God Sees. God Hears. God Blesses
Genesis 21:1-21
Eyeglasses clem-onojeghuo-143743 from www.unsplash.com
What does it mean to you, as a human being, when someone sees you? When you, as a human being, really see someone else? How do you know that you are really being seen?In the 20009 science fiction movie Avatar, the alien people, the Na’Vi, greet each other this way: “I see you.” “Like mystics here on Earth, the Na’Vi have an experience of unity of consciousness with other beings, all of which (themselves included) are really just manifestations of one Being, which they call Ai’wa.”[1] Now on some level, one can argue that this is like people of faith who say to each other, “the God in me sees—and acknowledges—the God in you.” Or as we say in yoga, “Namaste.”Now I don’t mean that we are all gods. Yet there is God’s DNA in each of us. It is this spiritual connection that offers the potential of seeing and of being seen. In today’s Old Testament stories from Genesis, we have some clear examples of people who see and do not see each other. People who hear and do not hear each other. People who allow their own selfishness and jealousy to push aside compassion and welcome for the other.Last week, we reflected on the story of three angels who visited Abraham and Sarah. The LORD promised that in their old age, they would finally have an heir. You may remember that as Sarah overheard the divine visitor promise this, she laughed in disbelief. Yet there is nothing “too wonderful for the LORD,”so the next year, Isaac was born. Isaac’s name means “He laughs.” So the baby laughter of Isaac joins the childish laughter of Ishmael, the son born to Abraham and Hagar, his Egyptian slave.When Isaac is weaned, Abraham throws a big party to celebrate, because in the ancient world, a baby’s survival to childhood merits celebration. Yet on this feast day, Sarah sees Ishmael, Hagar’s son. But she does not see him in a positive way. What is Ishmael doing? Laughing. Probably enjoying the feast, along with everyone else. Yet as Sarah watches Ishmael, she does not see a happy teenager. Instead, she sees the heir-apparent—someone to threaten the future of her own son.
According to their law, the first-born son is the real heir of his father’s wealth—even the son of a slave. Ishmael—not Isaac—legally will get a double portion of his father’s blessing and his land. He is Abraham’s son, after all.Resentment, anger and jealousy flare in Sarah. No doubt she remembers how Hagar taunted her when Hagar became pregnant, and Sarah couldn’t have children. So Sarah demands that Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away.Where? Where are they to go? This tribe of people lives out in the desert. Sources of food and water are scarce out there. Scripture tells us, “The matter distressed Abraham greatly, for it concerned a son of his.” Remember that Ishmael was born when Abraham was eighty-six. We can imagine that over the past thirteen years, Abraham and Ishmael have forged a deep bond. After all, until those three divine messengers appeared at the tent last year, Ishmael has been Abraham’s only son.Now, Abraham must make a very painful decision—although next week, we will see that it’s not the only painful decision he will make about one of his sons.Sarah does not want to see Ishmael or Hagar at all. Ever again. She wants them out of her sight. Totally. In fact, when she demands that Abraham cast them out, she won’t even call Hagar by name. Instead, she reduces both Hagar and Ishmael to non-people by calling them “that slave-woman and her son.” Those people, you know.Yet God reassures Abraham that God will protect Ishmael and make of him a nation. So early the next morning, Abraham gives Hagar some bread and a skin full of water—precious few provisions with which to deal with the terrible heat and blinding sun of a desert. Thus Hagar and Ishmael wander until the child is at the point of dying of thirst—which would not take long.Of course Hagar does not want to watch, to see her son die. No mother wants that. So she leaves him—but she does not go too far. Only a bow-shot away. Out of desperation, the slave-woman cries—and obviously the boy cries— however weak his cries are by now.Yet God sees. God hears. God blesses, with a response to Hagar. God tells her to go get the boy. God opens Hagar’s eyes in a new way. She sees a well of water. Thus is Ishmael saved. Thus the nation of Ishmaelites—Arabs—is born. What is the first thing this slave-woman does—this woman with no rights and no voice? Hagar does what his father should have done. She takes Ishmael to Egypt, back to her homeland where she can find a wife for him from her own people. She finds the courage to make this long, treacherous journey home for the sake of her son.One of the ironies in this story goes back thirteen years. Hagar was pregnant and she ran away from an abusive Sarah.An angel appeared in the desert. Told Hagar to go back home, to have this baby, to name him Ishmael. You may not remember this, but in that passage, God does not name Hagar. Instead, Hagar named God. El-Roi. God of seeing. So this experience with God in the desert now is not the first time Hagar has encountered a God who sees. A God who hears. A God who blesses.As I have read, re-read, and reflected on this passage from Genesis, I have thought about how you and I see, and hear, each other. Or not. Sometimes a family member says to me, “You aren’t listening to me. You’re pretending to, but you really are not listening to me.” And yes, sometimes that is true. My mind is elsewhere—usually something going on in the parish—so I am doing that “Uh, huh” thing that mothers or spouses do. Guilty as charged. So I have really been working on doing better for my family, because they deserve my full presence, just as parishioners do. I see you. I hear you. How life-giving this can be.
