, 'Let your servant find favor in your sight.' Then the woman went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband and her countenance was sad no longer" (v. 18). Husband and wife rose early in the morning, they worshiped, they made love, "the Lord remembered her" and she bore a son and "... she named him Samuel, for she said, 'I have asked him of the Lord' " (v. 20).
There are times when things may look bleak and barren for us. We can articulate how bad things are in great detail and with great conviction, but we must always remember and never forget, that even though Hannah was barren, she was still a creature of God's sovereign universe, and she was still an agent for God's future plans in the world.
There are times of "bareness" for each of us: retirement leaves us with the feeling that we are no longer productive; the passion and vigor seems to have left our relationship; our hopes and dreams seem to be mistaken or unfulfilled; our child appears to be lost in an abyss of failure; our church seems to be going downhill; life seems to have lost its zest; a drug addict relapses yet again; the well has gone dry.
Maybe you think that the predicament in which you find yourself is much too humble beginnings where God is unlikely to do anything creative and wonderful. But that is exactly where we first found Hannah -- humble beginnings from which God produced the great Samuel. Hannah was the personification of "humble beginnings."
When we feel that we are in hopeless despair like Hannah, we need to remember her solution. She took her problem to God: "Hannah rose and presented herself before the Lord" (v. 9).
In a spirit of communion, she continued to have faith in God when her options had been exhausted. She knew that Yahweh was more than she was and knew more than she did, therefore Hannah prayed sincerely. She was not in isolation; she had her spiritual advisor in the priest, Eli. She was not discouraged by other's misunderstanding of her and of her goal; she stood her ground (when Eli thought she was drunk). She continued to love her husband and abide in her faith.
You will notice that Hannah was not one of these phony self-help motivators, who pretend to be inexhaustible and have all of the answers. Hannah's source of energy and hope was in something outside of her being, but directly connected to her being. Her source of energy and hope was her faith in God.
When you and I, and Hannah and Elkanah and Peninnah, and other people (like your spouse, your friends, your boss) think a situation is barren, Yahweh, the Creator, the Life-Giver, the One who knows and continues to see beyond our horizons, says: "There is more! My kingdom is going on. I have more plans for your future and they are good!" With God, there are no barren wombs! Amen.
We human beings are strongly interested in a person's beginnings. We have many ways of asking people where they were before they were here. In a big city, we ask, "Where are you from, originally?" When we apply for a job, we must present information that tells our prospective employer who we are and where we started. When a couple wants to get married, the clergy will ask, "Have you been married before? How did you meet?" We can also do reference checks, police checks, and credit checks, and we hire private investigators to find out the rest. We do all kinds of things to find out any particular person's beginnings, humble or otherwise.
The way we use the information regarding a person's beginnings is confusing. A prospective spouse doesn't seem to think that a partner's three failed marriages won't lead to a fourth. There is no evidence that greatness has anything to do with where you come from; great people can come from tiny insignificant places. ("Can anything good come out of Nazareth?") Failing mathematics did not stop Albert Einstein from becoming a great scientist. Ludwig van Beethoven's abuse at the hands of his father, eventually leading to total deafness, did not stop him from becoming one of the world's greatest composers.
In spite of all of the evidence to the contrary, we still often think that a person's beginnings determine where he or she is going to go or who he or she is going to be in one's life or employment.
Samuel, the son of Elkanah and Hannah, was a giant of the Bible. During his life, he carried the identity of the people of Israel through a time of transition from pre-monarchy to monarchy, and defined their future. He was known as a military and judicial judge. He was known as a nazarite, although we usually think of him as a prophet. Yet Samuel came from humble beginnings that are best described as barren.
Samuel's mother had to endure the pain of childlessness for many years. She was shamed by Elkanah's other wife, Peninnah who had been blessed to have many children. Even though Elkanah gave Hannah double portions to affirm his love for her, she still suffered the pain of Peninnah's persistent provocations.
A strong theme that emerges in this vignette is one we human beings do not like: waiting. The problem we have with waiting is that we never know if it is hopeless waiting or fruitful waiting. Until the waiting is over, we don't know which it is: helpful or wasteful.
We do know that Hannah's anguish at being childless overrides the lavish love that Elkanah has for her. The sad truth remains that Elkanah, with his great and noble past, has a barren wife and no hope of an heir from her. The family hopelessness mirrors the state of the nation which is confused and demoralized by the threat of the Philistines. They need a great king -- and the great King David will eventually come and make right all that is wrong -- but at this moment we find them stuck in a holding pattern of waiting. Everything hinges on a barren womb that the text tells us God has closed. Hannah is grief-stricken, depressed, and unable to eat.
This impasse is broken by worship. Hannah presents herself to God at Shiloh and the temple priest, Eli, witnesses her struggle. Just as many of us bargain with God, Hannah vows that if God gives her a son, she will give the son back to the service of God.
Hannah has to set the record straight with the priest Eli. When he sees her praying, he thinks that she is drunk. The priest does not recognize her desperation, grief, frustration, and her intense piety. To this very day, those of us who are desperate look compromised to the ones who observe us from the comfort of viewing anguish from the outside.
The priest Eli gives his benediction to her prayer: "Go in peace; may the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him" (v. 17). The passage speaks of a deep faith: Hannah is in need, the priest mediates, God answers. The waiting is over, hope has returned, and the sovereign God has responded. There is no doubt.
"And she said, 'Let your servant find favor in your sight.' Then the woman went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband and her countenance was sad no longer" (v. 18). Husband and wife rose early in the morning, they worshiped, they made love, "the Lord remembered her" and she bore a son and "... she named him Samuel, for she said, 'I have asked him of the Lord' " (v. 20).
There are times when things may look bleak and barren for us. We can articulate how bad things are in great detail and with great conviction, but we must always remember and never forget, that even though Hannah was barren, she was still a creature of God's sovereign universe, and she was still an agent for God's future plans in the world.
There are times of "bareness" for each of us: retirement leaves us with the feeling that we are no longer productive; the passion and vigor seems to have left our relationship; our hopes and dreams seem to be mistaken or unfulfilled; our child appears to be lost in an abyss of failure; our church seems to be going downhill; life seems to have lost its zest; a drug addict relapses yet again; the well has gone dry.
Maybe you think that the predicament in which you find yourself is much too humble beginnings where God is unlikely to do anything creative and wonderful. But that is exactly where we first found Hannah -- humble beginnings from which God produced the great Samuel. Hannah was the personification of "humble beginnings."
When we feel that we are in hopeless despair like Hannah, we need to remember her solution. She took her problem to God: "Hannah rose and presented herself before the Lord" (v. 9).
In a spirit of communion, she continued to have faith in God when her options had been exhausted. She knew that Yahweh was more than she was and knew more than she did, therefore Hannah prayed sincerely. She was not in isolation; she had her spiritual advisor in the priest, Eli. She was not discouraged by other's misunderstanding of her and of her goal; she stood her ground (when Eli thought she was drunk). She continued to love her husband and abide in her faith.
You will notice that Hannah was not one of these phony self-help motivators, who pretend to be inexhaustible and have all of the answers. Hannah's source of energy and hope was in something outside of her being, but directly connected to her being. Her source of energy and hope was her faith in God.
When you and I, and Hannah and Elkanah and Peninnah, and other people (like your spouse, your friends, your boss) think a situation is barren, Yahweh, the Creator, the Life-Giver, the One who knows and continues to see beyond our horizons, says: "There is more! My kingdom is going on. I have more plans for your future and they are good!" With God, there are no barren wombs! Amen.
