Gomer's story and Brexit Britain

Hosea 1: 2-10

Luke 11: 1-4

" I am Gomer, a woman with a reputation.. “ A wife of whoredom” I was called! That’s not very nice.

At the time I lived honour, men’s honour,  was important. No matter if it wasn’t the woman’s fault.  A woman like me, whose reputation was tarnished would harm a man’s honour would not be good marriage material. 

So I married the prophet Hosea. We were quite an odd couple. People wondered what he saw in me. They also might wonder what I saw in him, a religious guy who says he is a prophet didn’t look much like my type either. Did he just marry me as a metaphor? People always say that our marriage, and our children’s names are symbolic of God’s love of an unfaithful people. But to us it was so much more than that. In life sometimes you have to give someone another chance. In  human relationships there is something more important than honour and reputation.  People can change. Did people consider that maybe we actually liked each other!

Our marriage wasn’t always easy. People would point fingers and mutter behind our backs. But Hosea said to take no notice. He said that they had been unfaithful to what God wants in so many ways.  He said that how we cared for each other and our children, despite the difficult start to our marriage, would show them how God cared for people, and teach them something about God’s mercy.“

I wonder what Gomer and Hosea’s story says to our world today. There has been a rise in racist attacks. The recent referendum has revealed that we are a very divided society. Much of the campaign exploited racial and national differences. Many people are now feeling fearful and uncertain. Now, whatever happens politically, our  society is in need of healing.

The point of the story is twofold

One: Avoiding prejudice and looking at the human story.

Two: Mercy, healing and forgiveness are  difficult but possible.

First,  Gomer suffered from prejudice because of her reputation.  Prejudice can take many forms.  In the book and film  “Goodbye Mr. Chips” a list of names of former members of the school who have list their lives in the war is read out. As the name of  Max Staefel, a German,  is read out there is a murmur of discontent. At this, Mr. Chips stands up and reminds them, “Individuals are not Nations.”  At the moment, migrants and foreign nationals living in Britain are living in fear and encountering hostility. Some people have decided to wear a safety pin as a sign that they are against prejudice, and they want to be a safe person for someone who feels fearful to talk to or sit with.

Secondly, that mercy, healing and forgiveness are difficult but possible. The story of Hosea and Gomer, uses an intimate human relationship to signify God’s mercy and love. In Luke’s Lord’s Prayer that we heard in our New Testament reading, God is addressed as “Father.” It then goes on to ask that our sins are forgiven, “as we forgive those who sin against us”. This suggests to me that for that early Jewish community that followed Jesus, an atmosphere of mercy and forgiveness were considered the norm. When there are difficulties in human relationships,, as partners,  parents or  children, people have to work through their difficulties, talk about their hurt and anger and hopefully work things out in an an atmosphere of love. This is often very difficult. This is equally the case in society. Like any relationship this is difficult, and something you have to work at. Forgiveness and mercy are not about avoiding the wrongs and hurts that have been done. After apartheid in South Africa the Reconciliation and Truth Commission was established to face up to the things that had happened and help people move forward. At the heart of our faith is the belief that human beings are good, and that they can change.

So remember Gomer and Hosea, an odd couple who worked things our.. The two things that they can teach us are to avoid prejudice, and that, whilst often difficult, forgiveness and mercy are possible. People can change.

The Midwives of Egypt

This is a dialogue based on the Midwives of Egypt from Exodus 1:15-20 in the Bible. (The story is often called "Moses in the bulrushes," but Moses doesn't really do anything here!) I got the idea for this from a reflection "Women's Ministry: Some voices from the Bible" by Jan Such Pickard, published in  Acorns and Archangels (ed. Ruth Burgess, published by Wild Goose Publications)

Shiphrah: I’m Shiphrah

 Puah: And I’m Puah

Shiphrah: Midwives with attitude.

Puah: Wise women.

Shiphrah: We’ve just got a new directive from the pharaoh.

Puah: Kill all the Hebrew baby boys as soon as they are born.

Shiphrah: Who does this man think he is?

Puah: He’s the pharaoh, the ruler of our land.

Shiphrah: Yes but killing babies? That was never our job.

Puah: Wasn’t the mighty pharaoh put on Earth to guide us in the ways of the gods.

