Thomas J Parlette
The Father of Many Nations”
Gen. 17: 1-7, 15-16
May 25, 2024
“The Rivulet-loving wanderer Abraham
Through waterless wastes tracing his fields of pasture
Led his Chaldean herds and fattening flocks
With the meandering art of wavering water
That seeks and finds, yet does not know it’s way.
He came, rested and prospered, and went on,
Scattering behind him little pastoral kingdoms,
And over each one its own particular sky,
Not the great rounded sky through which he journeyed,
That went with him but when he rested changed.
His mind full of names
Learned from strange peoples speaking alien tongues,
And all that was theirs one day he would inherit.
He died content and full of years, though still
The Promise had not come, and he left his bones,
Far from his father’s house, in alien Canaan.”
That poem by Edwin Muir, nicely encapsulates the man we meet today – Abraham, the father of many nations.
Abraham is such a unique character in world history. All 3 of the world’s great monotheistic religions – Judaism, Islam and Christianity – trace their roots to Abraham. The Jewish faith tends to emphasize the connection between Abraham’s “going forth” and the internal spiritual journey that all of us take. Muslims stress Abraham’s submission to God as the major feature here – obedience to the will of God. In fact, the word “muslim” means “one who submits to God.” And for us Christians, we point to Abraham’s faith and trust in God as he does what God says with no arguments or excuse – no questions asked. He just packs up and goes. For us, accepting this call from God makes Abraham the Father of Faith.
As I said, Abraham is unique, and he is quite amazing. Just think about this little bit of the story we heard today. God said “Go – I’ve got great plans for you. I will make great nations out of you.” And he went. Abraham took God at his word. He held God’s promise as true. He wondered out loud how God was going to bring all this about – but he had faith that if God said it was going to happen, it would happen. He never asked any questions. He never argued or demanded any proof. He never looked for a way out or offered any excuses. He never said “I can’t”- he just went.
Once upon a time, an elementary school teacher asked her students to write down as many “I can’ts” as possible.
I can’t kick a soccer ball past second base.
I can’t do addition without using my fingers.
I can’t get that girl in science class to like me
I can’t do ten push-ups.
I can’t get boys to notice me.
I can’t eat just one cookie.
All the students then put their “I can’ts” into a shoebox, and their teacher took them outside to a remote spot on the playground, right underneath a beautiful tree. The teacher told her students – “Today we are going to have a funeral for all your “I can’ts” They dug a little hole, and they carefully placed their shoebox full of “I can’ts” in the hole and covered it with dirt.
Then the teacher told her students to join hands, and she gave the eulogy. “Friends, we are gathered here today to honor the memory of “I can’t.” While he was on earth, he touched many lives, some more than others. His name has been spoken in every public place – schools, city halls, state capitols and churches. He is survived by his brothers and sisters – “I Can,” “I Will”, and “I’m going to right away.” They are not as well-known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and powerful yet. Perhaps someday, with your help, they will make an even bigger mark on the world. May “I can’t” rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence. Amen.”
Then the students went back to their classroom where they celebrated the passing of “I Can’t” with cookies, popcorn and juice. The teacher made a tombstone from butcher paper and wrote – “I Can’t” – at the top with the date on the bottom. She posted the tombstone on the bulletin board and made a habit of pointing at it whenever a student said “I Can’t”.
Abraham must have had a teacher like that, because I can’t just isn’t in his vocabulary. His story is the model of faith and trust that Paul encourages us to live by. Abraham put every nagging “I can’t” to bed and ventured out to a new country, with no idea where he was going. The only thing he knew was who he was following.
A number of years ago, the late Pope John Paul was traveling to a much anticipated and historic meeting with the Secretary General of the United Nations. The Pope’s plane was scheduled to land at JFK in New York – but due to unsafe wind conditions, his plane had to be re-routed to Newark. A limousine picked up the Pope and whisked him away to his meeting.
