In 2001 I went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land where we visited all the important sites: the Sea of Galilee, the Jordan River, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the western wall of the Temple, known as the Wailing Wall. Because I asked our guides lots and lots of questions, and because I was the only female pastor among numerous Southern Baptist ministers and, if I’m honest, because I was single and in my mid 30’s, the younger of the two guides asked if I wanted to visit someplace NOT on the itinerary with him.

We were in Jerusalem and that evening there was a lecture at the Museum of the Bible. We could attend the lecture and grab a bite to eat afterwards. I was desperate to get out of the group tour and really interested in the lecture which would feature both a Jewish and Islamic scholar talking about their differing perspectives on biblical texts. Thankfully it would be in English!

The evening was a mind-blowing experience. It was exciting to hear an engaged, scholarly audience from many different backgrounds discussing the texts in an intense but polite and respectful way. Around us the Second Intifada was raging and there was increasing violence and fear, but here was another side of common life in the Middle East where Jewish and Palestinian citizens could reason together.

The other revelation was both simple and profound. One of the most powerful religious stories has God asking Abraham to sacrifice his son. When Abraham is poised to do so in faith and obedience, God provides a ram for the sacrifice, the son is spared and becomes the founder of a great faith tradition.

The Jewish and Islamic scholars agreed upon the basics of the story.  It is recorded in both the Torah, the sacred Scriptures of the Jewish people and in the Koran, the sacred Scriptures of the Islamic people.  What was almost shocking to me was learning that for Jews that beloved son, Abraham’s only son, Isaac was the subject of the sacrifice.  But for Muslims, the beloved son is Ishmael.  He is a great prophet in Islam and the ancestor of Mohammed. 

Abraham is considered the Father of three great monotheistic religions, Judaism, Islam and Christianity.  The conflict and differences between these siblings continue to this day.  The jealousy, distrust and hatred go along with the sharing of a common history, landscape and ancestor.  You can view the holy Scriptures as both family stories attempting to describe and explain political realities and as family dynamics that work themselves out through the generations with broader political implications. 

In the story from Genesis today, we are in the middle of the conflict.  God has promised Abram and Sarai that he will be the father of many nations and their descendants will be as numerous as the grains of sand at the sea.  But Sarai is barren and way past childbearing age and still has not conceived.  She asks Abram to take on a concubine, a slave woman, Hagar and when he reluctantly does so, she immediately conceives.  Sarai’s grief, bitterness and jealousy show up in her abusive treatment towards Hagar and Hagar runs away. 

Hagar seems to have a particularly intimate relationship with God.  She hears God, she listens and obeys.  God asks her to return and give birth to her promised son who will also be the father of a great nation.  She returns and Ishmael, Abraham’s son is born.

Then God fulfills the promise to Abraham and Sarah and she miraculously conceives and gives birth to Isaac.  Now the problems are exacerbated.  Not only is Sarah jealous, but she fears for the future of her son since Ishmael is the firstborn and potentially the heir.  She tells Abraham to cast Hagar and Ishmael out into the wilderness where they are nearly certain to die. 

This is where Abraham’s failure is greatest.  He sends a powerless, slave woman who he had used and his own young son away.  As a father, he chooses to abandon and reject his child.  It may break his heart but still he does it.

This is the text chosen for us on this Father’s Day?!  Hmmm.  Last month I was preaching on the complicated nature of Mother’s Day, but at least no one was in danger of dying in those readings! 

Father’s Day is complicated as well.  Many of us have fathers who are no longer living but still cast a big shadow.  Others have fathers and grandfathers they are still trying to live up to.  Some have been abandoned by birth fathers and looked instead to mentors and guides to serve in that role.  Changes in societal expectations have made the role of fathers more complicated.  On the one hand, fathers are spending more time sharing childrearing responsibilities and on the other hand, efforts to bring back traditional gender roles assigning caregiving of children primarily to women are upsetting gains in feminism and the security of many same-gender parenting relationships. 

