A monologue based on the experience of Sarah in the Old Testament, originally written by me for a service my wife was taking at a local congregation back in 2009. It came back to mind because she is against leading a service in a local congregation, preaching on the call of Abram, and because the person who originally delivered it died recently. So here it is again in slightly modified form. I suppose it is also appropriate given that today is International Women's Day. There was also a strand within it prompted by an earlier reflection that we have a tendency to write off people once they come to a certain age or stage of illness. Indeed how often do we write ourselves off?
Laughter and tears have marked my life, especially my later years…
I could have cried when Abraham, or Abram as he was known as then, said that God had told him to leave his father’s house in Haran and set off for who knows where…
We were both already well on in years… It was time to think about winding down, not setting off on a journey of exploration.
But I trusted him totally. I knew he loved me… He said I was well named because I was his little princess… Sarai…
But I knew his name was painful to him… Ab-Ram… Exalted Father… And because my years for bearing children were long in the past we knew that name would never be fulfilled. And many a time I cried long into the night at that thought…
Yet God had promised that if we trusted him and went where he led he would make Abram into Abraham… the Father of Many… As many as the grains of sand on the shore and the stars scattered across the sky… But that blessing was not to be ours unless we left the security of home and went where God would lead.
So we set off from Haran in search of this land of promise. This place where old people give birth… And we ended up in Egypt during a time of famine and our journey nearly ended there, when the Pharaoh wanted to claim me as his wife (as if he didn’t have enough of them already). We had both doubted the protection of God and Abraham had pretended I was his sister… When the Pharaoh found out we had lied we almost died…
But we didn’t… and we went back to the land of Canaan…
You would have thought that would have taught us to trust God more closely, and not try to cook up schemes of our own. But no… When it seemed no more likely that I would have a child I encouraged Abram to father a child on my servant Hagar… We had picked her up when we were down in Egypt and she had served me well...
I’m ashamed to admit it… It wasn’t his idea… But he did as I suggested, and was so proud of the child when it was born.
I on the other hand, even though it was my idea, was driven mad with jealousy. Even before the child was born. Hagar had started to look down her nose at me as she caressed her belly, and I confess I treated her so badly that she ran away for a time. But she returned and bore her son... Ishmael... a great ox of a child...
If only I had trusted God, what pain would have been avoided. God had promised that Abraham and I would give rise to a mighty nation… I whose body and spirit had dried up. I laughed at the thought of it… And God said our son would be called “Laughter” – Isaac. And despite my laughter and lack of trust God fulfilled his promise.
Nine months later I was laughing again… Though it made my tired old body ache. Not the cynical laughter of someone who doubts, but the laughter of someone who has known the impossible come true.
Yet even then, knowing that, I later insisted that Abraham should send Hagar and her child away from our encampment. I didn’t care if they lived or died… In fact I prayed for the latter… What a thing to do. In my better moments I recognise that it was a dreadful choice to force on Abraham... The Father of many, forced deciding between his children. But Isaac was my child not Ishmael, and I wanted the best for him. And for love of me, Abram chose...
I wonder how many nights of tears that has caused?
Laughter and tears… Laughter laced with tears of joy and sorrow.
Selah
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