HANNAH: SELF-GIVING MOTHER
A sermon given by Rev. Earl William Greene, Jr. for Mother's Day, and based on I Samuel 1.
When my mother was alive, the rack of cards for Mother's Day always presented a formidable challenge. All I could find were cards that were too flowery or sentimental for my "very different mom." The cards just didn't fit her, so I usually ended up making a card that was either outrageous or witty. She loved them!
Hallmark wasn't making cards when the story about Hannah was written 3,000 years ago, but Hannah clearly deserved "the very best."
Hannah was probably like other women of her time. She lived in a very simple house - perhaps made with stones, probably with a clay floor. There was probably a small fireplace inside used for cooking. There were no windows, but there were open slits in the walls to let the smoke out. It was dark inside - even in the day time. Small oil lamps, small enough to hold in the palm of your hand would provide what little light there was.
Hannah worked hard to provide a home and some comforts for her family. She cooked and cleaned. She ground grain for bread on a crude stone grinder, and she baked the bread in a primitive stone stove.
You couldn't buy your clothes in those days. Hannah made everything her family wore. It began with flax growing in the field, or as wool on a sheep's back. She would clean it, card it, spin and weave it. Hannah may have made some dyes that would give the clothes color. She could often be seen at the spring or stream washing the family clothes - not with detergent, but by pounding them on rocks.
Sometime during the day Hannah would take her turn at the wine press. She would also help out at the olive mill where they mashed olives for lamp fuel and for cooking. Perhaps Hannah had to gather wood and dung chips for the fire.
Rainfall was spare near Hannah's home. There may have been a cistern, hewn out of stone, but Hannah still probably made trips to the village well. There, she would fill her giant clay jar with precious water. Going to the well would be one of the high points of Hannah's day. Other women would be there, and they would share all the news.
When evening came Hannah would lie down on a straw mat - right on the floor to sleep. In the summer months she and her family may have slept on the roof, under the stars where it was cooler.
Hannah was a busy woman with all her tasks. All this, and she still managed to be a loving wife to Elkanah.
Her house might also be a shelter for some of the animals - sheep, goats, a nesting hen, and other stray animals who might just happen to walk in. The assortment of animals wasn't a problem, but Peninah was! Penninah was Elkanah's other wife!
Now, having more than one wife was perfectly permissible in that culture. Maybe Elkanah could afford two wives, but it didn't make for a happy home.
Hannah was not able to conceive. She wanted to, desperately wanted to, but year followed year - and there were no babies. So her husband Elkannah brought Peninnah into the home. And Penninah bore children. Hannah was disgraced, and Peninnah wouldn't let her hear the end of it! You see, in that culture - far, far more than in our own - not being able to have a child - a male child was a disgrace. It made Hannah an outsider, someone who people would think was inferior, probably cursed by God for something she had done. If she only knew what she had done!
Elkanah was a kind husband. He loved Hannah. The religious laws of the time would have permitted him to "throw her out" to the mercy of the streets and the jeers of others. But there's ample evidence that Elkanah did everything in his power to be considerate. He would shower her with little gifts, and try to reassure her of his care. But in that culture every man had to have a son. So Peninah was brought in for just that purpose.
And Peninah was everywhere! Hannah and Peninnah had to work together on home projects all day, everyday. Peninah was cruel. When they were in public she'd mock Hannah, make her feel "low." Sometimes her grief and shame was unbearable.
So Hannah took her problem to the only place she knew. There were no fertility clinics. There were no counselors to help her with her "low self-esteem." Everyone that knew Hannah would already have their minds made up: God had "closed Hannah's womb" deliberately.
It's hard for us to understand that kind of thinking, but its a common theme in the Bible: all suffering was seen as punishment from God. Strangely enough, some people still tend to think so. It's one example of how important it is to understand the times in which the Bible was written, and to make allowances for convictions that were based not on scientific fact, but on opinions and prejudices. For them an "act of God" was the way to explain things. We can do it differently.
So, the only place where Hannah could find help, the only "safe place" for Hannah was with God. Only God could understand. Hannah knew, what many of us know: there are times when circumstances drive us to try a myriad of possible solutions, but they don't work out. And no one understands. No one can "fix it" for us. We feel powerless. Our Higher Power becomes the only "safe place." And, with that Higher Power we find a way to begin to "sort things out," and we find in God's realm some process, some understanding, some solution that just doesn't exist anywhere else.
Hannah knew that was her only "safe place," so she took her disgrace to the Lord in prayer. We all pray. It's a "deep-down" instinct. We pray because there are times when we must. Praying isn't about a format, or about using special words. Praying is simply opening our hearts to the "God-force" in the universe - call it Lord, or Father, or Jesus, or Higher Power - whatever. It's about being connected to a whole spiritual network, a network that includes not only God, but every good and holy person and spirit that we've ever known, and many more that we do not.
"God, help me." We are moved by Hannah's prayer. And wouldn't you know it - the priest on duty at the Temple that day saw her in distress and accused her of being drunk! That looks like material for another sermon.!
"No, I'm not drunk, but my heart is broken. God, if you will give me a boy baby I'll dedicate him to you. I'll make sure that he knows the whole history of your grace. I'll make sure he has every opportunity to become a spiritual man - with convictions and courage. I'll do my part. I promise!"
Now, on this Mother's Day we can't help but remember that all through the ages mothers have received sons and daughters, and have also given them back to God - given them to humankind, given them to country, given them to a better life, given them to peace and justice, given them to a new age, given them, released them, let them go into the future.
Hannah finally had a son. Can you imagine her joy? And she remembered her promise. As soon as Samuel was old enough she took him to the temple and placed him in the care of Eli, the priest, who taught Samuel about God and about a life of service.
In time, Samuel grew into a great man with many talents and had great influence. Yes, Eli had taught him well. But of equal importance was the fact that long before Samuel was born his mother prayed for him, and somehow understood the spiritual truth that "this child will not belong to me. Ultimately, I will give him back to God."
For mothers, fathers, grandparents, and teachers this is what we're all called to do. To recognize the responsibility for nurturing every child who lives in the "village," to tell each child that we believe in him or her, to assure each one that that there will be love and practical support, to inspire these "our" children with high adventure, high possibilities where life can be lived "out of the ordinary," to teach about a Higher Power who will always "be there" for them, to demonstrate through personal example, and with real stories that being of service to others is the highest purpose of life.
And the job isn't finished when they grow up and move away. Long after our time has come and gone with our own children, look around. Find a child to pray for, find ways for that child to know about books, about beauty, about integrity, about faith. We're never too old to be a model of faith and action to some child. We can be "present" in that young life. Be a challenge. Tell our own story. And when the time comes, to be willing to offer that child up to God, to community, to the future. And then do it again for yet another child.
It's more than just about biology. It's about passing on values and ideals. It's about making sure that quality public education gets the support that is needed. It's about helping your church to be a strong spiritual presence in the community. And these tasks are meant for all of us.
Then trusting. Letting go of our sense of "ownership." Trusting the process. Trusting the outcome. Trusting God to turn these seeds of hope into an abundant life and a new age.
Thanks be to God for this memory of Hannah who lived 3,00 years ago. She wanted a child more than anything - to have for her own. Yet she made a promise, and kept it, as we all eventually must.. She trusted that what she could do for him could make a difference. Then she offered her child to God, and to a future that she would never know herself.
In that spirit we are called to do the same: mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts and uncles, pastor, teacher, next door neighbor and friend: to pass on what's really important, and to trust that God will bless and multiply what we do. This is our faith! Amen.
(with appreciation to The Rev. O. Carroll Arnold for "introducing" me to Hannah)