Hope fulfilled
Commentary
We are two weeks from Advent and the theme for today seems to be "hope." The First Lesson is a poignant narrative of hope fulfilled. It illustrates the potential of prayer, the value of trusting in God in time of trouble. But the faith it might engender could be quite naive, representative of what Luther called "theology of glory." Does God always answer prayers so neatly? Should the substance of our "hope" really be improvement of our lot in this life?
At first glance, the Gospel reading seems to throw a wet blanket over any pious enthusiasm the First Lesson might instill. Jesus almost seems to be warning his disciples not to get their hopes up. The world is going to continue much as it always has. Things may even get worse.
Theologians trot out the big word "eschatology" when they travel this territory. It gets them over a few of the hurdles, grounding hope in future certainty rather than present circumstance. The Second Lesson points in this direction. We have assurance and confidence here and now based on what God has done and will do. This does not make hope into some otherworldly pipe dream, but rather makes for a well-rounded concept. Hope that is based solely on what we perceive God to be doing now is shallow. What God has done makes a difference still, and what God will do makes a difference already. Well-rounded hope establishes a foundation for life beyond our limited experience or perception.
1 Samuel 1:4-20
The text relates the story of the birth of Samuel. Often called the "last of the Judges," Samuel would become significant primarily as the anointer of kings: first, Saul (8:1--10:27); then, David (16:1-13). His birth to a formerly barren woman is similar to the stories of other men whose very birth involved the special favor of God: Isaac (Genesis 17:16-19); Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25:21-26); Joseph (Genesis 30:22-24); Samson (Judges 13:2-5); and John the Baptist (Luke 1:5-17).
The story for today, however, is more the tale of Hannah. Although she disappears from the narrative soon after this account, her brief role in the biblical drama has remained especially memorable. This is partly because of the color and detail with which this story is told, and also because of the beautiful poem attributed to her in the next chapter (1 Samuel 2; most scholars believe the Magnificat in Luke 1:46-55 to be modeled on this poem).
The story assumes (as did that of Ruth last week) that childlessness is cause for great shame to any woman. In a patriarchal world, women have no value in and of themselves. They establish their worth only by bearing sons, or at least by producing daughters who might bear sons. Hannah's own husband seems to repudiate this notion. He seeks both publicly (v. 5) and privately (v. 8) to affirm her worth. Still, we should not fault Hannah for not being more enlightened in her own thinking. Like all of us, she wants to be respected according to the standards of the world in which she lives. And, she wants a child. Do you remember the Bonnie Raitt song ("Got a friend who calls me up, crying on the phone / Sees babies everywhere she goes and wants one of her own / She's scared / Scared she'll run out of time")?
What would be a modern example? I can think of some that may be inappropriate for a male preacher to name aloud in a sermon. The obese woman. The woman who has lost a breast to cancer. The disfigured or simply "ugly" woman who lives in our society, where women's worth is often measured in terms of appearance. To switch genders, we might imagine the unemployed or unemployable man whose wife must work to support the family. Or the man who suffers from impotence. In any case, let us suppose such a person has a caring spouse who says, "It doesn't matter." Is that enough? For every voice of Elkanah, there is a chorus of Peninnahs. Who would blame the one who responds, "Thank you, dear, but it matters to me"?
Discovering a void that her husband's well-intentioned efforts cannot fill, Hannah turns to the Lord for help. Her spirituality is mistaken for drunkenness, a mistake that will occur again in the biblical record (Acts 2:13). She vows that if God will grant her a son, she will raise him to be a nazirite, one especially consecrated to the Lord. We may recall Luther's prayer in the lightning storm: "Save me, and I will become a monk!"
The Bible does not always approve of people striking deals with God, but in this case Hannah's prayer is answered. Actually, it is more than answered. In due time, she has at least six children (1 Samuel 2:21), maybe seven (1 Samuel 2:5). And so, God is revealed as one who gives abundantly, beyond what we dare to ask or expect.
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
The first few verses here repeat themes that have been sounded several times over the past few weeks: Christ's sacrifice was once-for-all, providing for our salvation so fully that the temple cult has been rendered obsolete. This point would not be controversial among modern Christians and, in any case, has little relevance for those who are not contemplating the reinstitution of animal sacrifices just to be sure their sins are covered. Most preachers, however, can readily find contemporary analogies: the absolute quality of Christ's offering is still incredible. We think that forgiveness of our sins must surely require something else, specifically something that we offer. It doesn't.
