A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — August 15, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts: Genesis 32:22-32

Then he said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob,

with humans and have prevailed.”—Genesis 32:28

In “The Miracle Worker” (the story of Helen Keller), there’s a scene where this same scripture is read as a table blessing for a Thanksgiving meal.  When the mother objects that it’s inappropriate for the occasion, the reader (I think his name is Jim) says that surely any passage from the Good Book is always appropriate.  Besides, since the turkey’s leg is out of joint, the passage is clearly pertinent.

The Bible can be twisted for almost anything.  Still, this passage does raise and answer some questions, but surely it raises far more than it answers.  We hear answers to three unspoken “Why?” questions—why the name Israel (it means “one who strives with God”), why the place name Peniel (it means “the face of God”), and finally why the dietary restriction against eating a part of an animal’s thigh muscle (this is where Jacob was struck).  But the entire story itself—well one commentary makes the statement that “there is no more strange and perplexing narrative than this in the whole of the Old Testament” (Cambridge Commentary).  Perhaps it is appropriate that a story about a great struggle—about Jacob wrestling with with…(well that’s a real questions—with what or whom is Jacob wrestling?)—perhaps it is appropriate that this story of struggle should require some amount of struggling to wrestle meaning from it.

 

A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — August 8, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Psalm 145;  Genesis 12:10-20

Sermon Text — Genesis 12:10-20 (my own translation)
Now there was a famine in the land, so Abram went down to Egypt to reside there a while as an alien because the famine was so severe. Now when he was about to enter Egypt, he said to his woman Sarai, “Please consider this. I know that you are a woman beautiful to behold. Thus when they see you, the Egyptians will say, ‘This is his woman,’ and they will slay me, but you they will let live. Please say you are my sister, in order that it will go well for me on your account, and my life may be spared for your sake.

_____________

 

This story of Abram and Sarai—who are later to be renamed Abraham and Sarah—must surely be one of the stranger stories in Genesis.  We’ve only just met them.  Immediately before this, God promises Abram blessings beyond measure, and Abram packs up his family and belongings and sets out on a journey into the unknown.  The Apostle Paul views this response as the supreme example of faith.  Yet here comes a story full of trickery and deception.  It looks like Abram and Sarai have gotten off on the wrong foot.  What are we to make of it?  It’s nearly impossible to find a commentary that does not condemn Abram for his actions.  Nearly all talk about what God demands from Abram and fault him for falling short of God’s demands.

 

A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — July 18, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Text:  Psalm 103;  Luke 13:1-9

He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year,
until I dig around it and put manure on it.” — Luke 13:8

Does anyone here know who Frank Richard Stockton was?  I had to check Google to recall the name of this author of a very well-known story—perhaps the most famous mystery tale ever written that doesn’t have an ending.  Frank Richard Stockton wrote “The Lady or the Tiger?” more than 125 years ago.  Does anyone remember anything else he wrote?  Somewhere I have a copy of The Griffin and the Minor Canon.  There’s a storry called The Bee-Man of Orn illustrated that appeared in a children's picture book edition in the mid-60s illustrated by Maurice Sendak.

“The Lady or the Tiger” is one of the most frustrating stories ever!  In it a man is sentenced to an unusual punishment for having a romance with the king’s daughter.  As the tale comes to a close, he is taken to a public arena where he must choose between two doors.  Behind one is a hungry tiger that will devour him, and behind the other is a beautiful lady-in-waiting, a rival to the princess, whom he will have to marry right then and there. As the crowd waits anxiously for his decision, he sees the princess among the spectators, who points him to the door on the right. The lover starts to open the door and… Here’s where I should say, “Spoiler alert,”  except there’s nothing to spoil.  The story ends abruptly with a question for the reader, “Which came out of the opened door—the lady or the tiger?”

 

A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — July 11, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Texts:  Deuteronomy 6:4-9;  Luke 10:25-37

[The lawyer said], “You shall love the Lord your God with
all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength,
and with all your mind;  and your neighbor as yourself.”
…[then he asked Jesus], “And who is my neighbor?” — Luke 10:23, 29

How can we hear this story with new ears?  We know it too well.  We’ve named it “The Good Samaritan,” and that name has become a watchword for care-giving.  We have Good Sam hospitals and civic awards, as well as Good Samaritan laws to protect people who offer first aid.  If you stop to give someone you don’t know a helping hand, you’re a Good Samaritan.  Now, there’s nothing wrong with doing that.  But we’ve watered down the story Jesus told when a lawyer asked him, “Who is my neighbor?”  Perhaps if Jesus were telling his story today, he might tell this true story from 2007 about a car accident in the Arizona desert.

While driving on a U.S. Forest Service Road, a 45-year-old mother lost control of her van, which went off a curve, rolled into a canyon, and ended up 300 feet off the road with the mother pinned inside.  Her 9-year-old son was unhurt and able to crawl back up to the road for help.  For several hours no one came by.  Finally someone came walking down the road.  His name was Jesus… Jesus Manuel Cordova, to be precise.  He’d come across the border from Mexico illegally and had been walking for two days.  It wasn’t in his best interest to linger or call attention to himself.  But the boy clearly needed help.  So Jesus stopped.  How did they communicate—a boy who knew no Spanish and a traveler from the wrong side of the border who knew almost no English?  Perhaps because both understood the language of need.  Unable to pull the mother out of the van, Jesus stayed with boy, giving him his jacket and building a bonfire as the temperature dropped with nightfall.  Sometime in the night, the mother died.  Finally in the morning some hunters came by and called for help.  The boy was airlifted to a hospital in Tucson, and Jesus Manuel Cordova was taken into custody by Border Patrol agents who were the first to respond to the call for help.  He was deported. ¹