A Tale of Two Brothers
Genesis 21:8-21
Sunday June 25th, 2023
Rev. Rhonda Blevins, pastor
The child grew and was weaned, and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, “Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.” The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. But God said to Abraham, “Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named for you. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring.” So Abraham rose early in the morning and took bread and a skin of water and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.
When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot, for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. And God heard the voice of the boy, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid, for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water. She went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink.
God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness and became an expert with the bow. He lived in the wilderness of Paran, and his mother got a wife for him from the land of Egypt.
______
[After setting up a large, standing mirror . . . ]
It seems to me that sometimes, when we study these ancient stories from the Bible, they can seem so distant. What possible use for us, as modern people, do these ancient stories hold? How do these ancient stories help us live our lives in the here and now?
I’ve placed before you a mirror because, if we look at these ancient stories, we can often see ourselves in them. And sometimes, the experience of seeing ourselves in the mirror is innocuous, same old face you’ve seen in the mirror nearly every day of your life. But occasionally, looking in the mirror can be discomforting, shocking even. Like the middle age guy who has never seen the top of his head goes into a store—one of those stores that have the security camera screens placed where customers can see them. And he suddenly realized that the bald guy on the security camera screen is actually him!
This week someone held up a metaphorical mirror to me—I experienced a bit of surprising self-awareness.
My good friend lost her father this past week after a long battle with cancer. And in the days that followed, she texted me, asking me if I knew anyone who needed medical supplies: a hospital bed, a walker, a bedside commode and disposable briefs to name a few. I told her I didn’t know of anyone who needed a hospital bed or a walker or a bedside commode, but that I would take the disposable briefs, telling her that we keep them here at the church as a convenience for people. She told her brother my reply, who responded, “She must give really long sermons.”
Is that why we keep adult diapers here? Come on, tell me the truth.
Looking in the mirror and discovering some truth about ourselves can be enlightening and uncomfortable all at the same time.
So as we reflect on this story from ancient writ today, this “Tale of Two Brothers,” I invite you to consider: is there a character that resonates with you? Is there someone in this holy story that reminds you of your life or your circumstance or some truth God wants you to see about yourself that, perhaps, you haven’t seen before?
Let’s dive in.
For context, you may remember (from last week’s sermon) that God has promised to make a great nation from Abraham. But he and his wife have struggled with infertility. By the time Sarah is 75 or 76 years old, she’s done waiting for God to fulfill this promise. Sarah took matters into her own hands. She suggested her own handmaid, Hagar, as a surrogate to fulfil God’s promise. And nine months later or so, Ishmael was born, not quite the apple of his father’s eye and the bane of Sarah’s existence.
But God was true to God’s word, and some 13 years later Sarah gave birth to Isaac, which means “laughter” in Hebrew. And the angels sang! And there was rejoicing in heaven! Alleluia! “Laughter” was born!
But it wasn’t enough that “Laughter” was born. As we will discover, Sarah’s jealousy and hatred of Ishmael festered and grew and burned within her.
Now it’s roughly three years after Isaac’s birth, the typical age of weaning among the ancient Hebrew people. So we have five characters in this story:
· Isaac, about age three. The legitimate son of Abraham and Sarah.
· Ishmael, age sixteen or so. The son of Abraham and Hagar, Sarah’s handmaid.
· Hagar. We don’t know how old handmaid, Hagar, is.
· Sarah. About 92-years-old.
· Abraham. Now roughly 102-years-old.
So with Isaac at roughly three-years-old and Ishmael sixteen, Sarah witnesses the despised Ishmael teasing her beloved Isaac. And she snaps. She’s been stewing for three years about the idea of her beloved, Isaac, having to share an inheritance with that handmaid’s illegitimate son. So she snaps. She demands that Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away. Forever. Abraham is distraught about this, as he’s had sixteen years with his firstborn, Ishmael. But he’s in a tight spot. He sends Hagar and sixteen-year-old Ishmael away.
