Hannah's Song
I have grown to love the eucharistic prayer of Great Thanksgiving that we confess every Sunday in church: “It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth.”
Always and everywhere to give thanks to you.
I turned 50 this year. I don’t remember too much about my other decade birthdays - if I ventured to guess I would say when I turned 20 it was insignificant in my continually striving for the future and no thought of aging or of having completed a decade of living or the new decade to come. 30 was a daze, kids and surgeries and life. 40, I would say was turmoil, divorce and striving to survive. But 50, in thinking of celebrating this fiftieth year, I found some joy and relaxing and breathing a sigh of relief in a sense.
Life surely does not look anything like I would have imagined or ever thought in my 20’s or my 30’s. A non-traditional family of sorts but much love and laughter and somehow we survived. Life has not always been a rose garden, (few have lives that are), but 50 gave me space to ask, “What is it that you would like to do to celebrate this year of life?” and sailing came to mind. So I went. And I was fortunate enough to have the means to do so. And it was joyous. And I was grateful.
The lectionary gospel readings have been from the Gospel of Mark, and this week actually marks the end of the semi-continuous reading in Mark. The Gospel passage this morning speaks of end times, and it is serious, and somewhat of a downer in a way. And so today, I have chosen to head to the Old Testament - for a little joy. (Not the typical place a preacher might want to head for joy), but the story is one where God took great heartache and turned it into something beautiful. It has lessons for us all.
The story of Hannah in 1 Samuel about the birth of Samuel, echoes similar stories about barren women who gave birth to a special child late in life due to the special favor of God—Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson's unnamed (!) mother, and Elizabeth in Luke's gospel.
There is little else that evokes as much joy and gratitude more than the birth of a baby.
Hannah's Song is used today for the Psalm from 1 Samuel 2, exudes gratitude and thanks: "My heart rejoices in the Lord; / in the Lord my horn is lifted high."
This might well be a literary model for Mary's Magnificat.
The Lord we are told has closed Hannah’s womb and she has not had a child. God reverses Hannah's bad fortune. He remembered her "bitterness of soul... much weeping… deep troubles, … and great anguish."
We are reminded that God alone is in control. And so in 1 Samuel 1:20 Hannah named her baby Samuel, "Because I asked the Lord for him." The name Samuel means "God has heard.”
Hannah was grateful. Joy and gratitude in our broken world can sometimes strike a false note. They can feel platitudinous and glib. I cringe sometimes as I flip through social media where God is being praised for one thing with little acknowledgement that God was also present during the hard things. Isn't it presumptuous to claim God's personal favor? A narcissistic indulgence? And what about the millions who suffer and all the unanswered prayers?
Those are important questions. But I will not dwell here today. The audacious idea of the personal care of a transcendent God isn't an evangelical invention. It is not new. It’s a gift of the Hebrew imagination. The Hebrew nation was aware that blessing came from God. And they expressed thanks. They were grateful.
I have found in my own life, and as I turn 50 and contemplate the next 35 years or so, that it is this thing called gratitude that most specifically affects how I am in this world.
Hannah in a sense, is a foremother of Elizabeth and Mary in her expression of giving thanks to God. Hannah responded to God blessing her with a child with an expression of praise.
I heard of a preacher Jim Forbes, who once shared in a sermon that if his wife would have another child, another daughter, he would name her Hannah Rose. He would take the noun, Hannah, in this passage, and put it with the verb in the passage, “Rose”. He wanted to acknowledge that Hannah, after she had made her petition to God, after she cried out to God and prayed with all she had, she rose. She went home. Her countenance changed. She had done all she could and it says she was sad no longer.
There is a lesson in this. After we have cried out to God, after we have wept and expressed and care and concern, it is time to rise. It is time to rise and recognize that it is in God’s hands. And it should change our countenance.
I will mention that in this passage, the priest, thought she as drunk. The priest did not recognize authentic, heart-anguishing prayer. He thought she was slightly off. Hannah risked being misunderstood, misplaced - in the one place she should have found support, the Temple. Once Hannah explained herself, the priest affirmed her request that the God of Israel grant her petition.
Hannah goes home with a different attitude.
1 Samuel 2 is written, recording Hannah’s song of praise.
A response to God’s blessing in our life is one of praise.
There is a poem by Jane Kenyon (1947-1995) entitled, “Otherwise”
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
The poem recognizes the simple gifts of ordinary life with the recognition that life is short and that one day, things will be otherwise. It recognizes that the ordinary routines of our days can cause us to cultivate gratitude, for one day they will be gone.
I am grateful for this 50th year of life. Life has not always turned out as I would have liked. Hard things happen and we are required to go on. Fervent prayer has not always changed things. It is interesting in the passage that Hannah got up and went home and “her countenance was sad no longer” but she didn’t know if God had granted her request or not yet. Her countenance shifting was not dependent on her request being granted, her countenance shifted in her expressing her desire. Something shifted in her once she got her request out. She knew at the very least that she had done her part, she had let God know of her anguish and her request.
Though there is no guarantee that God will grant our requests, we are guaranteed that God hears our prayers. And though life may be different than what many of us imagined, we all have blessings and gifts of ordinary life for which we can be thankful.
We are entering the season of Thanksgiving and Advent. Times that we pause and recognize our gifts and express gratitude. It may be something as simple as the eating bowl of cereal, “sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach”.
The English mystic Julia of Norwich wrote,
"The greatest honor we can give almighty God is to live gladly because of the knowledge of his love.”
