Pentecost 6 Year A

Gen 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Matt 11:16-19, 25-30

Jesus asks, “to what shall I compare this generation?” Then he answers his own rhetorical question. He says this generation is like children taunting each other, dissatisfied with whatever they have. When a merry tune is played, they will not join in and dance, or when mournful song is sung, they refuse to show respect. For Jesus, this image is a parable of the response received by John the Baptist and himself. John came with his sombre call to repentance and with his ascetic practices, and instead of recognising him as God’s messenger, he was labelled as being demon possessed. Jesus, on the other hand, met the socially marginal in society, he ate and drank with them, and the same people said he was a party-animal, not a serious religious figure at all. So, I ask each of you today, “to what should we compare our own generation?” Does anything satisfy us? When we get what we want are we content with it, or are we constantly chopping-and-changing, seeking instant gratification, continually dissatisfied with our leaders, and instead of enjoying what we have we desire to possess more and we are restless for every new distraction? You can tell me afterwards, what parable would you use as a comparison for this generation?
Over the last few weeks, we have been on a journey through the ancient fertile crescent, that tract of land spanning from beyond Ur of the Chaldees in what is modern Iraq, into Jordan, the holy land, and southern Lebanon. We have sat outside a tent at the Oaks of Mamre and seen generous hospitality, and when an aged Sarah was told she would conceive a son she laughed. We have witnessed the birth of that boy Isaac, and last week we visited Mount Moriah (perhaps an earlier name for the Temple Mount in Jerusalem) and we heard an emotionally brutal story of Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son. Today, our reading from Genesis skips chapter 23 where the death of Sarah is recorded along with Abraham’s purchase of the burial site at Hebron, where the tomb of the Patriarchs still stands today. Now we journey with an unnamed, but trusted servant of Abraham back to his homeland in Mesopotamia to secure a wife for Isaac, who is grieving after the loss of his mother. Abraham both sought consolation for Isaac and to ensure an endogamous marriage, that is an in-group marriage. Here the concern is not racial purity, but religious fidelity. Abraham wished to ensure that his descendants remained loyal to his God, and did not assimilate in the worship of Canaanite deities.
Some years ago, when I was a maths teacher in Western Australia, I had a job with distance education. We taught children is remote areas via correspondence. Many people quipped it was the perfect teaching job –teaching without children present. However, alongside students living in isolated outback areas, we also taught those who could not attend regular school: children with debilitating illness, those excluded from school or even incarcerated, and young mothers, to name but a few. There was also another group I came in contact with and got to know quite well – the Exclusive or Plymouth Brethren. In order to be free from worldly influences and the use of technology, Brethren children were not permitted to attend high school with non-Brethren children. Many things fascinated me about the group, including their marriage practices. They married young – typically the men in their early 20s and women any time after the age of 18. However, the young man had to own a home, and have financial resources to make the bride comfortable – and the parents invested much in purchasing houses for their sons. Marriages took place in their Gospel Halls on Tuesdays. I asked why on Tuesdays? I was informed it was to honour the Lord. As is typical, I must have looked confused, but it was explained that Jesus attended the wedding at Cana on the third day – and Sunday was the first day of the week – so I was the maths teacher could figure the rest out. Betrothal was to my mind a strange affair. There were picture books with all the photos of young unmarried brethren people in Australia, and typically potential partners would be found by flicking through pictures, followed by supervised meetings. I was amazed by the process – how could modern people determine their potential partner simply by swiping left or right through a set of photos, with just a few interests listed. I knew that would be a very short-lived way of identifying a partner, and that it would not be accepted outside the narrow confines of the Brethren. As you can see, I am often wrong! Then, when a match was determined, the young man would go to the woman’s location of her home gospel hall to be married, and she would then return with him to his home, which was often interstate and at great distance from her family. In this way, married life was commenced.