To return to the example I used earlier, the movie Avatar used the expression “I see you.” Yet this concept did not begin with this movie. This week, I read about a man named Terry Tilghman, who shared his own experience about an actual African custom that involves “I see you.” Tilghman writes the following:
Image from movie Avatar accessed through Google images
“About twenty years ago I was on a safari in Africa (Kenya, Tanzania and Rwanda.) As we traveled through the villages and Serengeti savanna, I noticed a recurring event. When one of the indigenous people would approach each other, they would pause, face each other, look directly in each others’ eyes for five to fifteen seconds, say something and then continue on their way. This would happen in populated villages and in very remote areas where there may be only one human every twenty square miles. After a couple weeks of noticing this I asked one of our guides from the Samburu tribe what the natives were doing. He said they were greeting each other. ‘How are they doing that? What are they saying?’ I asked. One of them says, ‘I see you.’ Connecting through the eyes, the other replies, ‘I am here.’”[2] I see you. I hear you. I am here—totally present. I honor and bless the God who lives in you, just as God lives in me.We do not have to look far to find human beings who do not see each other, or hear each other. Democrats versus Republicans in Congress. Liberals versus conservatives posting on Facebook pages. Medical doctors who look at patients as a diagnosis instead of as whole human beings. Even you and I who deal with rush-hour Beltway traffic. Do we really see each other? Do we really hear each other, as God’s created beings? Not so much. Even in the Church, we do not have to look far to find established folks who care more about the way we’ve always done things than in opening hearts to new possibilities in ministries.Perhaps the challenge is that if I really see you, really hear you, I might have to open myself up to new ways of being. That includes really seeing the new person who might have come in today and sat in the pew near you. That person is worthy of being seen and heard. At the very least, that person wants God to see and hear them, but that can happen “out there.” You don’t need church for that. It is “in here” that demands more of you and me. Yes, that is admittedly scary for some folks. Yet it is what God calls us to do. In fact, maybe God calls us to look at folks in our lives, to see and him them in new ways.I see you. I hear you. I bless you. How might we do this? Here is some food for thought.What if there is a person “out there” who really wants, really needs to be seen, heard, and blessed within this particular community of faith called St. Philip’s? A parish family that gives them space to worship and to grow in their faith—wherever that faith is right now in their spiritual journey? A space where their questions are welcome? A space that offers deep, radical hospitality?I would like you to take a moment and think about the people in your life. Your best friend. A neighbor. Someone in your office with whom you’ve had conversations about spirituality. Someone who rides the same train you do. Someone who carpools with you. What would happen if you invited one person to come to St. Philip’s with you next week? Let’s say you say this:“Why don’t you come to St. Philip’s with me next Sunday—then I’ll treat you to breakfast (or lunch) afterwards!” That person would get some quiet time to think and reflect, a place of welcome, and some good conversation at breakfast or lunch. Who might you invite? Think about that. Now jot a couple of names in your bulletin. Take your bulletin home. Text or call someone this week, and bring them with you next week. Introduce them to at least two people at coffee hour. Here is how we see and hear each other. One person at a time.I see you. I hear you. I bless you. The God in me sees, hears, and blesses the God in you. Within such blessing, out of such blessing, the world can be changed, to the glory of God. Amen.[1] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jay-michaelson/the-meaning-of-avatar-eve_b_400912.html.[2] http://www.finerminds.com/consciousness-awareness/samburu-greeting-terry-tillman/Picture of icon of sarah_hagar_abraham accessed through Google images.