8th Sunday after Pentecost           

Hosea 11:1-9

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. The more I called them, the more they went from me; they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and offering incense to idols. Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them. I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love. I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed them. They shall return to the land of Egypt, and Assyria shall be their king, because they have refused to return to me. The sword rages in their cities, it consumes their oracle-priests, and devours because of their schemes. My people are bent on turning away from me. To the Most High they call, who does not raise them up at all.

How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.

Forgotten    

When I read this Hosea text, I can’t help but feel a sense of sad resignation. There’s a feeling of a mother longing for a child who no longer wants to be with her. Written from the viewpoint of God, God is lamenting the fact that the people of Israel have turned away from her. These are the tears of a mother, reaching out to her children, children who have forgotten who birthed them, forgotten who fed them and took care of them. Forgotten who protected them from danger, who taught them how to drive, how to cook, and how to do laundry. Who wept as they left their home for the first time to go to college, and then never called and never wrote. These are the cries of a God who has been forgotten, replaced by inert statues and those who had once been called enemies.

Being forgotten is a hard thing to live with, a hard thing to accept, all the more difficult when you are forgotten by someone who was particularly close to you. A friend, a sibling, a spouse. A child. I preached once about my best friend who seemed to have abandoned me, though I have come to learn that there were some extenuating circumstances. It’s hard to accept that you have been pushed to the side. Harder still to think that it might be because of something that you did, or that there might be something wrong with you. No one likes rejection. And no amount of telling yourself that it’s the other person, not you, will ever completely get rid of that tiny seed of doubt telling you that it really was you all along, and that they had a good reason to leave you behind. If we’re being honest with ourselves, we all have these kinds of doubts; some of them bigger than others. But, all of them insidious, and constantly working to undermine our confidence and our trust, our openness and our curiosity.

Of course, we know that this text wasn’t actually written by God. According to tradition, these are the words of the prophet Hosea, though we don’t know if he was the one who did the writing, or if someone else wrote the words down for him. It’s one of the oldest books in the Bible, and its age, coupled with the strange events that it describes, makes us wonder whether Hosea and Gomer are historical figures, or if this story is more mythological, like the book of Job, or the creation stories in Genesis. Regardless, the book of Hosea is a powerful metaphor and example of God’s unending and unconditional love.

As I said, Hosea’s story is a strange one. God instructed him to marry Gomer, a woman who would be unfaithful to him. Their marriage served to represent Israel’s unfaithfulness to God. As Gomer spends time with men who are not her husband, Israel spends time with gods who are not their God, offing sacrifice to Baal, the Canaanite god of storms, and incense to Asherah, the Canaanite goddess of fertility.

God commands Hosea and Gomer’s to name their first son Jezreel, which refers to a valley where a lot of Israeli blood was shed by the kings of the Northern Kingdom. This name was a prophecy, stating that the Northern Kingdom would pay for that bloodshed.

God then commands them to name their daughter Lo-ruhamah, which means Unloved, or Pity. This is another prophecy, saying that God will no longer pity the Northern Kingdom.

Then, they have another son, and it is unclear who the father of this child is. God commands them to name this son Lo-ammi, which means “not my people,” for the people of the Northern Kingdom would no longer be known as God’s people.

While condemning a nation through children’s names, not to mention the condemnations themselves, might seem a bit harsh, we have to remember that God is not doing the condemning here. God is merely describing what is happening, Hosea and Gomer’s family is just a reflection of what is happening in Israel.

According to the Torah, the punishment for adultery is death, and anyone reading or listening to this text in ancient Israel would have known that. But, in Hosea and Gomer’s story, Gomer is not put to death, but reconciled with her husband, which is technically a breaking of the law. The hope here is that although Israel is being unfaithful to God, that there will someday be a reconciliation.

When we look at the Hosea reading for today, God is reaching out. God is taking care of the people, and reminiscing about a time when the people’s relationship to God was healthier, reciprocal, mutual and communal. It is the people who had turned away, not God.

This text is a perfect example of God’s love for us. No matter what we do or say, even if we continually ignore God, God will always, always love us. God does not give up. God will leave the light on for you even if it’s been fifteen years, and you’ve never come home. God will keep setting a place at the table for you, even if you never want to sit down. God is the grandmother that never stops praying, and the father refusing to believe that their child is lost for good. That’s what unconditional love is. It is a love filled with expectation and hope, acceptance and joy. It is patient and understanding.

And, this theme continually shows up throughout the Bible, in some of the most well-loved and familiar stories. We see the God who reaches out for us in the father of the prodigal son, in the shepherd looking for the lost sheep, and the woman searching for the lost coin. God is always reaching out for us, even when we don’t see it, even when we’re not looking for God’s hand.

Life will take us to many places, and will throw all kinds of problems our way. We will get discouraged, we might lose hope, and we might even lose our faith. But, God never gives up on us. God never loses faith in us. And, whenever we are ready to reach out for God, we will find that God’s hand has been there all along. Amen.

~ Rev. Charles Wei