How to have law and order without tyranny? That is the question. Israel began as a rather loosely connected tribal confederacy. The Israelite tribes were led by charismatic leaders, or judges, under the divine direction of Yahweh. They were supposed to be knit together in one harmonious unit. They would avoid the tyranny, which was the result of being governed by a king. Instead, they would have Yahweh alone as their king. It sounded good, and certainly the book of the Judges reflects moments of such peaceful unity, but reality was often quite different.
Israel was a very marginal community, economically weak, living under constant threat from the Philistines and getting mired in all sorts of tribal violence, brutality, and moral chaos. The situation is summed up at the end of the book of Judges: "In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes" (21:25).
We start where we have been before, with human inadequacy, with desperate need, moral failure, or, as it is often symbolized, with barrenness. Last week it was Naomi and Ruth. But the motif is common in the scriptures: We can remember Sarah, who had to wait for Isaac; Rachel, who had to wait for Joseph; Elizabeth waiting for John the Baptist. Facing infertility puts us in a hard place — to relinquish control and look to God. We are asked to believe that, in the midst of barren hopelessness, we can still know fruitful waiting and God's ultimate gift.
The issue is presented today through the story of the birth of Samuel. There is the Israelite Elkanah, with his two wives, Hannah and Peninnah. Elkanah loved Hannah, but because she did not conceive, Elkanah had taken a second wife, Peninnah, who bore many sons and daughters.
Not only was Peninnah prolific, it says she was also irritating, always provoking poor Hannah over the issue of progeny. Hannah wept and would not eat, so Elkanah, as a solicitous husband, tries to comfort her. It is hard to say if he is endearing or just self-important: "Why do you weep? ... Am I not more to you than ten sons?" (1 Samuel 1:8).
It was their custom to go regularly to the temple at Shiloh, which was the sacred place for the tribal confederacy. They would offer sacrifice there, then share the leftovers from the sacrifice, as was customary. Hannah was too distressed to eat, but wept bitterly and prayed to the Lord, making a vow: "O Lord of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head" (1:11). This is a rather detailed way of saying he will be a dedicated priest to the Lord!
Hannah goes on weeping and praying silently. Eli the priest is sitting there, watching her. Eli is old, and his faculties aren't that good. He sees Hanna's lips moving, but hears nothing, so he misinterprets what he sees. He scolds Hannah: "How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine!" Hannah respectfully corrects him. "I am not a good for nothing [daughter of Belial], like you think. I am a woman deeply troubled and I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord." Recognizing that she is a faithful woman, Eli blesses her saying, "Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him" (1:17).
Since this affirmation comes from the high priest in the story, Hannah and the story assumes that it is a done deal. Like Mary, Hannah does not doubt "that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord" (Luke 1:45).
The family goes home and Hannah conceives and bears a son. She names him Samuel, for she said, "I have asked him of the Lord." This is the popular etymology in the text, tying it in with the story. Samuel is "he who is asked," shaul. El is God. So, one could say, he is "Shauled of God." With this play on words, there is the suggestion that this child, Samuel, will lead to the first king, Saul, who will, indeed be anointed by Samuel. So we are at that complicated point where, although the tradition had dismissed the idea of a king, now Israel is moving toward one.
We are given the birth of Samuel, which proves to be the start of a sequence of great leaders in Israel: Samuel, then Saul, then David, then Solomon. These are kings with great ambition: to liberate and gather the tribes, to protect and defend them, and to make legitimate the existence of Israel. The climax of all of this was, of course, the eschatological hope for a new David, the great king who would come to make all things right. Here, of course, is where the church saw in the coming of Jesus the birth of a great king, a descendant of David, who would set us free.
In summary, then, the story begins in barrenness — a closed door, no hint of a future, no hope at all. But God is in charge and is never doubted in the narrative. Hannah prays in trust, "Remember me. Do not forget your servant." Yahweh is trustworthy and remembers! Hannah is faithful and gives thanks, offering her son to the Lord. Israel's life is made anew through the power and fidelity of God, which is evoked by lowly Hannah. The life and future of the whole community is renewed and Israel will have its mighty David.
However, Israel will be inordinately impressed with the power and pomp of the Davidic kingdom. Saul, David, and Solomon would come to have failings and sins probably equal to their gifts and virtues, with the result that many in Israel, especially the prophets, would question the value of the empire. The prophet Micah would preview Jesus' judgment by saying, "Zion shall be plowed as a field; Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the house a wooded height" (Micah 3:12).
It is in the gospel for today (Mark 13:1-8) that Jesus also gets to denounce the empire. According to Mark, this is the only time the disciples make the trip to the big city of Jerusalem. When they see the second temple, which King Herod had constructed as quite a showpiece, they gawk like some Galilean hayseeds: "Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!" (v. 1).
Jesus dampens their excitement: "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down" (v. 2). It is true not only of temples, but also of palaces; of priests and princes; of heroes and stars — all will be thrown down. In the midst of such impermanence, we seek stability; in the midst of chaos, we seek order; in the mist of insecurity, we seek certitude.
The disciples sought such certitude. They were impressed with the empire, at least with its manifestation in great stones and great buildings. Jesus remarks on the impermanence of it all. The gospel lesson is part of what we call Mark's little apocalypse. It talks of judgment, but unlike the popular abuse of this language, it is cautious in its vision. It says, do not be alarmed. The end is still to come. This is only the beginning of the birth pangs. It is about God's ultimate judgment over all human pretense.
Empire, with all its pretense and brutality, lacks permanence. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. All will be thrown down in the end. In the midst of this human failure, the gospel calls us to trust in a God who is faithful to God's promises.
Our second lesson today, Hebrews 10:11-25, locates the fulfillment of that promise in the Christ. It says that, having sacrificed himself for us, Christ has sat down at the right hand of God, and since then, is waiting until his enemies will be made a footstool for his feet. This is a different sort of empire we await. It is the power of the lamb, the one who is trustworthy.
So, like Hannah, we present ourselves before the Lord. In the words of the psalm for today we pray:
Protect me, O God, for in you I take refuge. I say to the Lord, "You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you." ... The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot ... I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me. I keep the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices; my body also rests secure. For you do not give me up to Sheol, or let your faithful one see the Pit. You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures for evermore. — Psalm 16:2, 5, 7-11
Amen.