Genesis 17:1-7, 15-17 "The Chrysalis has Cracked"

        Abraham is one of our best-known and most colorful Old Testament Biblical characters.  He is the root from which Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all spring – the common source for the existence for the Big Three of world religions.  From orthodox Jews in their broad-brimmed black hats and beards to reformed Jews with their yarmulkes, from right wing fundamentalists to progressive Christians, from conservative and violent jihadists to moderate peace-keeping imams, they all originate from this Biblical icon named Abraham. 

         Abraham is the one who was all set to sacrifice his beloved and long awaited son Isaac at God’s bidding as a sign of his faith.  He is the one who fed dinner long after dark to three strangers, only to find that, in doing so, he had welcomed angels unaware.  He is the one with whom God chose to covenant, to have a special relationship with, on behalf of the humanity God had once created generations before. 

        However, prior to all those events transpiring, Abraham was the one called Abram.  He was married to a woman named Sarai.  He was an ancient senior citizen when we meet him in these verses we just read – one year shy of 100 with his wife not far behind. 

         In decades past – 25 years according to the Genesis tradition – God had told Abram to pack up his belongings, his wife, his sheep, goats, slaves, and servants.  God had instructed Abram to take them all and leave the Land of Ur, the place they called home. 

         If Abram was wondering why God had given such an unsettling and disruptive direction, it was because, along with the command, God promised Abram his own land and descendants:  Land because without it there was no place to graze one’s animals or pitch one’s tent to call home; descendants because without them – especially without sons – the family name would disappear in the blink of an eye. 

         But to date, lo those 2 ½ decades later, nothing had happened.  Abram and Sarai, his out-of-wedlock son Ishmael along with the child’s slave mother Hagar, their sheep and goats, and various servant, slaves, and hangers on were still wandering throughout the Middle East, even though they had faithfully obeyed God and left Ur on little more than a wing and a prayer.  In addition and perhaps even more vexing, Abram and Sarai still had no child of their own.

         By the time we meet up with the couple, land and descendants seemed less a sacred promise and more a flash of holy humor.  At his advanced age, Abram was tired of wandering year after year in the desert.  Moreover, with both Abram and Sarai deep into retirement, becoming parents would logically seem to be physically impossible – if not emotionally and psychologically taxing to boot. Being near centenarians, they were no longer spring chickens – even by Biblical standards!  Can you blame them if, after all these years of heartbreak, disappointment, and hard knocks, they found themselves scanning the horizon for the local retirement community and not the nearest birthing center?

         And yet, God appeared to Abram once more in these verses we read and reiterated the preposterous covenant promises.  “I promise that you will be the ancestor of many nations.  The whole land of Canaan will be yours.” Can’t have a nation without land, right? 

 “I will give you many descendants – more than all the grains of sand in the sea, more than all the stars in the sky.  And I will give you even more.  Sarai will bear a son.” Can’t have a family tree without kids, right?

         But Abram had heard all this before, right?  Maybe it is no wonder that this time he bowed so low in response that he rubbed his face in the dirt, quite likely to hide his giggles and guffaw.     Mennonite preacher Leo Hartshorn imagined Abram’s response and wrote in his blog, “You’ve got to be pulling our leg, God!  That’s a joke, right?  A multitude of nations from two old geezers without kids?  Stop!  You’re making me laugh!” 

         “Can a man have a son when he is a hundred years old?”  Abram asks, snorting back his laughter.  “Can my wife have a child at ninety? Yeah, yeah.  I’ve heard this before, God, like 25 years ago.  If you had not noticed, the wife and I are not getting any younger, and besides, these old legs are tired of walking.”

         As Reformed pastor Scott Hoezee writes, “You all know…the old college friend (let’s call him Floyd) who, every time you see him (which is only about once every other year or so), swears that he’s going to give you a call because, hey, isn’t it high time we had dinner and got caught up on each other’s lives!? ‘I’ll call you this week, and this time I really will!’

