Old Testament: Genesis 18:1-15
One of my favorite parts of this morning’s reading from Genesis is one I think is often passed over. “[A]nd he stood by them under the tree while they ate.”[1] And he stood by them under the tree while they ate. Why, you may be asking, is this the phrase that stands out? What’s so special about it? My answer is simple. It indicates two things I think we’re each called to do: pause and be present.
Pause and be present.
First, the pause. These 11 words come right on the heels of intense activity, a rush of movement and preparation in the minutes after God appears in the form of three visitors at the front of Abraham’s tent. It’s a hot day, one of those hot days when the pull we feel may often be to avoid activity and simply grab a cold drink and, well, be lazy. That’s where we find Abraham on this particular hot day, a day described in one commentary as one “when the landscape turns hazy and one’s vision is blurred.”[2]
But then God appears, and the laziness of the day becomes secondary to Abraham. He greets them. He invites them to stay, bathe themselves, eat, and rest. It’s then the motion begins. Abraham already has run from his tent to greet the three who appeared before him. Now, he hastens into the tent to ask Sarah to make cakes for them to eat. Then he runs to his herd to select a calf with which to feed them and which his servant hastens to prepare.
On this hot, hazy, blurry day when inactivity may perhaps be desired, we instead find frenzied activity. In that time, even as now, hospitality was highly valued, and “[n]o exertion, even on behalf of total strangers, is too much where hospitality is concerned.”[3] The heat didn’t matter; taking care of the visitors did.
It’s then that Abraham, after making sure his guests had everything he could possibly need, steps aside. He takes up his spot under a tree near them. He takes time to catch his breath.
He pauses.
Pauses in life are important things. They may not always come in the ways in which we expect, as with the extended pause in in-person communal worship and life in the world around us during the pandemic. They may hit us with an impact that’s not even expected, in sudden encounters or moments that catch us completely off guard or emotionally unprepared. They may even come when we don’t want them, moments when we want to push through and get just one more thing accomplished or just one more project finished and instead find our bodies and minds telling us, “No, let’s stop for a while. We need rest.”
Pauses are crucial to our health. Pauses are crucial to maintaining some sense of being centered and grounded. Pauses are crucial if we are to hear the voice of God, especially when our own activity and our own voices are blocking out the one above all others that we really need to hear.
Then there’s presence. In those first moments after his guests had been served, Abraham didn’t go anywhere. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything. He was simply there, exercising perhaps the most important pastoral duty that anyone, lay or ordained, can do.
Presence works when actions can’t or don’t do the trick. Presence speaks when words fail. Presence demonstrates love and compassion in a way that perhaps nothing else can. There have been many times in my ministry when presence was all I had to offer. I couldn’t offer true empathy with those with whom I was sitting. I couldn’t say to any of them “I understand” and have my understanding be anything close to the realities of the life and the world confronting them.
What I could – and can – do was be a visible sign of our Baptismal Covenant. What I could – and can – do is seek and serve Christ in all persons. What I could – and can – do is love my neighbor as I love myself. What I could – and can – do is work for that day when divisions may cease and we all live as one. In doing that on those days, if in the end there’s nothing more than my hearing “Thank you for being here!” I know that I’ve done and am doing what needs to be done, simply by being there.
Simply by being present. And you can, too.
When a family member or friend or loved one is in physical or emotional pain, our gut instinct may be to do something. Friends, we don’t have to do anything. Words may not be called for; action may be inappropriate. But being there, being present, is always sufficient.
Abraham did all he could, and then he stepped to the side. He paused. He breathed. He was present. In moments of stress and separation in our own lives, when all else seems to fail us, when nothing else seems to be working in our work for others, may we always remember to do those two things.
Pause and be present.
[1] Genesis 18:8 (NRSV).
[2] E. A. Speiser. Genesis, note 1, p. 129.
[3] Speiser, note 2, p. 129.