Holy Abundance

And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.”18:7 Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. 18:8 Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate [Genesis 18:6-8, NRSV].

Let me repeat for you a story, a story you’ve no doubt already heard. It’s about a couple who lived several thousand years ago. His name was Abraham. Her’s was Sarah. For most of their lives they had been known as Abram and Sarai. By the time of the mysterious events described in the alternate first reading for this upcoming Sunday, the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost—Genesis 18-1-10a (RCL, Year C)—we see that Abraham is 99 years old; Sarah is a spry 90. They are wealthy, but they are childless. Things were supposed to be different. Years earlier Yahweh had promised that they would have a son. Moreover, Yahweh had promised that their offspring would be more numerous than the stars. They were smart enough to know they’d never live long enough to see the promise come to full fruition. It would have been nice, however, if they had been given the son.

To be sure, they had thought Yahweh might need some help with the promise and so—at Sarah’s suggestion no less—there was that unfortunate liaison between Abraham and Sarah’s servant, Hagar, which had produced Ishmael. He was now ten years old—a suitable heir for some, but Yahweh kept telling Abraham that his blessing was to come through a son produced by Sarah. The couple thought that some things, like money and livestock, are manageable. Other situations are quite literally impossible. A son through Sarah. The last time Abraham had heard that promise, he had fallen on the ground laughing [Genesis 17:17].

And so, we turn to this week’s alternate OT lesson. The closer one reads it, the more confusing it can become. From the narrator’s viewpoint, “The LORD appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day” [Genesis 18:1]. Yet when Abraham looks up, he sees not a solitary figure, but three men standing near him [18:2]. Some have suggested that Abraham is unwittingly gazing upon the Trinity. That’s, however, a discussion for another day.

In Abraham’s day, hospitality, particularly the sort of hospitality shown to a stranger, was serious business. Failure to treat a stranger well might literally result in his (or her) death. Abraham feigns modesty, saying, “Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves …” [18:5a]. He runs to Sarah with different instructions, telling her to prepare three measures of the finest flour and make not just bread, but cakes. Three measures is enough flour to make more than 50 loaves of bread and cakes as well. And, since man shall not live by bread alone, Abraham also has one of his servants separate out a calf, “tender and good,” and “hasten” to prepare it [18:7]. Even that isn’t enough. Abraham has someone else prepare curds and milk and all this—this marvelous feast—is set before these still unknown strangers.

As we wade our way through the story, we see the lavish abundance that is on display. Three loaves and cakes would have sufficed for the visitors; instead, we get 50. Some beef might have been nice. Why have beef when veal is available? And the curds and milk—did I forget to mention the curds and milk?

What we have on display is abundance, the sort of abundance that seems only possible with well-heeled men like Abraham, who have always been careful with their investments, who have always made the most of each situation. Abraham might well have told these strangers, after being complimented on the dinner spread that he had provided, “Well, you should have seen how I handled ole Pharaoh. You know, I had to tell him that my wife was my sister …. The loot I came away with—now that was true abundance.” As I say, this is the sort of abundance that one would expect when one encounters a sincere, serious (old) man like Abraham.

And yet, there is unexpected abundance, the sort that is so unexpected, so unmerited, so overwhelming, that one is—as a British friend would say—“totally gobsmacked.”

For at the conclusion of the feast, the visitors then ask [in unison?], “Where is your wife Sarah?” [18:9]. Here’s a strong hint that these aren’t mere strangers. How do “they” know her name?

Abraham, a little slow on the draw, allows that she’s in the other tent. The Genesis author doesn’t say it this way, but I suppose Abe’s thinking, “She and her servants have just baked 50 loaves of bread (plus cakes), roasted a calf, and set out curds and milk as a grand feast. I suspect that they’re back there with their feet up.” In just a few verses, however, we’ll learn that Sarah is standing just outside the door of Abraham’s tent, where she can hear their conversations.