         But then he never does and so, although you know exactly what he’ll say eighteen months down the road when you bump into Floyd again, you won’t believe him. Maybe the first time or two you took the promised dinner seriously, but after a while you cannot help but chalk it up as ‘just talk.’”

         But God, of course, understands the situation differently.  “Land?  A child? Why not,” God replies to Abram, brimming with holy confidence.  “And, by the way (not missing a beat), you must name this son, Isaac” (which in Hebrew means “laugher”).

         And just to make it clear that God meant business and had no intention of backing away from those decades old promises, God told Abram that he and his wife would take on new names – a big deal back in those days – far more than a nickname.  He would be named Abraham, which means “the father of many” or “Big Daddy.”  And, in turn, Sarai would become Sarah, which means “Princess” or “One who gives birth to royalty.” 

        In the verses of this chapter of Genesis that we did not read, God goes on to demand circumcision as a physical sign of the covenant or special relationship that Abraham and his descendants will have with God.  And so, at the tender age of ninety, Abraham is circumcised along with his son Ishmael and all the male slaves, servants, and hangers on.

         With new names, new signs, and restored promises, God has called Abraham and Sarah, once and for all, out of their comfortable places.  The chrysalis is cracked.  They have been opened.  There is no possibility of turning back now. 

         And so it is for us.  You see, Abraham and Sarah are especially good role models for our faith journeys.  Though we are not circumcised as male Jews still are, we who are Christians reaffirm that special relationship with God when we are baptized and given a new name, “Child of God.”  It is a one-time physical sign of God’s promises. 

         And then there is the sacrament of communion, which we will share together today, where we regularly embrace God’s presence in our lives even as we remember the life-giving ministry of Jesus. This simple sharing of bread and cup calls forth a covenant that began with that Old Testament codger Abraham, way back when, who was nearing his 100^th birthday.

         We maintain that covenant with our God who constantly surprises.  It is a covenant with our God of endless possibilities.  It is a covenant with our God who, no matter who we are or where we are on our life’s journey, believes in us and in our ability to usher in God’s dream for a transformed world, a dream that we call the Kingdom or Realm of God. 

         God was not through with Abraham and Sarah even though they both were closing in on a century of birthdays.  Likewise, God is not through with any of us yet either. 

         I remember attending a college reunion once and listening to some of Joe’s and my baby boomer classmates analyze and discuss the world’s problems far into the night.  Many of them were slumped in comfortable couches, with a craft beer or glass of wine in hand.      These were women and men who had come of age during the Viet Nam protests, been followers and workers for Ralph Nader, and had ushered in the first Earth Day.  They had been raised on activism and yet now felt that activism was for another generation. They were done.  They were tired.  

         I am certainly hoping that they feel differently since November’s election, but I am not so sure.  They were pretty set in their ways and their belief that their days of involvement were over.  Change was the responsibility of someone else now.  They felt and, frankly, were acting old.

         How sad!  At least, that is what I think.  You see, I believe that we are always called to be engaged with the world and to take action – no matter our age.  I believe that, as Christians, we are expected to participate in transforming the world – and ourselves – no matter how tired we feel.  I believe that each one of us can – and must - continue to contribute something to the world – no matter how useless we might have been led to believe we are.  Each one of us needs to embrace our gifts (and we all do have gifts) and share them in the name of Christ for a better world. 

         Maybe we volunteer stacking food in the food pantry.  Maybe we blog.  Maybe we write to our Senators and Representatives on an ongoing basis. Maybe we begin a new mission project – weatherizing homes or assessing the needs of the elderly in our communities.  Maybe we referee youth soccer or umpire at Little League games.  Maybe we help people do their taxes or build a sustainable personal budget.  Maybe we do something that we have not even thought of yet.  And if we are not doing anything, God calls us to do something.

         God did not let Abraham use the excuse of old age – or a busy schedule – or a tendency to procrastination – or feeling too tired.  God did not let Abraham off the hook, even at the Biblically impressive age of 99, nor does God let us off-the-hook either.  The chrysalis has cracked.  We have been opened. There is no turning back now.