I happen to have a sixteen-year-old son at my house. My first-born son, Jake. And as I’ve been thinking about this story, I’ve thought about Abraham sending his firstborn away. Earlier this week, my sixteen-year-old said something smart to his mama. And I said, “This week I’ve been studying the story from the Bible about Abraham and his sixteen-year-old son, Ishmael. And you know what Abraham did? He sent Ishmael packing! Don’t make me go biblical on you!”
Some days. Some days it’s tempting. J
So with a little bread and a skin of water, Hagar and Ishmael set off into the desert. And when it seemed that they would die of dehydration, Hagar fell to her knees and pleaded with God to spare her son. And God spoke to Hagar, promising Hagar to make a great nation from Ishmael.
It is widely believed that Ishmael became the father of the Arab nation. There is no scholarly consensus on this. But this certainly fits the biblical narrative. Isaac: the firstborn of the Hebrew people. Ishmael: the progenitor of the Arab nation. And the conflict remains to this day.
Let’s consider each character, and as we do so, I invite you to “look in the mirror” and ask if you can see yourself in any of these storylines.
Isaac, the golden boy. The promised one. Born with a silver spoon in his hand, Isaac’s life, so far, has been pretty great. His every want attended. His every need provided. Isaac has wanted for nothing. And in that privilege, Isaac is oblivious to the suffering of his brother, the injustice suffered by Hagar.
I think Isaac is the perfect archetype for everyone born into privilege. It’s hard to see when we’ve been born into privilege, because certainly everyone suffers. Isaac will know suffering in the chapters ahead. But not yet. He has not yet awakened to his privilege. And to no fault of his own. Because he has not awakened to his privilege, he is happy, happy to be oblivious to the suffering of his own kindred.
Isaac with his silver spoon. Do you see yourself in Isaac’s story today?
Ishmael, with his empty skin of water. Cast off. Rejected. Cut off from his father’s love. His inheritance given to another. If he finds his way, it will be through sheer grit and determination, and possibly only through God’s intervention. Ishmael is likely experiencing some pretty strong emotions, as he’s sixteen-years-old—old enough to figure out exactly what’s happening. Anger, sorrow, fear.
Can you find yourself in Ishmael’s story? Have you known rejection? From a parent, a sibling, a spouse, a friend, a job? Sent on your way, cut off? Most of us have known rejection, and how brutal it can feel.
Ishmael, with his empty skin. Do you see yourself in Ishmael’s story today?
Hagar, with her flowing tears. Enslaved. Then abused. Powerless over her fate. Nothing has gone her way in life except one thing. She loves her son, Ishmael. Ill-begotten, but hers. And now he’s about to die, and she’s desperate. She pleads with God to spare her son’s life.
This, to me, is the saddest of the five stories we encounter today. There’s a powerlessness and a desperation in Hagar, known to most of us at some point in our lives. Hagar is in that moment in time when there’s nothing left she can do except fall on her knees and plead for God’s intervention.
Hagar, with her flowing tears. Do you see yourself in Hagar’s story today?
Sarah, with her eyes, green with envy. To me, the hardest character to empathize with in this story. To be fair, she’s had her share of heartache and suffering along the way. The decades of infertility. Her husband giving her to powerful men, twice, to save his own neck. Life, with its many challenges, has a way of softening some and hardening others. Sarah, it seems to me, became hardened and cold. The compassion that God showed her, she could not extend to her son’s older brother.
There are a lot of people, it seems to me, who aren’t interested in extending compassion to “the least of these.” With a mindset of scarcity, they worry about sharing resources, like Sarah was worried about sharing an inheritance with Ishmael. So she cut him off. Sent him away.
Sarah, with her eyes, green with envy. Do you see yourself in Sarah’s story today?