Shiphrah: But how can this be God’s work?

Puah: I understand what you’re saying. It just doesn’t seem right. Does it?

Shiphrah: Agreed then? Business as usual?

Puah: But won’t he be suspicious? We’ll be in for it when he finds out.

Shiphrah: Look, men, even pharaohs, don’t really know what goes on. We’ll confuse him with some wise women’s talk.

Puah: Great idea. Look, I read an article in the Daily Pyramid. It said that the Hebrew’s aren’t like Egyptians. It’s like they’re a different species. It’s why it’s OK to make them drag those heavy stones across miles of desert. They don’t feel it like the rest of us.

Shiphrah: How ridiculous. Isn’t it about time you stopped reading that rag?

Puah: No, you misunderstand me. When pharaoh asks why we didn’t kill any Hebrew babies, we claim that the Hebrew women are different.

Shiphrah: Yes, so they don’t feel it like us and they give birth all by themselves, and don’t need to call for a midwife.

Puah: Right, lets go then, there’s work to do.

Abraham and Isaac: A story for today

Genesis 22: Abraham is commanded to sacrifice his son Isaac, until at the last moment an angel tells him to stop.

Palestine, Syria, Mosul, Nigeria  etc... We are living in difficult times.

The story of Abraham and Isaac is an important yet difficult one. A difficult story for a difficult time.
Abraham is revered by Jews, Christians and Muslims as the Father of their faith. This story is important for all 3 of the Abrahamic faiths. (In the Muslim story, the child is Ishmail) Yet his actions here are abhorrent.  Even though he doesn't go through with it, he intends to sacrifice his child. He climbs up the mountain, with the knife and the firewood. He ties Isaac, his much loved and longed for little boy Laughter, to an alter. It isn't reported what Sarah said when she found out, but I don't imagine she was happy.

I am going to explore two interpretations of this story, and what these say to Abraham's children today.

The first interpretation is that it is about unquestioning obedience to God. Some writers commend Abraham for his absolute obedience. Kierkegaard for example calls Abraham a Knight of a Faith. For the Knight of Faith, obedience to God must come before everything, before reason, before morality. To me, this view is abhorrent. If we believe in a God of love, we could never accept that to do harm could be from God.

The second interpretation is that what made Abraham great wasn't that he intended to sacrifice Isaac, but that he didn't. Genesis was written at a time when sacrifice, including child sacrifice, was commonplace. (Such as in the lists of burial sacrifices of the kings of Ur.) Sacrifice was a recognition that everything belonged to God, and we should be prepared to give back anything that we have. This   was a society that regarded children (and wives!) as property, so the devout should be prepared to sacrifice them  also. Yet, as far as we can understand it from the records, one of the things that marked Israel out as kdifferent from the other nations, was that they didn't sacrifice children. This story is a way of saying that this is not what God requires. Abraham thought His God wanted him to sacrifice Isaac, because that's what all the other gods around at the time were asking. But he was wrong. Yahweh is not like other gods. As the prophet Michah was to later put it, "This is what Yahweh asks of you, only this, act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your God."

What is this to say to us to our situation today?

The first interpretation of the story, that we should unquestioningly obey the voice of God, has caused immense problems for Abraham's children. Throughout History Jews, Muslims and Christians, have wielded their knives in response to what they thought was God's command. The crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, 9:11, Northern Ireland, the current situations in Syria, Israel and Palestine. People so often get the voice of God spectacularly wrong. The Yorkshire Ripper, Peter  Sutcliffe, thought that God had told him to murder prostitutes. In 2013, a diabetic 12 year old girl,  Syble Rossiter, died after her parents prayed for her healing and thought God wanted them to stop giving her insulin. Richard Dawkins in his book the God Delusion, suggests that all religion is about unquestioning obedience, and all right thinking Scientific people best avoid it. If I thought that this is what our faith required of us, I'm afraid I would have to agree with him.

