Cast Out This Slave Woman with Her Son

“But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, ‘Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.'” – Genesis 21:9-10

They laughed, the boys at play.
How many mothers watched? But one
saw threat and dissolution of
the wealth expected for her own.

How precious was her Laughter! She
had laughed to hear an angel say
that she would bear a much-desired son,
for she had forced her maid already to

Her husband’s bed, there to conceive
the older laughing child. No wonder that
she laughed, not just at things that could not be,
but that she’d brought an heir to life.

But now, she finds that promises fulfilled
have made a change. The boy she forced
another human being to bear, what is his place?
She could not bear to share the wealth.

“Go, cast them out,” she said to Abraham.
“He cannot have a place beside my son.”
Now Abraham had argued with his God
to find a place for his first born, but no.

He would not argue with his wife. He cast
them out. He knew the skin of water would
not last, and neither would the food. He cast
them out to where the sun would bleach their bones.

They were disposable, these two,
to Sarah and to Abraham. They’d had
a purpose once, but it had flown.
No purpose in the camp? Then go.

Too often and too many people find
they have been named “disposable”
by others with the power to displace
them, cast them out, and let them die.

But God, despite a failure to tell Abraham
and Sarah, “No. You shall not kill,” at least
preserved the lives of Hagar and of Ishamael,
declared that they were not disposable.

How soon will our humanity see what
our sacred texts still strain to see: no people are
disposable. All souls have worth to God,
and if to God, then how much more to us?

A poem/prayer based on Genesis 21:8-21, the Revised Common Lectionary First Reading for Year A, Proper 7 (12).

The image is Agar and Ismael (Hagar and Ishmael) by Jean-Charles Cazin (before 1880) – webmuseo.com, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16403268.

Story: Rolling Stone

April 21, 2024

Acts 4:5-12
1 John 3:16-24

It looked like any other stone that had been tumbled around in the ocean. Not very big. Not very solid. In fact, it was noticeably speckled with holes. The edges of the holes had been smoothed by sand and water moving over it. Eventually, the waves had flung it up on a beach.

And the waves had grabbed it again, so many times, the stone simply couldn’t count them. Not that stones count that well anyway. It had been swept away in the receding waves, then tossed back by the flowing waves, then undermined by another wave going, and pitched up the beach by another wave coming. It was kind of dizzying.

It was also kind of musical. The stone had a lot of company rolling around in the waves, and they rattled against one another as the water pulled away and they rolled together. The music they made, of course, was rock and roll.

If they’d named themselves as a band, I suppose they’d have been the Rolling Stones.

Those days had been exciting, not as exciting as the day it was flung as a hunk of liquid rock into the ocean, but it had been rhythmic and musical and, of course, rock and roll.

With time, however, the beach had grown. New stones, new sand, and new rocks came in with the tides, and the beach expanded further out from where the stone would rest from time to time. Eventually the waves never reached it at all. The stone felt somewhat lost and sad. It felt small. It felt unimportant. It was surrounded by plenty of other stones, but what were they to do except bake in the sun and drip in the rain?

That’s when a seed found its way to the beach, and tumbled down into the space between this stone and the next. It took a rest for a while, and the stone, which had hardly noticed it, forgot all about it – until it began to sprout. A root went down. A shoot came up.

“What are you doing there?” asked the stone.

“I’m growing,” said the plant which had been a seed.

“Why grow next to me?” asked the stone.

“Why not?” asked the seed.

“I’m small and unimportant,” said the stone. “I don’t even make music any more.”

“If you were bigger,” said the plant, “I could never get around you. If you were bigger you’d keep me away from the light. If you were bigger, I’d never find the rain. For me, right now, you’re the most important stone in the world, because you’re here and you’re being exactly what I need.”

The stone started to feel better, but then said, “I’ll still miss the music.”

“Hold that thought,” said the plant.

When it grew tall enough, the wind blew through its leaves with a whistling tone. Below it, the stone’s heart sang.

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

I write these stories ahead of time, then tell them from memory during worship – and make changes as I do. In this case I think all the puns made it into the story when told.

Photo of stones on the beach in Pohoiki by Eric Anderson.