Saint Margaret’s Anglican Church Budapest, Hungary

Saint Margaret’s

Anglican Church

Budapest, Hungary

Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Psalm 45: 11-

18; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Wiil you go with this man...?

Many Scripture scholars call Chapter Twenty-Four of the Book of Genesis, from which our first reading

this morning is taken, a major transitional text, an account which in this case takes us from the far

distant and nearly pre-historic times of Abraham, the first great Patriarch, to the narratives to come of

the later Patriarchs, Isaac and Jacob, the fathers of the Hebrew people as they came to be; and our

forebearers in faith as well. The Chapter thus encompasses, in other words, the dim past, the vivid

present, and a future filled with hope and promise. Which in a way is what every generation in every

age is all about.

The narrative, the Chapter, is of course the story of Abraham’s quest to find a wife for his son, Isaac.

And the story, curiously, is told twice in succession, which should in itself alert us to its significance.

We heard only the second telling, the retelling, in our account this morning as the servant of

Abraham, who oddly remains unnamed throughout the account, explains his mission to those he

encounters along the way. The story the servant narrates is charming, romantic even. Sarah, the wife

of Abraham who had given birth to their son Isaac in her old age, has now died; and the wealthy

Abraham, himself “well advanced in years,” as the text goes out of its way to tell us, a man of the past

in other words, is now thinking of the future and of the generations to come.

And so, what to do...? Well, naturally enough, he seeks a wife for his son Isaac after the custom and

tradition of his time. And while the story in many ways is all about Isaac, he curiously has no speaking

parts in it; and seemingly no say in his father’s decision or the servant’s journey. In fact, he makes

only a brief, though significant, appearance toward the end of the narrative. In any case, Abraham

sends his servant, as the servant himself here explains, on a mission to find Isaac a bride, not from

among the pagan Canaanites, Abraham’s neighbours, mind you, but from among his distant and far-

off kin, emphasizing the importance in the ancient world of clan, tribe, custom, and tradition.

Abraham’s servant hits the road. And like any weary traveler at the time, he pauses along his arduous

journey at the nearest spring for refreshment, typically the only source of water in such an arid land,

and itself a sign of life and, notable for the story, fertility. He spies a young woman there at the

spring, who has come to fetch water, presumably for the needs of her family and household for the

day. She offers the servant water and generously waters his camels as well. The servant sees in this

a sign from the Lord that this young woman, Rebekah, as it turns out, is to be Isaac’s wife. He begins

to negotiate the union with her family, specifically with her brother, Laban, and father; but pointedly

and unusually for the culture of the time, with her as well.

“Will you go with this man,” her brother and father ask her no doubt a bit anxiously. And without

hesitation she answers, “I will,” a simple but profound response; an answer without which needless to

say the rest of Salvation History would be completely different, if it would be at all. Rebekah’s “I will”

becomes then an act of faith and of openness to the working out of God’s will in her life; an “I will”

which will be echoed later in Scripture in the story of Ruth and her faithfulness and, in Christian terms,

in Mary’s assent to the words of the Angel at the Annunciation. And it is Rebekah’s affirmation alone,

not a decision made for her by father, family, brother, or anyone else; and a choice made freely,

clearly not under duress, which changes everything. Women may not often figure prominently in

Scripture, but when they do make their appearance, they often do change everything, as does

Rebekah.

She and the servant then depart, seemingly in haste, to return to the land of Abraham and Isaac. And

as they approach, and as if by chance, Isaac, wandering about in the fields, looks up one evening and

sees this surely unexpected cavalcade of camels approaching. Rebekah in her turn also looks up and

sees, for the first time, the man who is to be her husband. And taking the initiative again, not waiting

for others to do it for her, she veils herself as was required by the custom of the time and encounters

Isaac. He brings her to the tent of his departed mother, Sarah. And the story comes full-circle, one

generation to the next. “She became his wife,” the text tells us in simple but profound words, “and

he loved her.” And that is that. If this is not a romance made in heaven, I do not know what is.

At some level, Rebekah’s and Issac’s love story is the story of each of us, for we all have a part in it;

we all have experienced family in one way, shape, or form. Each of us has had father and mother,

brother and sister. We have all loved and been loved. We have all been children; and God willing, we

shall all one day be old like Abraham and Sarah. And before we realise it, our past and present will

meld effortlessly into the future. And we shall be gone; if not forgotten. So, the story related in

Chapter Twenty-Four of the Book of Genesis, this transitional text, is neither complicated nor difficult

to understand. For, we too are part of the story, part of the transition.

And at some point in our lives, each of us is or will be called upon to speak for ourselves, as did

Rebekah. Each of us will be called upon to pronounce our own, “I will” to love and its challenges.

Called upon to say yes to the Others around us and yes to life itself.

Amen.

The Rev. Canon Dr. Frank Hegedűs