MY FATHER WAS A WANDERING ARAMEAN
March 16, 2014, Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 12:1-9; Psalm 121
Rebekah M. Hutto, The Brick Presbyterian Church in the City of New York
God of the journey, through the twists and turns of life, teach us again to follow
your Way. In this journey of Lent, guide us to the cross with patience and wisdom.
Allow our hearts to rest in you this day, O Lord. May we find comfort, guidance,
and strength in your Word and your love that never changes. Breathe in us again
so that we may trust you on the journey. In the name of Christ, we pray. Amen.
One of the things BJ and I tell people that we love about New York is that
everyone is from somewhere else. Yes there are some of you who have grown up
in the city and lived here all of your lives, but your stories are surprisingly rare.
New York is a destination city. For the most part, people arrive here at some later
point in their lives, and I’ve found your stories of geographical movement
fascinating. I’ve loved hearing where all God has taken you before you came to the
city. I think that’s what makes this city’s diversity so interesting. BJ and I thought
we would move here, being one of the few families “from somewhere else.” But
instead we’ve discovered that most everyone here in the city is from somewhere
else. The journey here is a part of all of our stories in one way or another.
Our text for this morning is about a journey. As Tolstoy said, “All great literature
is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.” And in
the Old Testament text for today, a man goes on a journey. In fact, to be exact, his
whole clan goes on a journey: Abraham, Sarah, Lot, and their entourage including
servants, herders, and Lot’s family and friends. This huge traveling party begins
the move 500 miles southwest, to Canaan. Actually, it’s the same journey
Abraham’s father set out on years before but then decided to settle in Haran
instead. In Genesis 12, Abraham’s story begins with the migration of Israel’s “first
family”—from Haran to Canaan—God sends them on a wandering journey.
We talk a lot in the church about journeys. Faith journeys, call stories, God’s plan
for us—in one way or another they all involve movement. The children Adam
-1* Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation, the written
accounts occasionally stray from proper grammar and punctuation.
baptized this morning are on a journey, even as young as they are. Last Sunday we
told our new members that we at Brick are excited to be a part of their faith
journeys. During this season of Lent, we remember that we are on a journey of
penitence and prayer as we await the celebration of Easter. Each of us here has a
journey we’ve been on, a story to tell, and that’s one of the key aspects of being
Christian. Brick Presbyterian Church is neither the first nor the last stop on any of
our faith journeys. It’s all a part of the movement to which God calls us.
So, back to Abraham. God’s encounter with Abraham in Genesis chapter 12 is the
Bible’s transition point between the pre-history of humanity and the beginning of
God’s relationship with Israel. Before this, Adam and Eve were expelled from the
Garden, Noah’s family was spared from the flood, and the nations at Babel were
dispersed. Now God’s intrusive speech begins a new story—a story of migration
that will forever shape the history of Israel. From here on out Abraham and his
descendants will be on the move.
In this encounter Abraham is called to move away from his homeland, his family,
and his father’s house. Abraham and Sarah are called away from their land, its
familiar seasons, and the support and love of kindred. The difference from the
earlier stories in Genesis is they’re not being evicted like Adam and Eve or
dispersed like the people of Babel; here Abraham and Sarah are called to start a
new journey with God out of freedom and faithfulness. And in miraculous fashion,
Abraham says yes. He agrees to be the traveler for God, the one who will get up
and move in response to God’s call. Abraham sets out on a course of total
displacement, becoming the famous wanderer of the Old Testament.
Later in Israel’s history, in the stories of Deuteronomy, the people of Israel are
preparing to enter the Promised Land after their own 40-year journey in the
wilderness. They are given instructions on preparing an offering to God from the
first fruits, along with a speech to recite. If there’s anything God is clear about with
Israel, it’s that they are to know their history and be able to recite it. Their story
begins with the line “you shall declare before the LORD your God: ‘My father was
a wandering Aramean.’”1 Their history, as Israel, begins with the memory of their
wandering father Abraham. Their story begins with the man and woman who
picked up and left everything behind to journey with God. Later on in Genesis,
1
Deuteronomy 26:5.
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* Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation, the written
accounts occasionally stray from proper grammar and punctuation.
when telling his own story Abraham himself says “Back when God made me
wander.”2
What does it mean to be a wanderer? I’ve been struck by this word all week
because I can’t imagine God telling us to “go get lost.” Not to mention, we live in a
world where hardly any of us travel without knowing exactly where we’re going.