Abraham, between a rock and a hard place. Today’s story is not a good look on Abraham. This is his son—his sixteen-year-old son—that he sends into the desert with nothing more than a bit of bread and a skin of water. But, to be fair, Sarah puts him in a tough position. Her action causes his equal and opposite reaction. Disobey her command, and he’s at odds with his wife. Do as she says, and he loses his son. He sees only this binary choice. He does not seem to consider any third way. So he banishes Ishmael. Forever.
There are times in everyone’s life in which we feel like we’re between a rock and a hard place. Neither pathway before us is a path we want to take, but there we find ourselves.
Abraham, between a rock and a hard place. Do you see yourself in Abraham’s story today?
And that’s our five story lines. If you try, you can almost envision how a movie director might tell this same story, five different ways, through the vantage point of these five characters.
Now I invite you to take a hard look in the mirror. I know—it’s not fun. But like the middle age guy discovering his bald patch in the security camera video, here’s a chance to discover something about ourselves:
· Are you like Isaac? Oblivious with a silver spoon of privilege?
· Are you more like Ishmael? Cut off and cast away with an empty skin?
· Are you more like Hagar? Pleading for God’s intervention with her free-flowing tears?
· Are you more like Sarah? Unwilling to let the marginalized have a share with her eyes, green with envy?
· Are you more like Abraham? Two bad decisions before him, caught between a rock and hard place?
If you had to pick one of these stories, only one, that depicts your life at this moment, which story would you choose? AND, might we learn from our forebears, and find a better way than what they chose?
If what tradition holds is true, and Isaac was indeed the firstborn of the Hebrew nation and Ishmael was the firstborn of the Arab nation, and given the centuries, even millennia, of warring between them, then what if—WHAT IF—those in power (namely Sarah and Abraham) made a different choice? What peace might the world have known?
There’s an old story about two brothers who had adjoining farms. For years, they worked in peace, with complete cooperation, sharing tools, providing mutual support and help whenever needed. But one day they had an argument, and from that day forward, the conflict between the two brothers only grew. Bitter, spiteful words followed by a prolonged, hostile silence. This went on for years.
One day a carpenter turned up at the door of the older brother.
“I am looking for work,” the carpenter said to the older brother. “I have traveled for days in search of work. I would be most grateful if you could give me a job to do for you. I am very skilled and I have all my tools with me.”
The brother thought for a bit, and an idea flashed in his mind.
The older brother said to the carpenter, “My brother’s farm is next to mine. A creek runs between our farms. We don’t get along anymore. So I want you to build a fence, at least eight feet high, around the edge of my farm. That way my brother can’t think of making any mischief to harm my farm. You can use the pile of lumber over by the barn. Make it nice and strong. I will come in the evening to check on your progress.”
The carpenter replied, “Yes sir! I think I understand your problem. I will do my best.”
The carpenter went to work. Whenever the older brother checked on him, he saw the carpenter hard at work. He was happy and satisfied. But a few days later when the older brother went back to check on how the work was progressing, he was in for a surprise. The work was nearly finished. But it was not what he had asked of the carpenter.
Instead of building a fence, the carpenter had built a bridge between the two farms.
Now, when the younger brother saw this, he was overcome with remorse. He came over to the older brother and embraced him. “I am so sorry.” He said to him. “By building this bridge, you showed that you have a bigger heart.”
The older brother had tears in his eyes. He thanked the carpenter for his work.
“I think my work here is done,” said the carpenter as he smiled, and gathered his tools.
“But I have some more work for you,” said the older brother to him.
“I am sorry,” said the carpenter. “I must be on my way now. There are many more bridges to build.”[1]
Friends, wherever you find yourself in this story:
· Silver spoon,
· Empty skin,
· Flowing tears,
· Eyes green with envy,
· Between a rock and a hard place,
The way forward—the way of love and the way of compassion—is never the wall. It’s always the bridge. Forgiveness, grace, mercy, kindness is the bridge we all need. And if there is no bridge, then get busy building one.
[1] https://www.touchonelife.org/the-bridge-of-forgiveness/