Abraham’s servant undertakes a long journey, dismounts his camel and he meets a young woman beside a well, who, according to the story, is fortunately beautiful. However, she is not only beautiful, but more importantly she is kind and considerate and offers to water his camels. For those of you who love academic discussions, that is a massive debate (you can judge for yourselves how important it is) concerning whether camels had actually been domesticated in Mesopotamia in the period in which the story is set, around 1800 BC. Several scholars feel the camels are an anachronistic detail – but I will let you pursue that matter for yourselves. Upon meeting the woman and identifying her as part of Abraham’s wider family group, the servant immediately places a ring on her nose and bracelets on her arms. Yes, I know diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but I am reliably informed that gold and silver are not a bad substitute. After negotiations with Rebekah’s parents and with Rebekah herself giving assent, she makes the journey back to Mamre. I am probably a hopeless romantic, but the final scene is for me one of the most tender human interactions in the whole bible.
Rebekah sees a man in the distance, she dismounts her anachronistic camel, veils herself in an act of modesty. The servant informs Isaac that is to be his wife. There seems to be genuine love between the two of them, and we are told Isaac was comforted by Rebekah after the death of his mother. My Brethren friends, who were well-versed in scripture, told me they held to the belief that God worked through godly families. They cited Prov 30:18-19 as a justification, which describes four things too wonderful for understanding. The first three seem somewhat mundane – the way of an eagle in the sky, how a snake moves over a rock, a ship on the high seas, and then the climax – the way of a man with a young-women. For my Brethren friends, the love expressed between two young people had an extra dimension. There was a mystical and sacred element. Perhaps this is why the story of Isaac and Rebekah warms our hearts. Isaac, that least prominent of the three great patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, is in some ways the most human and relatable. A traumatic childhood experience, the loss of his mother, and yet despite the adversity, he becomes a devoted partner and a person generally of good character.
However, there is a danger if we read this story simply like a romantic novel – which, may I assure you, is not a genre of which I partake. For most people the truth is that life is messy, human relationships are often problematic, and even with those that endure there is typically great pain when a life partner is taken away by death. In fact, I have spoken with several of you, and I know many here feel that overwhelming pain of the loss of that special person who was your own Rebekah or Isaac. That person you loved faithfully and deeply. Many of you have told me that you would never have been without that person, yet now during this season of loss your hearts are heavy and you wonder if that feeling that was too wonderful for understanding can ever be renewed. By contrast, others here have spoken with me about the fear of never finding that deep connection and true human love. These are real and keen human feelings, and should never be minimised. Loss of a loved one, or the lack of love are debilitating to human flourishing, and can lead to questioning one’s own sense of self-worth.
So, to what should we compare our generation? Are we like children who are constantly wanting to be entertained, then we find ourselves over-stimulated, and unable to rest. We can be constantly chasing the latest fad. Or perhaps we engage in radical self-denial, rather than giving ourselves over to the excesses of self-gratification. Are we simply acting as infants in the modern marketplace of pursuing unfulfilling acts of personal experience? Yet, there is another way. The great theologian of the fourth and fifth centuries, Augustine of Hippo, diagnosed the problem of his own generation when he wrote, “O Lord, our hearts are restless, until they find their rest in you.” Yet today we can have rest. For this day Jesus calls us, with that sure yet comforting voice as he says, “Come,” “Come unto me.” He calls those who are feeling the keen pain of loss of a loved one, he calls those who feel they are undeserving of being loved, he calls those burdened with the pressures of modern life, he calls those constantly chasing fulfilment, he calls those who are confused and uncertain, he calls those battling with illness and grief, in fact now at this moment, he calls you and he calls me, and he offers rest for our innermost being. He comes to us as one gentle and humble of heart, and he offers us a peace that the world cannot give, and he removes the heavy burdens from our shoulders. So today, I simply offer you Jesus’ own words of comfort to those of you who are burdened, and to those of you who have never truly come to him before. In this place, at this moment, please hear those most comforting words of Jesus, lay down your burdens at his feet, for he says to each of us now, “Come unto me all you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” Amen.