Andrew Boyle Pentecost 24 15 November 2009
1 Samuel 1. 1-20 Mark 13. 1-8
I knew a family where there were two sisters-in-law. One was a fundamentalist Christian; the other a woman who married into the family
in her late 30s. She was eager to have children but had two, maybe three, miscarriages. The fundamentalist sister-in-law said to her
“unless you believe in God you will continue to have miscarriages.” Well, she has two beautiful young daughters now but a more cruel
picture is hard to imagine.
The fundamentalist saw her sister-in-law’s infertility as some sort of curse from God and permission for her to exact torture,
as Peninnah did to Hannah.
There are a lot of instances of barrenness through scripture. It’s such a regular theme that we would be a little dull to not twig that this is
more than coincidence. All of the barren women of the bible in time give birth to great figures in Israel’s history: Sarah (Abraham)
bearing Isaac; Rebecca (Isaac) giving birth to Esau and Jacob; Rachel (Jacob) giving birth to Benjamin, the youngest of Jacob’s
children; the mother of Samson; Hannah (Elkanah) bearing Samuel; King David’s first wife, Michal – a sort of truncated dynasty to
begin with, and; the last in the line Elizabeth (Zechariah) , mother of John the Baptist. All these are more than coincidental; women,
who for a time were infertile, eventually bearing many of the great figures in Hebrew history. This is not coincidence so much as pattern;
a spiritual pattern of barrenness and then bringing to birth.
We heard last week of the feisty and seductive Ruth – and the other two women like her listed in Jesus’ lineage: Rahab and Bathsheba.
These were strong, active women who took matters into their own hands to get what they wanted.
But what is it about these strong, waiting-women; women who are insistent that they want of God descendents – but who have no
control over their circumstances. What is it in them about the combination of longing and yet lack of fulfillment. We hear it so
poignantly in the words of Hannah as she explains to Eli that she in not drunk but praying with deep fervour to her God:
Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.
Hannah is a woman who hopes against hope; who defiantly still hopes in the face of Paninnah’s taunts and does not give in to
despair or resignation. She feels her pain but she does not give in. She is a woman who hopes still in spite of her husband’s
devoted but rather ineffectual encouragement. What is it about this woman who is willing to pray out of her suffering. She is in that
place where one has no power, no control, no capacity to change her circumstances. In this age where contraception and fertility
and birthing are so highly controlled and the bringing to life of a child is regulated in so many ways it’s difficult to imagine the
sense of utter dependency on the will of God as to whether a new life will come or not. Hannah was in this place of utter dependency.
Women with low fertility are now in the hands of the medical specialists; not the Gods; so they think. I’m not so sure.
I am conflicted by this story of Hannah because while we might say the outcome is good what Hannah seems to do is to enter into
a sort of plea-bargain with God. It’s what people do in the legal system if they’ve got some knowledge of something that the police
want. If I plead guilty will you see that I get a lesser sentence. Look God, If you give me a son; I will give him back to you.
And it does appear that God responds to this plea-bargaining. It’s easy for us to read it like this. The trouble is that the easy reading
is often not the reading with the kernel of truth in it.
This plea-bargaining is the pattern of much of our prayer when we are desperate; trapped. If you God; then I will. How about that for
a deal God; see how committed I am to you.; how much I believe in you. How often do we hear testimonies of this kind. How often
have we tried this sort of prayer ourselves. Do not put the Lord your God to the test.
What interests me is the place from which Hannah prays; she is terribly alone in this polygamous marital arrangement. It’s all cozy
with Elkanah and Penninah and their brood. And while Elkanah’s romantic devotion to Hannah might appeal to us in the age when
marriage is all about romantic love it would have been worth nothing to Hannah; once Elkanah was dead and Penninah’s eldest son
inherited his estate Hannah would be cast out; still the butt of Penninah’s bitter taunts. No double portion then.
So what she does is that out of her barrenness she offers herself. Last week we heard the account of Jesus sitting in the temple
watching people place money offerings into the temple treasury. A widow came and offered two copper pennies. Jesus commented
that out of her poverty she offered more than those who were wealthy. Likewise, Hannah prays out of her vexation and great
anxiety – her place of poverty; she admits that she is harassed by the vexatious Peninnah and anxious about her future and her
husband is no use.
The fact is that while Hannah appears to enter into a plea-bargain with God this is actually no plea bargain because she will get no
reward from it. Her offering to God is that she will give up the son who would care for her in her old age. There is no reward for her
in this. What she promises is that she will remain in her position of vulnerability and emptiness. And she fulfills her part of the bargain.
Here I think is the truth in this. Hannah has got to a place where she is able to give up the thing which she so desperately wants.
We imagine that she has got the thing she wants – and so she does get it – but she doesn’t need to hold onto it. She gives birth to
it and then lets it go. Really it is the pattern which is repeated in Mary: bringing to birth and then letting go. For me the deep holiness
of Mary is her ability to allow God to appear in the Christ child. Maybe it is no coincidence that the hymn of praise which Hannah
utters after the birth of Samuel is paralleled so closely in the Magnificat of Mary, the setting of which we began today’s service with.
In this pattern is the truth that we cannot truly have until we are willing to let go. Those of you who have adult children will know that you
cannot have an adult relationship with your children until you are willing to let go. Until you can see them for just who they are – more
than likely not a mirror image of you; just themselves in all the mystery of their humanity.
It is the pattern of life; while we hold it too tightly by the neck it’s ambiguous and confusing and makes no sense. And we feel
vexatious and anxious much of the time. But like Hannah unless we are willing to travel to the depth of our anxiety and let go life will
never be ours.
This is what is at the heart of what Jesus has done; in his dying and rising he has broken through that hold that death has over us
– in order that we might live with the same freedom found in him. And so we are able to hope against hope; to live with hope in the
face of the often messy and ambiguous circumstances of our lives. And it is what we are called to be as Christ’s people as we
gather in community – hope bearers. We are called to carry each other and to share that hope which we have in Christ when we
encounter others beyond the church; bearing light; being salt; carrying hope for a world infected with despair. So might we too pray
with Hannah:
‘My heart exults in the Lord;
my strength is exalted in my God.
‘There is no Holy One like the Lord,
no one besides you;
there is no rock like our God.
and in our joy, found in knowing this God, be cause for others to sing too.