We have smart phones that can map out the journey right in front of us while we
walk. We have Google maps that can show us the actual street view of the
destination to which we’re headed. We have Kayak, Yelp, and TripAdvisor—
companies that offer us reviews, tell us the best way to travel, and give us all the
information we need to know before we set out on the journey. In a world of GPS
and navigation technology, I can’t help but wonder . . . what does it mean to be a
wanderer?
In her book, An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor recounts several
spiritual disciplines that we might be losing in our modern world—disciplines that
can draw us closer to God on the journey of faith. One of these, she says, is the
discipline of getting lost.3 Taylor is a retired Episcopal priest, writer, and teacher,
and now spends her time in the country. On the farm on which she lives she
describes the worn earth underneath the paths that the cows have tread. These
paths mark the shortest distance from A to B and are familiar to these animals as
they roam together; they help keep them safe and surround them with the familiar.
But she says, “once you leave the cow path, the unpredictable territory is full of
life.”4 Leaving the familiar, and becoming a wanderer is a boon to the senses,
making you aware of that which you might have ignored. Getting lost often
awakens your senses and makes you more attuned to what’s around you.
Moreover, Taylor says, “If you do not start choosing to get lost in some fairly lowrisk ways, then how will you ever manage when one of life’s big winds knocks you
clean off your course?”5 Getting lost can be a spiritual discipline, she says, helping
2
Genesis 20:13.
3
Taylor, Barbara Brown, An Altar in the World, Harper One, 2009, Chapter 5.
4
Taylor, 70.
5
Taylor, 72.
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* Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation, the written
accounts occasionally stray from proper grammar and punctuation.
us later on when the world throws us off course. Becoming a wanderer with God,
then, helps us to flex and strengthen our muscles when the world sends us into the
wilderness.
Because that’s the other thing about becoming a wanderer, the journey has its ups
and downs. Although we revere Abraham and Sarah for setting out on the path and
trusting God to guide them, they were not free of mistakes, pitfalls, or dangers
while they traveled. They took great risks, made themselves vulnerable, and often
found themselves in trouble. As we all reflect on our own faith journeys, we too
have seen the highs and lows of traveling with God. The Psalm for today, Psalm
121, is one of the pilgrim Psalms of ascent sung as a traveler made their way up to
Jerusalem. Singing, “My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and
earth,”6 its confidence is God’s provision through the hills and valleys of life. But
there are other Psalms where we find the Psalmist with his head turned down,
pleading and begging for help on the journey. The refrain from Psalm 13 comes to
mind: “How long O Lord? Will you forget me forever?”7 In wandering with God
we recognize that there are hills and valleys, mountain peaks and dangerous
ravines along the way. Agreeing to the journey does not ignore that these
difficulties exist.
Here’s the thing about the journey, though: there are no aimless wanderers when
God is involved. The journey that Abraham and Sarah agree to in Genesis 12
involves great blessing. The story of Israel begins by blessing these wanderers: it’s
a blessing for land, a name, a great nation of descendants, and for God to bless
others through their journey. Blessing in this story is God’s presence, guidance,
comfort, wisdom, and strength. Abraham and Sarah do not bless themselves or
cause themselves to be blessed—they find blessing from God in their journey.
They discover blessing by being the wanderers, trusting and relying on God
through even the most uncertain and difficult times.
We get confused about this word blessing because too often we associate it with
material wealth and possessions. We refer to our possessions as blessings, the
things we obtain through money and advancement. But blessings are not what we
6
Psalm 121:2.
7
Psalm 13:1.
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* Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation, the written
accounts occasionally stray from proper grammar and punctuation.
provide for ourselves. True blessings come from God and the strength of the Holy
Spirit that guide us. To be blessed is to follow God on the journey, trusting God
through the twists and turns. Blessings are found, discovered, and sought after
when things seem unclear and we can’t find the way forward. If we allow
ourselves to wander, or perhaps get lost, from time to time, we discover the
blessings of God that surround us and help us find our way.
Abraham and Sarah set out on a journey, not knowing where they were going, but
God was with them the whole time. They had reminders, at Shechem and Bethel
particularly, but countless other places too. They weren’t sent and then abandoned;
that’s not the story of journeying with God. They became wanderers, and God
remained their navigation system, blessing them and guiding them through it all.
This is why we remember and recognize their faithfulness. God does some of
God’s best work with those who wander and get lost.
Each of us here has a journey we’ve been on, a story to tell—that’s part of what it
is to be Christian. Faith hardly ever keeps us still. Our father, too, was a wandering
Aramean, and faithful enough to know that God was always guiding him on the
journey. May we have the courage, especially if we’re feeling lost, to believe the
same.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
-5* Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation, the written
accounts occasionally stray from proper grammar and punctuation.