So what about the second interpretation, that Abraham's greatness was not in his unquestioning obedience, but in his willingness to humbly  recognise that he had misunderstood God's voice. To listen again, to hear the voice of an angel, "Put down the knife, Abraham. Do not harm even one hair on his head."  It took Abraham great courage to put down the knife and untie Isaac. To climb down the mountain. Some today show a similar courage. Steve Chalk was for many years the leader of the   Evangelical Alliance and campaigned against homosexuality, believing this stance to be God's will.   Quite recently he changed his mind. This happened through coming across homosexual people in pastoral situations, and seeing the hurt that his church's position had caused them. He felt that to  include people, and show the love of Christ, he needed to change his view about what God wanted.  There are others who have the courage to be the voice of the angel. When harm is done in the name of faith, they stand up and speak for peace and compassion. Zaki Badawi, who was the chief Iman an London Mosque spoke out when the ayatollah issued a fatwah against Salman Rushdie.

Stand up for the Isaacs of the world. Reflect on our own actions, and those done in our name by our religious communities, or our Nations. Be critical, question things. Join with others such as Amnesty International to stand together for Peace and Justice in the world's troubled situations. Wherever harm is done in the name of faith, let us dare to be the voice of the angel. "Put down the knife Abraham, this is not what God wants."  Yahweh is good, Allah is merciful, God is love.

http://www.christianaid.org.uk/emergencies/current/gaza-emergency-appeal/index.asp  http://www.christianaid.org.uk/emergencies/current/iraq-crisis-appeal/ http://www.amnesty.org.uk http://www.aworldatschool.org https://www.facebook.com/events/580242122084490/?ref=25https://www.facebook.com/groups/365311285573/?ref=ts&fref=ts

The Road to Emmaus, as Mrs. Cleopas saw it.

It had been a distressing week. Jesus was dead. We were just beginning to come to terms with that. Jesus, our friend and rabbi. The one from whom life had shone so brightly. Who taught us that despite the struggles of our life, that there was hope, that love was the way. But now he was dead. And a violent torturous death at that, crucifixion. The death of a criminal.

So it was all over, the idea that he might be the promised Messiah. Our hope that we would follow him, making a reality the Kingdom of which he spoke, where those who hunger and thirst for justice would be satisfied, where the hungry would be fed, the blind would see, liberty brought to captives and Good News proclaimed to the whole of creation. All those hopes were dashed. Jesus was dead. My husband Cleopas and I were on our way back home to Emmaus. There was nothing to be done. We had lost more than a friend, we had lost hope.

As we were talking a stranger who was walking along the road came alongside us. We were not surprised, many people had come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. We told him about what had happened to Jesus, a little surprised that he didn't know. It had been the talk of the town. Now this man certainly knew his scriptures. Together we discussed the prophets, of how our people Israel, Isaiah had called God's suffering servant. That often those called by God to speak truth to the powerful, had suffered. Surely it wouldn't be surprising if this happened to God's Messiah too. I recalled Pilate's question " What is truth?" As Jesus stood before him, silent and unwavering.

As we neared home it was dusk. We asked the stranger if he had far to go before nightfall. This was a dangerous road. Jesus had always reminded us of how the scriptures command us to show kindness and hospitality to strangers. We were once strangers in the land of Egypt, and owed our very survival as a Nation to the kindness of strangers.

So we invited him into our home. I prepared a simple supper, just some bread, fish and a little wine. As was our custom before eating we prayed a blessing. As our guest seemed a devout man with a deep knowledge of scriptures, we invited him to say the blessing. As he broke the bread and blessed it, a strange thing happened. My eyes met with Cleopas. It was obvious we were thinking about the same thing.. That last Passover that Jesus had shared with us. And we knew he, Jesus, was here among us. Along the road as we had shared the scriptures. Here, in hospitality shown to a stranger. Here, in the breaking and sharing of bread. In every place, through continuing the way he had shown us. And that despite everything that had happened, his word, his life and his hope still lived on. His hope, our hope of a new Kingdom, where the hungry would be fed, the blind see, captives liberated and good news proclaimed to every creature.

And all of a sudden the stranger was no longer with us. Had he slipped out to continue his journey? Was this a vision? Or an imagining brought on by our grief? No matter, the realisation that came to us that evening is what matters and remains strong to this day. The things that Jesus lived for will never die. And we might learn to recognise him whenever we welcome strangers. Wherever in our hungry world, bread is broken and shared.

“Often. Often says the lark in her song, often goes Christ  in the stranger’s guise.”