A Wednesday Reflection

Note: it has been a long time since I've added a sermon here; far too often I don't think well enough of them; even more often I simple don't have time to get the text into a condition good enough for reading. Some people spoke well of this little piece, and others mentioned that they had not themselves see the point before, so I will send it out into the world.

A Reflection at Choral Evensong,
Trinity College Chapel, Toronto
Wednesday, 16 February 2011

The very stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner. Mark 12.10.

The Daily Office Lectionary is arranged in such a way that someone who comes to evensong each Wednesday might think the readings skip merrily through the History of Israel and follow the Gospels on quite another plan, but someone who comes occasionally or just once may find it all fortuitous. Sometimes the effect is surreal, as when the late Mordecai Richler attended Evensong some years back: the first reading was from Esther and seemed to have the words ‘Mordecai the Jew’ in every other verse. The fact is that the Offices were not really meant for occasional use, and needs to be followed regularly to be understood, and while the lectionary recognizes that some will attend only on Sundays no one seems to have contemplated the likelihood of a regular Wednesday community. I say all this by way of apology for most of the readings and making one small point.
This evening we heard an episode from the life of Jacob; a lot’s happened since last week, when he stole Esau’s blessing, but I will assume that you can read the whole story yourselves. Preachers usually latch onto the fact that Jacob was a bit of a cad, making some important points about the surprising people God uses in his work of salvation. But Jacob’s complaint to Laban, about his long service reminded me of something which struck me recently about this story, which also shows God working through the unexpected person to an even more important end.
As you may recall, Jacob fled to avoid Esau, who was ticked off over the blessing, and went to his uncle Laban. There he fell in love with Laban’s younger daughter, Rachel, and agreed to work seven years to marry her. At the end Laban tricked Jacob and substituted the older daughter Leah. Genesis tells us that ‘Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful and lovely … Jacob loved Rachel more than Leah’, and after a further seven years married her as well.
So we are clear: the beautiful sister, loved by her husband and worth fourteen years work, was Rachel; Leah was apparently despised. Rachel is the centre of the story, which for the next couple of chapters tells of the children born to them, and a sort of unseemly competition between them. And in the end Rachel is still the important one, because she is the mother of Joseph, the great hero and saviour of the people, and of the beloved youngest son Benjamin. But that’s not the whole story. Though Jacob hated Leah, God did not; she had many children and was the mother of six of Jacob’s twelve sons, Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, and Zebulun. But even though this shows divine favour, in the story, Rachel is still ahead as favourite wife and mother of the best-loved sons. But what recently struck me about this story is one little fact in it which governs the rest of salvation history: Leah was the mother of Judah.
From the tribe of Judah came David the king (while Saul, of the tribe of beloved Benjamin, was rejected). And as the Gospels tell us, from the tribe of Judah and the house of David (by human reckoning) came our Lord Jesus Christ. So the main story of salvation hangs on Leah, the unexpected, the unloved. So the words of the Gospel are true of Leah as they are and because they are about Jesus, her descendant: The very stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner. All through Scripture God chooses the one he wants, whether or not we would choose likewise; this is only one example. God’s choice is mysterious, and it knocks any chance anyone has of saying, if I am chosen it must show how good I am. In fact, the chosen instruments usually don’t know they’re chosen any more than Leah did.