Well, getting back to abundance, but not of the human variety, it’s here that this week’s reading takes a curious, head-scratching turn. One of them says to Abraham, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah will have a son” [18:10a]. The Lectionary’s reading ends here, but most of us, giving a nod to Paul Harvey, “know the rest of the story.”

Sarah, standing at the tent door, laughs when she hears that she will become pregnant. She’s heard that one before. When confronted by Yahweh, whose identity is still strangely hidden from the couple—although not from us—she denies her frivolity, but Yahweh retorts, “Oh yes, you did laugh” [18:15b]. And, of course, we know who got the last laugh, for within the year, she has her son, as Yahweh had promised. The name “Isaac,” of course, means, “He laughs.”

In this week’s lesson, we see that what starts out as an abundance story, a story that showcases the sort of lavish hospitality that a “good man” like Abraham was happy to bestow upon three strangers, becomes so much more. That sort of abundance, given Abraham’s riches, is expected. For most of humanity, abundance is the practice of looking at what one has—which usually is gracious plenty—and showing how lavish one can be with it.

On the other hand, when it comes to Yahweh, abundance is totally different. Yahweh’s abundance is to look at what you don’t have and make the impossible not only possible, but real.

Before I move too far down this road, let me offer a few caveats. Notice that I said that Yahweh looks at what you don’t have. For example, when most of us say that we don’t have money, what we’re really saying is that we don’t have what we believe is enough money. And so, Yahweh’s abundance isn’t about fulfilling our wants. It has much more to do with our true needs. And what do we need? More money? Well, we may think that, but what we often truly need is someone to fix an impossibly broken relationship, someone to soothe the brow of a loved one in his or her last days, someone to give strength to the mother who is laboring at two jobs to make ends meet. All too many of us are so accustomed to the ordinary kind of abundance—the specious variety—that we find it difficult to encounter the real thing.

Second, one has to be careful with this story, lest it be understood in transactional terms. Abraham and Sarah, needing a son, are generous to Yahweh and so, Yahweh is generous in return. Remember that while Abraham might have been generous to Yahweh here, there have been other multiple instances in his past in which Abraham and Sarah did not act so favorably and generously toward Yahweh. Had they believed in Yahweh’s promise when they colluded to arrange Ishmael’s birth? How’d that one work out, Abe?

For me, at least, the difficult part of this story is its invitation to us. For here, we are invited to acknowledge new ways of receiving and embracing the astounding abundance that Yahweh has promised for us. May I say it once more, His abundance isn’t an extra 25 cents on the hour.

This story shows us the danger in worshipping the false god named “Inertia.” “We’ll never get that done with the limitations in our church budget.”

“How does our little congregation face a world with nine percent inflation?”

How about by putting on the breastplate of righteousness [Ephesians 6:14]? How about dying to ourselves daily?

We live and strive within a world that carefully measures and plans, and then pretty much sticks to the way “we’ve always done it.” Yahweh’s abundance would have us strike out in new and exciting directions. That holy abundance would have us use our imaginations to explore what it might mean if we matched our creeds with our deeds, if we forgave as we would like to be forgiven, if we nurtured others in the ways we think we could be nurtured, if we doled out water and food as quickly and as indiscriminately as we often dole out judgment. Dare I say it? I think Yahweh’s unique brand of abundance might allow us to show somewhat less concern about pronouns and more about souls.

Within the realm of Yahweh’s brand of abundance, there is no time or interest in our divisions. There is but one Body of Christ and, as St. Paul once wrote, it is agnostic toward one’s gender [Galatians 3:28]. There is no room for clanging symbols; there is only room for love. Only when we embrace Yahweh’s abundance are we freed to see that there are many around us who are struggling in silence, afraid to voice their fears, wary of a world which is full of abundance, but not the sort that Yahweh has promised, not the sort that they need. Ours is a world that, as I mentioned last week, spends too much time in the horizontal and not not enough getting aligned with Yahweh’s plumb line.

All this may sound impossible, but we know in our hearts that our LORD is the God of the Impossible. Ask Sarah.