With only minutes to spare, anxious Pope leaned forward and asked the limo driver – “Can you drive a bit faster, my son, I’m going to be late.” But the driver said, “I’m sorry, Your Holiness, but I can’t afford another speeding ticket. If I get another ticket, I’m going to lose my license.”
A sympathetic Pope then asked the driver to pull over. To the chauffer’s amazement, the Pope got out of the limo, tapped on the driver’s side window and told him that he would drive the rest of the way. So the driver moved to the back seat and the Pope got behind the wheel.
Driving much faster than the chauffer would have dared, the Pope darted in and out of traffic – narrowly missing several parked cars. A police officer witnessed the speeding limo and promptly pulled the car over. “Let me handle this one,” the officer said to his partner. “When I’m through with this guy he’s going to have at least 5 tickets.”
But after only a minute, the visibly shaken officer returned to his squad car with his ticket book still unopened. His partner asked what happened, and the officer said, “I couldn’t write him a ticket – this guy was big. I mean REALLY big.”
“Who was it?” asked his partner. “The mayor… the Governor… the President. Don’t tell me you pulled over the President of the United States?”
“No, he’s bigger than all of them.”
“Oh come on – who’s bigger than the President?
Well, I’m not exactly sure who it was – but the Pope was his chauffer!”
Abraham knew that God was the one who was driving the car. He was able to give up control, give God the wheel and enjoy the ride from the back seat. As Jesus says – “Those who lose their lives will ultimately gain their lives.” Those who give up control of their lives to God will find life.
Abraham knew that deep down in his bones. Put God in the center, not himself, and abundant life would come to him.
That’s no small lesson is it? It can take years to come to grips with that little paradox. Henri Nouwen once wrote that “This paradox becomes visible in very ordinary situations. If we cling to our friends, we may lose them, but if we are non-possessive in our relationships, we will make friends. If fame is what we seek and desire, it often vanishes as soon as we acquire it, but if we have no need to be known, we might be remembered long after our deaths. When we want to be in the center, we easily end up on the margins, but when we are free enough to be wherever we must be, we often find ourselves in the center.”
When we can give up the center – we find ourselves in the center. By giving up our lives – we gain our lives. The great paradox of Christianity.
Abraham seemed to have an intuitive understanding of that paradox. We have a word for that mysterious, elusive idea. We have a word for that intuitive sense – Faith.
There’s a story about a missionary and Bible translator in India who was working on a translation of the New Testament into one of the many dialects of Southern India. He was looking for a word for “faith” and was having a difficult time of it.
One day, a young boy from the village came into his study. Hunched over the manuscript, the missionary waved the boy over to a chair in the corner, saying he’d be with him in a minute.
When he looked up, the missionary saw the boy walking around the chair, looking at it from every angle, but not sitting on it. The missionary repeated, “Have a seat, we can talk in a minute.” But the boy continued to examine the chair in amazement.
Then the missionary realized what was going on. This was such an isolated village, the boy had never seen a western-style chair before. He wasn’t sure he could sit on such a flimsy-looking thing, and have it bear his weight.
Then the boy asked a question in his native tongue. Included within it was a single word that meant, “Can I give myself to this and know that it will hold me up?” A light went on for the translator – he knew he had found just the right word for faith.
That’s what Abraham had – trust that God was strong enough to rest his life on. Abraham knew that faith and trust in God was what would guide him through life. He could give himself to God and know that God would hold him up.
As Paul points out – our works, our accomplishments, everything we try to do on our own – just falls short. The only thing we need for salvation is faith and trust in God. That’s what Abraham, the father of many nations – Jewish, Islamic and Christian – can teach us.
So as we continue on our own journey in this Lenten season, a journey that takes us through familiar and unfamiliar territory – let us put our faith in God. Let us trust that God can bear the weight of anything we try to carry on our own. Let us live by faith and trust that the promises of God will come true.
May God be praised. Amen.