That is something I can agree with.
Amen.
Always and everywhere to give thanks to you.
I turned 50 this year. I don’t remember too much about my other decade birthdays - if I ventured to guess I would say when I turned 20 it was insignificant in my continually striving for the future and no thought of aging or of having completed a decade of living or the new decade to come. 30 was a daze, kids and surgeries and life. 40, I would say was turmoil, divorce and striving to survive. But 50, in thinking of celebrating this fiftieth year, I found some joy and relaxing and breathing a sigh of relief in a sense.
Life surely does not look anything like I would have imagined or ever thought in my 20’s or my 30’s. A non-traditional family of sorts but much love and laughter and somehow we survived. Life has not always been a rose garden, (few have lives that are), but 50 gave me space to ask, “What is it that you would like to do to celebrate this year of life?” and sailing came to mind. So I went. And I was fortunate enough to have the means to do so. And it was joyous. And I was grateful.
The lectionary gospel readings have been from the Gospel of Mark, and this week actually marks the end of the semi-continuous reading in Mark. The Gospel passage this morning speaks of end times, and it is serious, and somewhat of a downer in a way. And so today, I have chosen to head to the Old Testament - for a little joy. (Not the typical place a preacher might want to head for joy), but the story is one where God took great heartache and turned it into something beautiful. It has lessons for us all.
The story of Hannah in 1 Samuel about the birth of Samuel, echoes similar stories about barren women who gave birth to a special child late in life due to the special favor of God—Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson's unnamed (!) mother, and Elizabeth in Luke's gospel.
There is little else that evokes as much joy and gratitude more than the birth of a baby.
Hannah's Song is used today for the Psalm from 1 Samuel 2, exudes gratitude and thanks: "My heart rejoices in the Lord; / in the Lord my horn is lifted high."
This might well be a literary model for Mary's Magnificat.
The Lord we are told has closed Hannah’s womb and she has not had a child. God reverses Hannah's bad fortune. He remembered her "bitterness of soul... much weeping… deep troubles, … and great anguish."
We are reminded that God alone is in control. And so in 1 Samuel 1:20 Hannah named her baby Samuel, "Because I asked the Lord for him." The name Samuel means "God has heard.”
Hannah was grateful. Joy and gratitude in our broken world can sometimes strike a false note. They can feel platitudinous and glib. I cringe sometimes as I flip through social media where God is being praised for one thing with little acknowledgement that God was also present during the hard things. Isn't it presumptuous to claim God's personal favor? A narcissistic indulgence? And what about the millions who suffer and all the unanswered prayers?
Those are important questions. But I will not dwell here today. The audacious idea of the personal care of a transcendent God isn't an evangelical invention. It is not new. It’s a gift of the Hebrew imagination. The Hebrew nation was aware that blessing came from God. And they expressed thanks. They were grateful.
I have found in my own life, and as I turn 50 and contemplate the next 35 years or so, that it is this thing called gratitude that most specifically affects how I am in this world.
Hannah in a sense, is a foremother of Elizabeth and Mary in her expression of giving thanks to God. Hannah responded to God blessing her with a child with an expression of praise.
I heard of a preacher Jim Forbes, who once shared in a sermon that if his wife would have another child, another daughter, he would name her Hannah Rose. He would take the noun, Hannah, in this passage, and put it with the verb in the passage, “Rose”. He wanted to acknowledge that Hannah, after she had made her petition to God, after she cried out to God and prayed with all she had, she rose. She went home. Her countenance changed. She had done all she could and it says she was sad no longer.
There is a lesson in this. After we have cried out to God, after we have wept and expressed and care and concern, it is time to rise. It is time to rise and recognize that it is in God’s hands. And it should change our countenance.
I will mention that in this passage, the priest, thought she as drunk. The priest did not recognize authentic, heart-anguishing prayer. He thought she was slightly off. Hannah risked being misunderstood, misplaced - in the one place she should have found support, the Temple. Once Hannah explained herself, the priest affirmed her request that the God of Israel grant her petition.
Hannah goes home with a different attitude.
1 Samuel 2 is written, recording Hannah’s song of praise.
A response to God’s blessing in our life is one of praise.
There is a poem by Jane Kenyon (1947-1995) entitled, “Otherwise”
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
The poem recognizes the simple gifts of ordinary life with the recognition that life is short and that one day, things will be otherwise. It recognizes that the ordinary routines of our days can cause us to cultivate gratitude, for one day they will be gone.
I am grateful for this 50th year of life. Life has not always turned out as I would have liked. Hard things happen and we are required to go on. Fervent prayer has not always changed things. It is interesting in the passage that Hannah got up and went home and “her countenance was sad no longer” but she didn’t know if God had granted her request or not yet. Her countenance shifting was not dependent on her request being granted, her countenance shifted in her expressing her desire. Something shifted in her once she got her request out. She knew at the very least that she had done her part, she had let God know of her anguish and her request.
Though there is no guarantee that God will grant our requests, we are guaranteed that God hears our prayers. And though life may be different than what many of us imagined, we all have blessings and gifts of ordinary life for which we can be thankful.
We are entering the season of Thanksgiving and Advent. Times that we pause and recognize our gifts and express gratitude. It may be something as simple as the eating bowl of cereal, “sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach”.
The English mystic Julia of Norwich wrote,
"The greatest honor we can give almighty God is to live gladly because of the knowledge of his love.”
That is something I can agree with.
Amen.