After rehearsing this basic lesson (sometimes called "the gospel") one more time, the letter turns at last to a "therefore" (v. 19). Ah, we might think. There had to be a catch. Here it comes. But what follows? No strings attached. Just, "confidence" (v. 19). "Assurance" (v. 22). The benefit of Christ's sacrifice is, in fact, better than we imagined. It offers us not only eternal salvation but also provides contemporary accessibility to God.
How great a privilege this is can only be understood against the background of the Jewish temple imagery our text presupposes. Only the high priest was allowed to enter the presence of God, and that but once a year (see comments on last week's Second Lesson). Now, we all are invited to do so, anytime, anywhere. Jesus' flesh (that is, his death) opened the curtain (cf. Mark 15:38).
Such a privilege comes to us because we no longer bear the guilt of sin or conscience. In verse 22, Christian baptismal and Jewish sacrificial imagery combine to illustrate how clean we are. Elsewhere, we are told that God views us now as "holy and blameless" (Ephesians 1:4). Our concern, then, is no longer for our own welfare, but for others, to spur each other on (v. 24). This is the reason for us to come together (v. 25), to promote the triad presented in verses 22-24: faith (v. 22), hope (v. 23), and love (v. 24). These three abide, the Apostle says (1 Corinthians 13:13).
Mark 13:1-8
The Second Lesson ends with an exhortation for us to encourage one another all the more, as we "see the Day approaching." Many no longer see that Day on the immediate horizon and, so, this particular motivation for encouragement falls away. In the Gospel text, Jesus begins his apocalyptic discourse by warning disciples that the Day could be further off than some would have us believe.
The occasion for the discourse in Mark is Jesus' prediction that the Temple will be destroyed (vv. 1-2). This prediction causes skeptical scholars to postdate the whole Gospel until after 70 C.E. on the supposition that no one could have known this would happen before it actually occurred. Such reasoning is flawed since, even apart from any appeal to divine revelation, we can grant that astute prophets might have projected repetition of the Babylonian catastrophe as a possible scenario for Israel. Jesus' prediction is generic not specific and is juxtaposed to his disciples' obsession with the grandeur of the buildings. In Mark's thinking, a temple made with human hands belongs to the category of "human things," which are consistently contrasted with "the things of God" (7:8; 8:33).
Some disciples want "a sign" of when this will be. Jesus answers them vaguely, if at all. In the context of the full chapter, the "sign" the disciples are looking for might be the desolating sacrilege referred to in verse 14, but even that seems to be a symbolic reference to Daniel (9:27; 11:31; 12:11) and the meaning is unclear. In the verses that make up this lesson, no sigh is given, and Jesus merely warns them not to expect the world to become a better place in the meantime. (Actually, that is probably the enduring meaning of the "desolating sacrilege" symbol also -- the sign that Paradise is about to dawn is not some noticeable improvement in society but, ironically, the redundant degradation of all that is sacred.)
Is there any message of hope here? Not much, in these verses as such. See the Second Lesson for that message. Rather, the emphasis here is on where not to put our hope. The answer might be worded variously as "in history" or "in humanity" or "in the world" or even "in time and space." The only valid hope, ultimately, is eschatological.
To some, this seems depressing or cynical. To others, it is just realistic. The great mistake of pre-Holocaust Protestant liberalism was its identification of the kingdom of God with human progress. We should recall that, originally, the wonderful journal Christian Century was so-named because its founders believed the twentieth century would be the one during which Christian influence transformed the world into a sphere of peace and justice. It didn't happen, and, like embarrassed Jehovah's Witnesses, the journal's supporters have had to recalculate. They have done so with integrity, and often with new appreciation of the distinction between what is already and not yet.
How wonderful when, like Hannah, we find our prayers answered in this life, and God's blessings pour out in ways that surpass our dreams. But many remain childless, barren, and in pain, prime candidates for someone to "lead them astray" with false promises of Paradise here and now. Wars, rumors of wars, earthquakes, famines ... Jesus says these things will happen, and will keep happening, and still the end is not yet. "Do not be alarmed," he says. Such advice makes no sense unless we have hope beyond this world and this life.
