How Not To Be The Father Of The Year
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle A
Object:
It is somehow ironic that the lectionary presents this text around the time America celebrates Father's Day. It is not exactly the inspiring story of paternal love and care that we might wish for.
The story is familiar enough. Abraham and Sarah are childless, a particular disaster in the ancient world since children stabilized that society -- they were a supply of labor, a promise of old-age security, and guarantors of the orderly transfer of property. Indeed, for a woman to fail to give her husband children was seen as a curse from God. But there was an alternative: surrogate motherhood. Custom of the day permitted a woman to claim as her own any children a servant girl might bear after a liaison with the master of the house. So, according to the Genesis record, with mistress Sarah's blessing (although I suspect it was given with a forced smile and through clenched teeth), Hagar became pregnant with Abraham's first child, Ishmael, a Hebrew name meaning "God hears."
It would be lovely to end it there and say they all lived happily ever after, but we know better. Sarah and Hagar hated each other. Abraham did anything he could to avoid confrontation. The boy Ishmael, even before he was born, was predicted to be all but a juvenile delinquent or a gangster (Genesis 16:12).
Between the time of Ishmael's birth and the scene in this lesson, sixteen or seventeen years had elapsed, and a major miracle had taken place. About two-and-a-half years before, at the age of ninety, Sarah had given birth to Isaac, so as far as Sarah was concerned, the faster that Hagar and Ishmael could be removed, the better.
It was at a big family party celebrating one of those rites of passage -- the weaning of the child, the first step on his road to manhood, that Sarah got her chance. The Genesis account says, "Sarah saw that the son whom Hagar the Egyptian had borne to Abraham was mocking, and she said to Abraham, 'Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that slave woman's son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.' " What? For teasing the baby you get thrown out of the home? Permanent exile? Wow! Tough lady.
Father, Abraham would have shown himself worthy here of the reverence and respect shown him for centuries by three great religions. No. The story says that Abraham was displeased with the demand -- after all, Ishmael was his son. The boy might have been a bit of a handful, but a son is a son. For whatever it is worth, Abraham was able to justify being an incredible wimp and acceding to Sarah's demand by relying on God's promise that Ishmael would also become the source of a great nation. What could the man have been thinking? "Oh, gee, Lord, that puts my mind at ease. Now, I, a wealthy man, having the wherewithal to provide handsome support, can send them out into the desert with nothing but a loaf of bread and a skin of water and not give it a second thought." Right. That is what he did. Bread and water and bye-bye. "See ya, Hagar. It's been fun. Bye, Ishmael. You be a good boy, now, ya hear?" Father of the year ... not.
Hagar and Ishmael wander south to the wilderness near Beersheba. The food and water are soon gone. The strength of the teenager fails first. His mother puts him under a bush, out of the blazing desert sun. As the boy sinks toward death, his mother sits down about fifty yards away and waits for the inevitable.
Ishmael starts to cry. God hears ("Ishmael," remember?) and intervenes in this story one more time. Hagar opens her eyes and sees what seems to be an oasis. A mirage? Perhaps, but waving palm trees in the desert stand out against the stark background. Hagar gathers her waning strength and goes to see. Sure enough, it is water. She fills the goatskin and takes it back to Ishmael. He drinks, his parched lips are healed. He regains his strength.
As the story draws to a close, we get hints of a happily-ever-after ending. They continue to live in the desert. Ishmael becomes an expert archer. His mother finds him an Egyptian wife. The only time we ever hear of Ishmael and Isaac getting together again is to bury their father (Genesis 25:9). And the bad blood between the two sides of the family continues to this day: Jews look back to father Abraham through Isaac; Arabs look back to father Abraham through Ishmael. Father Abraham ... and such a wonderful father, at that!
Of course, what we have in scripture is not to be understood as instructions on good parenting. Frankly, the models we find there, whether it be Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, David, or whomever, are not award winners. Everyone is flawed and some of them horribly so. To be honest, these characters are just supporting cast for the real hero of the story: God. The single point of the Ishmael story is that there is no stopping God's promise. God made a promise to Abraham, and kept it. God made a promise to Hagar, and kept it. God made a promise of new life to you and me in Jesus Christ, and God will keep it. That is good news indeed.
