Adam J. Copeland

FPC Hallock

Nov 15, 2009

Hannah

1 Samuel 1:4-20

I have a book entitled “Men and Women of the Word” in which the author, Jaroslav Vajda, has written reflections on famous or not so famous biblical characters. So when I come across a text like today’s 1 Samuel passage about Hannah, I always pull it out for inspiration.

But call me unlucky, or call Mr. Vajda too picky, but I’ve had this book for seven years and never, not once, have I found a passage on the character I was looking for. This week is no different. Hannah didn’t make the cut.

Though I admit, when I was stymied one more time, a part of me relaxed because there’s a danger in what Vajda does in the book. You know it all too well since it happens every day on our TVs and in our celebrity magazines. Call it our celebrity syndrome — making people larger than life and above condemnation.

So a part of me is always relieved when Vajda’s book, “Men and Women of the Word” turns up nothing one more time. It’s all too easy to take a Biblical passage about God and make it solely about an individual. It’s just too easy to say something overly simplistic like: preach the gospel like Paul, or be wise like Solomon. So we must be careful to keep perspective and remember that even biblical characters are sinful humans.

But even still, Hannah is a pretty safe bet to emulate; she’s real, she’s tough, she’s emotional, she’s faithful, and God hears her prayer.

When we open the book of Samuel, things are looking pretty bad on Wall Street and Main Street. Israel is in crisis. The Philistines are threatening, the judges are corrupt, the priests aren’t much better and nobody is quite sure who will emerge to lead them to glory.

In this moment of crisis, Hannah shines. The book begins by explaining a nasty family feud. Elkanah is married to two women — and you thought your marriage was difficult! And to make matters worse, Elkanah gives Hannah twice the sacrifice he gives his other wife Peninnah. But Peninnah has given Elkanah children and Hannah is barren.

And as you might imagine, Peninnah and Hannah don’t get along too well. Peninnah teases Hannah for not having children, and Hannah cries and refuses to eat the sacrifice. I’ve always wondered, when reading passages like these, if this is what some mean when they say we must “get back to biblical family values.” If we’re honest, we’ll admit this family is pretty messed up. Two wives, one favorite, one child-bearing, one refusing to eat, one taunting her. This makes Octomom and Ballon Boy’s family look normal.

Hannah is in a broken family situation. It’d be hard to even exist under the same roof as Peninnah, but that’s not even the worst of it. Hannah beats herself up because she’s barren. And Elkannah, a typical guy, royally screws up comforting his crying wife. Talk about an awkward response. “Why is your heart sad? [my barren wife] Am I not more to you than ten sons?” Not helpful, Elkannah. He just makes matters worse.

So if we think our family situations are a bit challenging, know that we are not alone. Hannah — who we’ll see changes the Old Testament world for good forever — is stuck in a pretty gosh darn bad situation herself.

So Hannah thinks the only shot she has left is taking things to the Lord. So she hops in her two seater-car — not a minivan, because she doesn’t have kids — and Hannah tools on over to the temple of the Lord. Deeply distressed, she does what many of us would do: she bargains with the Lord.

“O God, pretty God, all-powerful God, bestest God ever, look upon the misery of your servant and remember me. Give me a male child and, tell you what, I promise I will present him as a holy man not just for a short time, but forever. He won’t drink or do drugs, he won’t even cut his hair. He’ll keep himself holy for you forever. Please God. I know you can do it. Look upon me with mercy.”

It’s only natural to want to try to bargain with God. If you just give me a child, I’ll take him to church every Sunday and be a Sunday School teacher and make sure he goes through confirmation. If you just heal my ailing mother, you can take a year off my life. If you cure my arthritis I won’t ever ask you for another thing ever, God, I promise. We know God hears our prayers, so we figure God might not be above a little bargaining. At the very least, bargaining with God shows the depth of our despair. And that’s where Hannah was — not quite a saint’s disposition, but in a real place where we can find ourselves.

So as Hannah continued praying, Eli the priest came in the temple. Eli, a nice guy but not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, saw Hannah’s lips moving but no words coming out, so he figured she had had a little too much at happy hour. “Put it away, Hannah” he says, “Stop making a drunken spectacle of yourself like those crazy cheese heads, or like those gopher hockey fans.”

But Hannah wasn’t drunk, she was pouring out her soul before the Lord. And believe it or not, that type of misunderstanding happens several times in scripture. Maybe we can’t identify with Hannah here, but there are plenty of Christians who get so into praying, or worshiping, that they might be confused for someone three sheets to the wind. Christians who worship with their eyes closed and sing at the top of their lungs and raise their hands to the Lord. Christians who silently meditate in a way that everything but God becomes a blur. We don’t do that much here in these parts, I guess, but it’s in the Bible. Hannah was praying so hard and so strong that Eli thought she was drunk.

But Hannah, good ole Hannah set that priest straight. “I’m not worthless, silly priest, I’ve just reached my breaking point. I’m anxious and vexed and speaking to God with every ounce of energy I have left.”

“My bad,” Eli answered, “in that case, go in peace and may God grant your petition.”

So Hannah gathers herself. Says a heartfelt thanks to old Eli and goes back to her place. She and her husband Elkanah had a romantic evening and, in due time, sure enough, Hannah conceived and bore a son. She named him Samuel which means “I have asked him of the Lord.”

As Ted Smith puts it, “Samuel is the fruit of Hannah’s faithful refusal to be comforted by anything less than a gift from God.” Samuel goes to great things and Hannah, in the next chapter, sings a song of praise to the Lord. Smith says, “Samuel’s birth is clearly a work of God, a fresh kindling of the spark of Hannah’s faithfulness.” But what did Hannah’s faithfulness look like?

It wasn’t pretty, but it was real.

Hannah was stuck in a deeply dysfunctional family but was stubborn enough to keep her own voice. Hannah cries when she can’t take it any more, honestly expressing her sadness and frustration. Hannah prays out her deepest hopes and convictions, even bargaining with God because it’s all she has left. And Hannah shows a patience for the old priest Eli, inviting him into her struggles and enlisting his help and blessing.

Maybe Hannah doesn’t appear in that book of “Men and Women of the Word,” but she certainly holds her own in the book of the faithful. And for us, that can be a source of hope and inspiration since Hannah, in all her faithfulness, is not out-of-this-world-special. She’s an old church lady praying to God. She’s a young mother letting her will be known. She’s an opinionated wife. She’s an awful lot like the faithful folk we see every day.

So look around. Who is Hannah in our midst? Look in the mirror. Do you like Hannah today?

It’s not so simple as to say: “be like Hannah” and be done. But this old story from 1 Samuel might just give us permission to be more like our true selves. And I think Hannah, and God, would welcome that.