FIRST LESSON FOCUSBy Elizabeth Achtemeier
1 Samuel 1:4-20
In our society, there is no longer a stigma attached to childlessness as there was for the barren Hannah in our story. There are couples these days who simply do not want to have children, and they are not to be chided for that attitude. If a wife and her husband do not want to bear offspring, then they should not do so, for every child should be wanted.
To be sure, there are some selfish or faithless reasons for not having children. Some couples do not want their lives interrupted with the many demands and responsibilities that children bring with them. They selfishly want to live only for themselves. Others do not want to bring a child into an evil world such as ours, forgetting that God is still in charge of his world. Or a few couples may think they are not good enough to be parents, and they forget that none of us is good but God alone. There is no doubt whatsoever that it takes dependence on God and a lot of prayer to raise a child rightly, a fact that faithless parents never realize.
Beyond all of that, however, this story about the childless Hannah, who desperately desires a child and yet who remains barren, is a tale with which thousands of couples in our society can identify. Many wives and husbands want children and find that they cannot have them. The weeping of Hannah, the compassion of Elkanah for his barren wife, the anguish that they suffer -- how many persons in our day share that distress! They pray for a child, and the prayer is not answered. They go to countless doctors and undergo all sorts of tests or even surgery, and no conception takes place. Yes, this is a story with which many can identify.
To be sure, by the grace of God that has lent knowledge and skill to our scientists, in-vitro fertilization is leading to some almost miraculous births, and as our scientists gain more and more knowledge and experience, such artificial fertilization is becoming more and more successful, although unfortunately it is still an expensive procedure. In addition and more commonly, there are couples who have mercifully turned to adoption to give otherwise homeless children the loving family and security that they need. One of the terrible tragedies of our time is that thousands of couples want to adopt children, and yet one and one-half million babies are being aborted every year. How much better it would be if, instead of being killed in the womb, those children were born and given over to couples who so desperately want them and are waiting for them! The church could do much more than it is doing to foster the adoption process.
If we ask after the heart of our story here in 1 Samuel, however, the emphasis is on the fact that children are a gracious gift from God. The birth of Samuel will mark a turning point in Israel's life, and Samuel will replace the faithless sons of Eli (cf. 2:12) as a priest at the central worship place of Shiloh and as a prophet and judge in Israel. God enables Hannah to conceive Samuel in order further to guide the life of his covenant people Israel. Indeed, the Bible is quite sure that God enables every child to be conceived because God has a purpose for that child's life.
But children are never deserved, are they? In the Old Testament, they are given in fulfillment of God's promise to Abraham that he would have many descendants (Genesis 16:5; 17:4-6, et al.). And they are always highly regarded as blessings. Sings the Psalmist,
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine
within your house;
your children will be like olive shoots
around your table.
Lo, thus shall the man be blessed
who fears the Lord. (Psalm 128:3-4)
But children are never given us as rewards of our piety or as results of our goodness. Every faithful parent knows that, as Hannah knew it. Heaven knows she and Elkanah were pious enough, as is shown by Hannah's prayer and Elkanah's annual pilgrimage to Shiloh to make sacrifices to the Lord. Samuel was simply an undeserved gift, and our children are undeserved gifts. How many of us have gazed in awestruck wonder at a newborn's tiny face and fingers! And how many of us have just marveled at the joy that our children have brought into our lives!
To be sure, our children cost us countless hours of work and worry, of anxiety and care and concern. But we would not send anyone of them back, would we? Not really! And think how much they teach us about living Christian lives! They teach us that we can love another, even when that other is being totally unlovable. They show us that we can make sacrifices and give up something that we want for the sake of the child we love. They demand of us patience and understanding, gentleness and compassion. And yes, they even teach us forgiveness. How often have we punished a child, not because of what the child has done, but because we have been tired and short-tempered! Yet two minutes later that child is hugging us and saying, "I love you, Mommy." And at that point we realize that we are forgiven for our wrong and given a new beginning. Surely our children aid us to grow up into Christian maturity, into the fullness of the measure of the stature of Christ, who so loved little children!
Our children are given us by God, as Hannah so faithfully knew, and they finally belong to the God who gave them, as Hannah acknowledged by dedicating Samuel to God's service. They are lent to us for a little while to protect and love, to raise and nurture in the knowledge and ways of our Lord, and we are always responsible to God for their care and how we bring them up. So we daily lift up our children to God in prayer, asking his guidance of them and of us. And we daily thank God, as Hannah thanked, for these miraculous gifts of children the Lord has given us.