The story is familiar enough. Abraham and Sarah are childless, a particular disaster in the ancient world since children stabilized that society -- they were a supply of labor, a promise of old-age security, and guarantors of the orderly transfer of property. Indeed, for a woman to fail to give her husband children was seen as a curse from God. But there was an alternative: surrogate motherhood. Custom of the day permitted a woman to claim as her own any children a servant girl might bear after a liaison with the master of the house. So, according to the Genesis record, with mistress Sarah's blessing (although I suspect it was given with a forced smile and through clenched teeth), Hagar became pregnant with Abraham's first child, Ishmael, a Hebrew name meaning "God hears."
It would be lovely to end it there and say they all lived happily ever after, but we know better. Sarah and Hagar hated each other. Abraham did anything he could to avoid confrontation. The boy Ishmael, even before he was born, was predicted to be all but a juvenile delinquent or a gangster (Genesis 16:12).
Between the time of Ishmael's birth and the scene in this lesson, sixteen or seventeen years had elapsed, and a major miracle had taken place. About two-and-a-half years before, at the age of ninety, Sarah had given birth to Isaac, so as far as Sarah was concerned, the faster that Hagar and Ishmael could be removed, the better.
It was at a big family party celebrating one of those rites of passage -- the weaning of the child, the first step on his road to manhood, that Sarah got her chance. The Genesis account says, "Sarah saw that the son whom Hagar the Egyptian had borne to Abraham was mocking, and she said to Abraham, 'Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that slave woman's son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.' " What? For teasing the baby you get thrown out of the home? Permanent exile? Wow! Tough lady.
Father, Abraham would have shown himself worthy here of the reverence and respect shown him for centuries by three great religions. No. The story says that Abraham was displeased with the demand -- after all, Ishmael was his son. The boy might have been a bit of a handful, but a son is a son. For whatever it is worth, Abraham was able to justify being an incredible wimp and acceding to Sarah's demand by relying on God's promise that Ishmael would also become the source of a great nation. What could the man have been thinking? "Oh, gee, Lord, that puts my mind at ease. Now, I, a wealthy man, having the wherewithal to provide handsome support, can send them out into the desert with nothing but a loaf of bread and a skin of water and not give it a second thought." Right. That is what he did. Bread and water and bye-bye. "See ya, Hagar. It's been fun. Bye, Ishmael. You be a good boy, now, ya hear?" Father of the year ... not.
Hagar and Ishmael wander south to the wilderness near Beersheba. The food and water are soon gone. The strength of the teenager fails first. His mother puts him under a bush, out of the blazing desert sun. As the boy sinks toward death, his mother sits down about fifty yards away and waits for the inevitable.
Ishmael starts to cry. God hears ("Ishmael," remember?) and intervenes in this story one more time. Hagar opens her eyes and sees what seems to be an oasis. A mirage? Perhaps, but waving palm trees in the desert stand out against the stark background. Hagar gathers her waning strength and goes to see. Sure enough, it is water. She fills the goatskin and takes it back to Ishmael. He drinks, his parched lips are healed. He regains his strength.
As the story draws to a close, we get hints of a happily-ever-after ending. They continue to live in the desert. Ishmael becomes an expert archer. His mother finds him an Egyptian wife. The only time we ever hear of Ishmael and Isaac getting together again is to bury their father (Genesis 25:9). And the bad blood between the two sides of the family continues to this day: Jews look back to father Abraham through Isaac; Arabs look back to father Abraham through Ishmael. Father Abraham ... and such a wonderful father, at that!
Of course, what we have in scripture is not to be understood as instructions on good parenting. Frankly, the models we find there, whether it be Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, David, or whomever, are not award winners. Everyone is flawed and some of them horribly so. To be honest, these characters are just supporting cast for the real hero of the story: God. The single point of the Ishmael story is that there is no stopping God's promise. God made a promise to Abraham, and kept it. God made a promise to Hagar, and kept it. God made a promise of new life to you and me in Jesus Christ, and God will keep it. That is good news indeed.