Fatherhood is complicated.  Few fathers are contemplating sending their partner and child out into the wilderness as Father Abraham did, but we have all read the stories of men killing their families and then themselves, of fathers refusing to provide support, abandoning children from a former relationship or showing preference to their direct descendants over step-children.

Sometimes it’s more subtle.  Busy lives and commitments make it difficult to spend time with your children.  Stresses and pressure may bring a short temper, misunderstanding, and a lack of patience.  Like Abraham, many fathers feel conflicted and sometimes powerless to fix a difficult relationship or situation.  Many dads are doing the best they can without role models or support that would really help.

My father died 25 years ago at age 71.  We had a complicated relationship.  I was his eldest and I adored him from an early age.  He was larger than life, enthusiastic, active, curious, intelligent, handsome and a good athlete.  He swept my quieter mother off her feet.  As a father, he was eager to create someone in his image, to share his interests, be a companion in adventure and agree with his opinions.  I was his mini-me and acolyte and he challenged me to succeed and heaped praise on me when I did.

But children grow up and become more and more independent.  We had epic disagreements.  I moved out right after high school.  I became a Christian when my father was an adamant existentialist and atheist.  He was baffled and hurt by my choices.  I was angry and resentful of him.  I prayed for reconciliation.  I prayed that he would become and Christian and made our relationship worse by telling him so!  We went our separate ways.  I started going to Adult Children of Alcoholics to try and understand our family dynamics.  He retired early to enjoy life more fully.

And then, one day, literally out of nowhere, after years of trying to get my dad to understand me, apologize to me and change his behavior.  After years of praying, talking and trying it suddenly washed over me.  It was a feeling and realization that came from outside of me, from God.  I could forgive my father and love him for who he was.  I remember exactly where we were standing in the house that we just sold 35 years later.  I think I even said “I forgive you,” but he didn’t know where that was coming from or the depth of the release I was experiencing. 

It’s not that he didn’t still irritate me or have the power to hurt me, but I wasn’t holding onto it anymore.  It was an incredible sense of freedom – a gift from God.  And it came just in the nick of time.  Just two years later he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.  Over a long and painful decline we visited regularly and our conversations became deeper and more real.  He talked about his views and feelings about death.  We discussed my faith.  He even asked me if I would deliver the eulogy at his memorial. 

Just a month before he died, when he was no longer talking or able to care for himself, I visited him.  He was struggling to speak and I tried to help or guess what he was trying to say, but it wasn’t going anywhere.  I didn’t know how much of “him” was still inside his body and mind that had been ravaged by disease.  Finally, he slowly got out three precious words.  “You are remarkable.”  A final blessing from an imperfect but dearly loved father.

As a new Christian, when I first read Jesus’s words “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.”  And “one’s foes will be members of one’s own household,” I thought it affirmed my own resentments towards my family and because they weren’t Christian, I could comfort myself when our relationship was strained.

What I have learned is that no father or mother can ever meet all our needs for affirmation, understanding, support, comfort and inspiration.  We idealize parental and other love relationships because we need and desire so much more than they are able to deliver.  Our hearts are hungry for the eternal, the immense love of God which overarches every human relationship and is the grounding and basis for all love.  When we lose or let go of our life; our expectations, disappointments, resentments and judgements, then we open up the space to receive forgiveness, reconciliation, delight, connection and the deep richness of a love that can never die.  Then we find our life, the best and truest it can be.

My father has been dead a long time and yet he is still with me.  What lasts is his belief in me, his support and affirmation and the fact that he probably understood me much more than I gave him credit for.  God’s gift of forgiveness and acceptance gave us back to one another. 

The place where God provides water in the wilderness so that Hagar and Ishmael survive is now the Kabba, the holy of holies within the pilgrimage site that all Muslims are encouraged to visit at least once in a lifetime.  And the seven trips pilgrims make within Mecca, memorialize the 7 desperate journeys Hagar made searching for water for her son, Ishmael. 

Now, thousands of years after the death of both his sons, Abrahams heirs continue to worship God in Jerusalem, Mecca, Rome and in every place where God is praised and love dwells.  Amen.