At first glance, the Gospel reading seems to throw a wet blanket over any pious enthusiasm the First Lesson might instill. Jesus almost seems to be warning his disciples not to get their hopes up. The world is going to continue much as it always has. Things may even get worse.
Theologians trot out the big word "eschatology" when they travel this territory. It gets them over a few of the hurdles, grounding hope in future certainty rather than present circumstance. The Second Lesson points in this direction. We have assurance and confidence here and now based on what God has done and will do. This does not make hope into some otherworldly pipe dream, but rather makes for a well-rounded concept. Hope that is based solely on what we perceive God to be doing now is shallow. What God has done makes a difference still, and what God will do makes a difference already. Well-rounded hope establishes a foundation for life beyond our limited experience or perception.
1 Samuel 1:4-20
The text relates the story of the birth of Samuel. Often called the "last of the Judges," Samuel would become significant primarily as the anointer of kings: first, Saul (8:1--10:27); then, David (16:1-13). His birth to a formerly barren woman is similar to the stories of other men whose very birth involved the special favor of God: Isaac (Genesis 17:16-19); Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25:21-26); Joseph (Genesis 30:22-24); Samson (Judges 13:2-5); and John the Baptist (Luke 1:5-17).
The story for today, however, is more the tale of Hannah. Although she disappears from the narrative soon after this account, her brief role in the biblical drama has remained especially memorable. This is partly because of the color and detail with which this story is told, and also because of the beautiful poem attributed to her in the next chapter (1 Samuel 2; most scholars believe the Magnificat in Luke 1:46-55 to be modeled on this poem).
The story assumes (as did that of Ruth last week) that childlessness is cause for great shame to any woman. In a patriarchal world, women have no value in and of themselves. They establish their worth only by bearing sons, or at least by producing daughters who might bear sons. Hannah's own husband seems to repudiate this notion. He seeks both publicly (v. 5) and privately (v. 8) to affirm her worth. Still, we should not fault Hannah for not being more enlightened in her own thinking. Like all of us, she wants to be respected according to the standards of the world in which she lives. And, she wants a child. Do you remember the Bonnie Raitt song ("Got a friend who calls me up, crying on the phone / Sees babies everywhere she goes and wants one of her own / She's scared / Scared she'll run out of time")?
What would be a modern example? I can think of some that may be inappropriate for a male preacher to name aloud in a sermon. The obese woman. The woman who has lost a breast to cancer. The disfigured or simply "ugly" woman who lives in our society, where women's worth is often measured in terms of appearance. To switch genders, we might imagine the unemployed or unemployable man whose wife must work to support the family. Or the man who suffers from impotence. In any case, let us suppose such a person has a caring spouse who says, "It doesn't matter." Is that enough? For every voice of Elkanah, there is a chorus of Peninnahs. Who would blame the one who responds, "Thank you, dear, but it matters to me"?
Discovering a void that her husband's well-intentioned efforts cannot fill, Hannah turns to the Lord for help. Her spirituality is mistaken for drunkenness, a mistake that will occur again in the biblical record (Acts 2:13). She vows that if God will grant her a son, she will raise him to be a nazirite, one especially consecrated to the Lord. We may recall Luther's prayer in the lightning storm: "Save me, and I will become a monk!"
The Bible does not always approve of people striking deals with God, but in this case Hannah's prayer is answered. Actually, it is more than answered. In due time, she has at least six children (1 Samuel 2:21), maybe seven (1 Samuel 2:5). And so, God is revealed as one who gives abundantly, beyond what we dare to ask or expect.
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
The first few verses here repeat themes that have been sounded several times over the past few weeks: Christ's sacrifice was once-for-all, providing for our salvation so fully that the temple cult has been rendered obsolete. This point would not be controversial among modern Christians and, in any case, has little relevance for those who are not contemplating the reinstitution of animal sacrifices just to be sure their sins are covered. Most preachers, however, can readily find contemporary analogies: the absolute quality of Christ's offering is still incredible. We think that forgiveness of our sins must surely require something else, specifically something that we offer. It doesn't.
