<b>Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Jeshanah, and named it Ebenezer; for he said, "Thus far the LORD has helped us." So the Philistines were subdued and did not again enter the territory of Israel; the hand of the LORD was against the Philistines all the days of Samuel. The towns that the Philistines had taken from Israel were restored to Israel, from Ekron to Gath; and Israel recovered their territory from the hand of the Philistines. There was peace also between Israel and the Amorites. (1 Samuel 7:12-14 NRSV)
I grew up on the King James Version and the Fundamentalist tradition. In his pastoral prayers my father prayed weekly for shut-ins and backsliders.In Sunday school I learned the story of the importunate widow. I don't think I have ever used that adjective in my life except in this context, but I learned it at a young age. I knew the many-syllabic attributes of God as well as the fruits of the Spirit and the Armor of God which included such items as bucklers and girdles. I don't remember ever giggling about any of it, it was just a normal part of the vocabulary of my faith. I also knew scores of hymns by heart full of phrases such as "Awake my soul to joyful lays," When morning gilds the skies", and "Teach me some melodious sonnet."
One of my favorites was, "Here I raise mine Ebenezer, Hither by thy help I'm come." Though the Old Testament allusion might be lost on many modern hymnsingers, I can't remember a time when I did not know that it referred to an incident recorded in I Samuel 7in which Samuel set up a stone between Mispah and Jeshanah and named it Ebenezer, which literally means "stone of help." When he raised the stone he said, "Thus far the Lord has helped us." So, it shouldn't seem strange to anyone that I named the little black poodle puppy I received for a welcome home gift after I finished radiation treatments, Ebenezer. Thus far the Lord has helped me. We're calling him "Benny," since Ebenezer is kind of hard to yell out the front door, but his proper name will always remind me, at least, of what was happening when he joined our family.
My husband and I have often talked about erecting stones of remembrance around our house, but we have seldom done it. We love how the Old Testament and the Jewish tradition are full of physical reminders - on the doorposts, on the forehead, at the edge of the Red Sea - of what God has done, so that when children ask, "What does this mean?" the elders have an open door to recount the works of a faithful God. We have not made altars in our yard; the only markers we have left are gravestones for pets like the one that reads, "A good bunny who died of a sunny day." But this event - my cancer diagnosis and treatment - seemed big enough to warrant not one remembrance (the puppy's name), but two.
The day I finished treatment Kevin and I walked down the narrow, old street across from the hospital and stopped for coffee at a small cafe. We had walked this street many times in the last two months, including on the first day we entered Massachusetts General Hospital to hear the recommendations for my treatment. That day we had walked in nervous silence before the appointment, and then baffled confusion afterwards when we were given two very different treatment options from which to choose. I have written about how we agonized over the decision, knowing whichever course we chose came with no guarantee of success. We prayed, asked counsel, and chose the course of radiation, which seemed a feeble weapon against a Stage IV cancer. Now that my treatment was over we revisited the cafe, and while we waited for our lattes, Kevin pulled out a small green ring box and handed it across the table. Inside was a beautiful, understated cigar-band ring. The band itself was brushed silver. Embedded in it were five small diamonds of varying size, scattered unevenly across the center of the ring. Kevin looked up the passage from I Samuel 17 that he had mediatated on the last three months which tells how David came against the giant with five smooth stones, and slew him by the power of God. We knew that 35 proton beam treatments seemed a small weapon to wield against a frightening disease, but we knew that their success depended not upon our doctor, but upon the power of our God. Kevin bought me the ring to remind us both where our true help lies. Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd’s bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine. Meanwhile, the Philistine, with his shield bearer in front of him, kept coming closer to David. He looked David over and saw that he was little more than a boy, glowing with health and handsome, and he despised him. He said to David, “Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. “Come here,” he said, “and I’ll give your flesh to the birds and the wild animals!” David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.” As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground. So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.
I grew up on the King James Version and the Fundamentalist tradition. In his pastoral prayers my father prayed weekly for shut-ins and backsliders.In Sunday school I learned the story of the importunate widow. I don't think I have ever used that adjective in my life except in this context, but I learned it at a young age. I knew the many-syllabic attributes of God as well as the fruits of the Spirit and the Armor of God which included such items as bucklers and girdles. I don't remember ever giggling about any of it, it was just a normal part of the vocabulary of my faith. I also knew scores of hymns by heart full of phrases such as "Awake my soul to joyful lays," When morning gilds the skies", and "Teach me some melodious sonnet."
One of my favorites was, "Here I raise mine Ebenezer, Hither by thy help I'm come." Though the Old Testament allusion might be lost on many modern hymnsingers, I can't remember a time when I did not know that it referred to an incident recorded in I Samuel 7in which Samuel set up a stone between Mispah and Jeshanah and named it Ebenezer, which literally means "stone of help." When he raised the stone he said, "Thus far the Lord has helped us." So, it shouldn't seem strange to anyone that I named the little black poodle puppy I received for a welcome home gift after I finished radiation treatments, Ebenezer. Thus far the Lord has helped me. We're calling him "Benny," since Ebenezer is kind of hard to yell out the front door, but his proper name will always remind me, at least, of what was happening when he joined our family.
My husband and I have often talked about erecting stones of remembrance around our house, but we have seldom done it. We love how the Old Testament and the Jewish tradition are full of physical reminders - on the doorposts, on the forehead, at the edge of the Red Sea - of what God has done, so that when children ask, "What does this mean?" the elders have an open door to recount the works of a faithful God. We have not made altars in our yard; the only markers we have left are gravestones for pets like the one that reads, "A good bunny who died of a sunny day." But this event - my cancer diagnosis and treatment - seemed big enough to warrant not one remembrance (the puppy's name), but two.
The day I finished treatment Kevin and I walked down the narrow, old street across from the hospital and stopped for coffee at a small cafe. We had walked this street many times in the last two months, including on the first day we entered Massachusetts General Hospital to hear the recommendations for my treatment. That day we had walked in nervous silence before the appointment, and then baffled confusion afterwards when we were given two very different treatment options from which to choose. I have written about how we agonized over the decision, knowing whichever course we chose came with no guarantee of success. We prayed, asked counsel, and chose the course of radiation, which seemed a feeble weapon against a Stage IV cancer. Now that my treatment was over we revisited the cafe, and while we waited for our lattes, Kevin pulled out a small green ring box and handed it across the table. Inside was a beautiful, understated cigar-band ring. The band itself was brushed silver. Embedded in it were five small diamonds of varying size, scattered unevenly across the center of the ring. Kevin looked up the passage from I Samuel 17 that he had mediatated on the last three months which tells how David came against the giant with five smooth stones, and slew him by the power of God. We knew that 35 proton beam treatments seemed a small weapon to wield against a frightening disease, but we knew that their success depended not upon our doctor, but upon the power of our God. Kevin bought me the ring to remind us both where our true help lies. Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd’s bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine. Meanwhile, the Philistine, with his shield bearer in front of him, kept coming closer to David. He looked David over and saw that he was little more than a boy, glowing with health and handsome, and he despised him. He said to David, “Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. “Come here,” he said, “and I’ll give your flesh to the birds and the wild animals!” David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.” As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground. So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.
1 comment:
Would love to see a picture of your ring!
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