A Sermon by the Rev'd Deacon Ed Richards for 2 Lent
God's third enunciation of the covenant with Abram gives both Abram and the eavesdropping congregation a chance to explore the difference between faith and knowledge. The writer of Genesis made a point of telling us that Abram was seventy-five years old when God first came to him in Haran back in Chapter 12. Abram was eighty-six when Ishmael was born, the heir apparent of God's promise, renewed in Genesis 15. Now Abram is ninety-nine years old, listening to God repeat the promise of a son for the third time (nullifying Ishmael in the process). Twenty-four years have passed since Abram first heard this promise. If God had taken this long with Mary, she might have had gray hair by the time her baby came.
Abram and Sarai have not been sitting still through this long period. They have had ample opportunity to learn to trust God without knowing for sure how things will turn out. This trust led them to leave their home in Haran without a map to the land of promise. It allowed them to endure the grim vision of what lay in store for their descendants in the land of Egypt. It may even have been what saved their marriage after Abram convinced Sarai to lie to and with) Pharaoh in order to protect Abram's life!
This old couple is deeply flawed, yet they have remained faithful to God's promise. With no evidence that they will ever be parents of a single child, much less the parents of a nation, they have continued in relationship with God and one another. Their trust is unconditional. In years to come, three distinct religions will spring from this trust, claiming Abraham as their grandfather in faith. Their grandmothers will be different, but not their covenant with God. God will be their God, and they will be God's people.
In today's theophany, Abram and Sarai receive the divine renewal of that covenant, along with brand-new names: Abraham, father of a multitude; and Sarah, princess. For once, Sarah's participation is neither assumed nor implied. God makes her a full partner in this enterprise, both by giving her a name and by promising her a blessing of her own.
She is ninety, by biblical reckoning. Her husband is ninety-nine. Yet only now is their long engagement with God nearing its end. Their name changes signal both the ripeness of the relationship and its permanence. Biblical parallels include Jacob (renamed Israel) and Hoshea (who became Joshua). Contemporary parallels include not only marriage but also religious naming ceremonies at birth, circumcision, baptism, and puberty. Kings, queens, and popes often take new names to signify their new status, as do those who enter religious life through the profession of monastic vows. In every case, the new name signals new purpose.
Abraham and Sarah have no say-so in the matter. They do not choose their new names; God does. Yet God does not stand aloof from the name-change ceremony. "I am God Almighty," the Lord says to Abram at the opening of this chapter. English readers who check their footnotes will discover that this is the traditional rendering of the Hebrew El Shaddai, used here for the first time in Torah. Thus God gains a new name along with God's covenant partners ("I, El Shaddai, take thee Abraham and Sarah …"). In short order, this union will produce a son, the long-awaited Isaac.
This is the front story in today's passage, but there are backstories as well. In one commentary on Genesis, Terence Fretheim suggests that this is not a renewal of the covenant with Abraham but a revision of it. Ishmael has been Abraham's only son for thirteen years. For undisclosed reasons, he and his mother Hagar are now being replaced. Sarah is about to become the mother of note. Yet even as the biblical writers describe Hagar's and Ishmael's displacement, God's care for them remains consistent. Although Sarah will see to it that they are banished from Abraham's tent, God promises them a future too. God has more than one blessing to bestow.
Another backstory is the establishment of male circumcision as the sign of the covenant. The first two iterations of the covenant largely concern what God will do for Abraham: God will show him the way to a new land, will make of him a great nation, will bless him and make his name great. God will give him descendants as numerous as the stars. Only here does God mention what Abraham and his descendants will do for God: "Every male among you shall be circumcised". Torah offers no rationale for this commandment, but it is nonnegotiable. Those who fail to be circumcised will have broken the covenant .
One can only guess why these verses have been left out of the lectionary. Perhaps the subject matter was deemed too explicit for public worship? Whatever the reason, the omission deprives hearers of imagining Abraham's response to this new development in the covenant. His faithfulness will now require more of him than simply answering to his new name. He is about to become bodily involved. On the second Sunday of Lent, this point merits attention. We do not head straight to Easter from the spa or the shopping mall. Instead, we are invited to spend forty days examining the nature of our own covenant with God. Upon what does that relationship depend? What do we trust to give us life? What concrete practices allow us to become bodily involved with God? If we were to ask God for a new name, what might that name be? What new purpose might that name signify?
While Lent focuses naturally on the example of Jesus, Jesus focused just as naturally on the example of Abraham. Like his forebear in faith, Jesus walked toward God's promise with steady trust, leading God to give him a new name too: "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."