After rehearsing this basic lesson (sometimes called "the gospel") one more time, the letter turns at last to a "therefore" (v. 19). Ah, we might think. There had to be a catch. Here it comes. But what follows? No strings attached. Just, "confidence" (v. 19). "Assurance" (v. 22). The benefit of Christ's sacrifice is, in fact, better than we imagined. It offers us not only eternal salvation but also provides contemporary accessibility to God.
How great a privilege this is can only be understood against the background of the Jewish temple imagery our text presupposes. Only the high priest was allowed to enter the presence of God, and that but once a year (see comments on last week's Second Lesson). Now, we all are invited to do so, anytime, anywhere. Jesus' flesh (that is, his death) opened the curtain (cf. Mark 15:38).
Such a privilege comes to us because we no longer bear the guilt of sin or conscience. In verse 22, Christian baptismal and Jewish sacrificial imagery combine to illustrate how clean we are. Elsewhere, we are told that God views us now as "holy and blameless" (Ephesians 1:4). Our concern, then, is no longer for our own welfare, but for others, to spur each other on (v. 24). This is the reason for us to come together (v. 25), to promote the triad presented in verses 22-24: faith (v. 22), hope (v. 23), and love (v. 24). These three abide, the Apostle says (1 Corinthians 13:13).
Mark 13:1-8
The Second Lesson ends with an exhortation for us to encourage one another all the more, as we "see the Day approaching." Many no longer see that Day on the immediate horizon and, so, this particular motivation for encouragement falls away. In the Gospel text, Jesus begins his apocalyptic discourse by warning disciples that the Day could be further off than some would have us believe.
The occasion for the discourse in Mark is Jesus' prediction that the Temple will be destroyed (vv. 1-2). This prediction causes skeptical scholars to postdate the whole Gospel until after 70 C.E. on the supposition that no one could have known this would happen before it actually occurred. Such reasoning is flawed since, even apart from any appeal to divine revelation, we can grant that astute prophets might have projected repetition of the Babylonian catastrophe as a possible scenario for Israel. Jesus' prediction is generic not specific and is juxtaposed to his disciples' obsession with the grandeur of the buildings. In Mark's thinking, a temple made with human hands belongs to the category of "human things," which are consistently contrasted with "the things of God" (7:8; 8:33).
Some disciples want "a sign" of when this will be. Jesus answers them vaguely, if at all. In the context of the full chapter, the "sign" the disciples are looking for might be the desolating sacrilege referred to in verse 14, but even that seems to be a symbolic reference to Daniel (9:27; 11:31; 12:11) and the meaning is unclear. In the verses that make up this lesson, no sigh is given, and Jesus merely warns them not to expect the world to become a better place in the meantime. (Actually, that is probably the enduring meaning of the "desolating sacrilege" symbol also -- the sign that Paradise is about to dawn is not some noticeable improvement in society but, ironically, the redundant degradation of all that is sacred.)
Is there any message of hope here? Not much, in these verses as such. See the Second Lesson for that message. Rather, the emphasis here is on where not to put our hope. The answer might be worded variously as "in history" or "in humanity" or "in the world" or even "in time and space." The only valid hope, ultimately, is eschatological.
To some, this seems depressing or cynical. To others, it is just realistic. The great mistake of pre-Holocaust Protestant liberalism was its identification of the kingdom of God with human progress. We should recall that, originally, the wonderful journal Christian Century was so-named because its founders believed the twentieth century would be the one during which Christian influence transformed the world into a sphere of peace and justice. It didn't happen, and, like embarrassed Jehovah's Witnesses, the journal's supporters have had to recalculate. They have done so with integrity, and often with new appreciation of the distinction between what is already and not yet.
How wonderful when, like Hannah, we find our prayers answered in this life, and God's blessings pour out in ways that surpass our dreams. But many remain childless, barren, and in pain, prime candidates for someone to "lead them astray" with false promises of Paradise here and now. Wars, rumors of wars, earthquakes, famines ... Jesus says these things will happen, and will keep happening, and still the end is not yet. "Do not be alarmed," he says. Such advice makes no sense unless we have hope beyond this world and this life.
FIRST LESSON FOCUSBy Elizabeth Achtemeier
1 Samuel 1:4-20
In our society, there is no longer a stigma attached to childlessness as there was for the barren Hannah in our story. There are couples these days who simply do not want to have children, and they are not to be chided for that attitude. If a wife and her husband do not want to bear offspring, then they should not do so, for every child should be wanted.
