Father Abraham and Sons

Old Man Look At My Life (A Bible Story)

The old man reclines with his back against a bent old tree. It’s hard to tell one from the other, both look tired.  It is the middle of the day and the old man is sleeping, snoring softly with his head leaning down on his right shoulder. A small drop of spittle has settled into his white beard.

As I observe him closely I see his head twitch and his brow work as if he is pondering some great matter as he sleeps. Suddenly, his eyes pop open and he stares straight ahead. His eyes never blink, and I begin to think that he is dead.  

Then he speaks, and I start, but catch myself so as not to disturb him. I don’t hear the first part of what he is saying, but I do hear this: “I walk childless …” He says this as if in conversation. It frightens me to see him like this and I’ve seen him like this on several occasions. Is he talking to himself? Is this the strange Being who calls to him out of the desert?

“I Walk Childless . . .”

And this is so. No little boy or girl walks behind him imitating his gait. No son or daughter asks him questions about the business. His wife is not showing anything but her age. He has adopted me, Eliezer, but I know that I am a concession, an alternative to his nephew Lot. I am not his son.

“I walk childless …” 

Not daring to draw any closer to my master than I already am, I watch from a distance as he murmurs some vague utterances and gestures emphatically with his wiry, gnarled hands. Then his body stiffens, and his head snaps back and thumps against the trunk of the tree. Now I’m sure he is dead.

“Master,” I whisper. “Master!” Nothing. I move toward him and then I see that he is not dead, but in some sort of a trance. Maybe he is ill. Maybe the weathered Bedouin is possessed by some desert spirit, some goat demon. I run to get his wife.

Old Sarai, What Were You Thinking?

When Sarai and I arrive back at the tree some 15 minutes later, the old man is gone.

Later, well after the sun has set, my adoptive father walks into the light of the evening campfire. His hands are covered with caked blood. Who or what did he kill? Sacrifices? What? The old man orders me to bring him water. He washes slowly, deliberately, as if time meant nothing to him any more.

She watches him carefully for a moment or two, and then says, “Come, walk with me. I want to talk with you about Hagar.”

He blinks, once, then again. “Hagar?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says softly, but with eyes as cold as ice. “Hagar.”

Father of Nations

Genesis 15 and 16 in the Hebrew Scriptures continue the story of Abram and Sarai, as well as concubine Hagar—Sarai’s handmaiden, Abraham’s wet dream. In Genesis 15 Abram sees a bloody vision that terrifies him, and yet steadies him too. God promises him a son and a land. I guess God should have been clearer, or God should have let Sarai share the vision. As it turns out, Abram doesn’t have just one son, but two, and yet six more if you count the six sons of Keturah, Abraham’s second wife (Gen. 25:2). The father of nations? —that’s Abraham.

“To your offspring I assign this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates …”  (15:18). These borders were never realized by any of the kings of Israel, not even David or Solomon.

Making Sense of It All—or Not!

What do we make of this ancient story? Who is the heir of Abraham? The Jewish people say Isaac, Sarah’s boy. The Muslims point to Ishmael, Hagar’s son. The Hebrew Bible says Isaac. The Islamic Quran says Ishmael. The brothers still fight it out, killing each other over a land they could share if they would only stop the violence long enough to look each other in the eye and see the family resemblance there.

The Jewish people claim superiority of revelation because they were the first to see and hear the voice of God. The Muslims claim superiority of revelation because they are the last to see and hear the voice of God.

Then—This Guy

And of course, Jesus stands squarely in the middle of these two warring brothers claiming only a willingness to die rather than kill, bleed rather than wound. And Jesus has the audacity to declare that this is his Father’s will and his God’s way! Oh, and his Father? It’s not Abraham it would seem. “Before Abraham was, I am …” (John 8:58) The problem is that like most things that the Gospels have Jesus saying it’s impossible to know exactly what is meant. However, one thing is clear—there is a higher power than father Abraham. And it’s not Sarah!

So what to do? I think mostly this: Stand with Jesus and those like him. Stand with the marginalized, the left-outs and the left-behind, the down-and-out and the up-and-going-nowhere-fast. The only way this divided world can or will be brought to healing is through the willingness of people like you and me to stand and take the hits for people who can’t handle one more slap in the face. It’s that simple and that hard too.

How So Batman?

Michael Keaton’s Batman was the best, no doubt. Why? Keaton’s Batman is conflicted to the max—part good guy Bruce Wayne and part “dark knight!” And maybe you and I can identify with the Bat. Don’t you just want to go out and beat the crap out of some people? Seriously, a red-headed joker comes to mind for me.

Kicking butt is the way of every superhero known to humankind, including almost every one of the biblical characters until Jesus. Think of Greek mythology—same thing, right? “Pick up your cross …” Yeah, no thank you Jesus! “… and follow me.” And where are you going exactly? Yep—suffering, shame, losing, giving, loneliness, death. There’s resurrection too, but let’s be honest, the only certainty here is death!

Do Your Best . . .

. . . and forget the rest. That’s a term out of physical training—“Do your best and forget the rest.” That’s my life’s motto actually. Do something because something is not nothing! Give this something your best and then sleep well. When told to sit—stand! Ordered to be quiet—speak! Get smacked on the cheek—turn the other and then turn right back to what got you smacked in the first place. Don’t quit trying to help those who need it the most.

That’s what’s key for me—I try things. If something fits, then I stay with it. If not, then, not! I work with those experiencing homelessness—it’s kitchen management. It’s the kitchen—I love being in the kitchen. I partner with our son Josh in an experimental community called Still Processing. It’s a growing movement nationwide made up of folks who are looking for safe spaces to process those matters that matter to them.

For almost twenty years now my family has been involved with advocacy work on behalf of Palestinians. It’s been hard, yes, but tremendously rewarding. Along the way we’ve met amazing people, ordinary in every way, except this—they willingly suffer and sacrifice for the sake of peace. And no matter their religion or lack thereof, they follow Jesus.

As I said, it’s simple but not easy. What was it our mothers’ used to say? — “If it was easy than everyone would be doing it.” To the Bat Cave!