To be sure, there are some selfish or faithless reasons for not having children. Some couples do not want their lives interrupted with the many demands and responsibilities that children bring with them. They selfishly want to live only for themselves. Others do not want to bring a child into an evil world such as ours, forgetting that God is still in charge of his world. Or a few couples may think they are not good enough to be parents, and they forget that none of us is good but God alone. There is no doubt whatsoever that it takes dependence on God and a lot of prayer to raise a child rightly, a fact that faithless parents never realize.
Beyond all of that, however, this story about the childless Hannah, who desperately desires a child and yet who remains barren, is a tale with which thousands of couples in our society can identify. Many wives and husbands want children and find that they cannot have them. The weeping of Hannah, the compassion of Elkanah for his barren wife, the anguish that they suffer -- how many persons in our day share that distress! They pray for a child, and the prayer is not answered. They go to countless doctors and undergo all sorts of tests or even surgery, and no conception takes place. Yes, this is a story with which many can identify.
To be sure, by the grace of God that has lent knowledge and skill to our scientists, in-vitro fertilization is leading to some almost miraculous births, and as our scientists gain more and more knowledge and experience, such artificial fertilization is becoming more and more successful, although unfortunately it is still an expensive procedure. In addition and more commonly, there are couples who have mercifully turned to adoption to give otherwise homeless children the loving family and security that they need. One of the terrible tragedies of our time is that thousands of couples want to adopt children, and yet one and one-half million babies are being aborted every year. How much better it would be if, instead of being killed in the womb, those children were born and given over to couples who so desperately want them and are waiting for them! The church could do much more than it is doing to foster the adoption process.
If we ask after the heart of our story here in 1 Samuel, however, the emphasis is on the fact that children are a gracious gift from God. The birth of Samuel will mark a turning point in Israel's life, and Samuel will replace the faithless sons of Eli (cf. 2:12) as a priest at the central worship place of Shiloh and as a prophet and judge in Israel. God enables Hannah to conceive Samuel in order further to guide the life of his covenant people Israel. Indeed, the Bible is quite sure that God enables every child to be conceived because God has a purpose for that child's life.
But children are never deserved, are they? In the Old Testament, they are given in fulfillment of God's promise to Abraham that he would have many descendants (Genesis 16:5; 17:4-6, et al.). And they are always highly regarded as blessings. Sings the Psalmist,
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine
within your house;
your children will be like olive shoots
around your table.
Lo, thus shall the man be blessed
who fears the Lord. (Psalm 128:3-4)
But children are never given us as rewards of our piety or as results of our goodness. Every faithful parent knows that, as Hannah knew it. Heaven knows she and Elkanah were pious enough, as is shown by Hannah's prayer and Elkanah's annual pilgrimage to Shiloh to make sacrifices to the Lord. Samuel was simply an undeserved gift, and our children are undeserved gifts. How many of us have gazed in awestruck wonder at a newborn's tiny face and fingers! And how many of us have just marveled at the joy that our children have brought into our lives!
To be sure, our children cost us countless hours of work and worry, of anxiety and care and concern. But we would not send anyone of them back, would we? Not really! And think how much they teach us about living Christian lives! They teach us that we can love another, even when that other is being totally unlovable. They show us that we can make sacrifices and give up something that we want for the sake of the child we love. They demand of us patience and understanding, gentleness and compassion. And yes, they even teach us forgiveness. How often have we punished a child, not because of what the child has done, but because we have been tired and short-tempered! Yet two minutes later that child is hugging us and saying, "I love you, Mommy." And at that point we realize that we are forgiven for our wrong and given a new beginning. Surely our children aid us to grow up into Christian maturity, into the fullness of the measure of the stature of Christ, who so loved little children!
Our children are given us by God, as Hannah so faithfully knew, and they finally belong to the God who gave them, as Hannah acknowledged by dedicating Samuel to God's service. They are lent to us for a little while to protect and love, to raise and nurture in the knowledge and ways of our Lord, and we are always responsible to God for their care and how we bring them up. So we daily lift up our children to God in prayer, asking his guidance of them and of us. And we daily thank God, as Hannah thanked, for these miraculous gifts of children the Lord has given us.
