"The Medium of Endor" (August 3, 2025 Sermon)

Text: 1 Samuel 28:3-25

Have you ever experienced a time in your life when you felt like nothing you do is right? You put in effort. You try to make wise decisions. You do your best to do the right thing, but with no success. No matter how hard you try, everything seems to go wrong. You feel helpless. You feel despondent. You feel despair. You might even feel that God has forsaken you and that the whole world has turned against you. Mister Rogers expressed this feeling in his famous song “What do you do with the mad that you feel?”

What do you do with the mad that you feel?
When you feel so mad you could bite?
When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong..
and nothing you do seems very right?

King Saul finds himself at his lowest point. Everything he attempts fails, while everyone praises David for his victory over Goliath. As David’s star is rising, Saul’s is falling. As Saul slips further into madness and paranoia, he loses confidence as he prepares for an upcoming battle with the Philistines. He anxiously seeks wisdom to break his losing streak. Saul is struggling with a familiar feeling to many of us: missing someone who once offered valuable advice. That person was Samuel. Although their relationship was imperfect, Saul views Samuel as a divine messenger—a source of guidance for his reign and for the Israelites he led. Now that Samuel has died, Saul needs his counsel more than ever.

And so, Saul decides to seek the advice of a woman known for her ability to lift the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead. Some people would call these women witches—a term used throughout history to unfairly marginalize women we do not understand or choose not to understand. For many of us, Arthur Miller’s play The Crucible was required reading in high school literature classes. It serves as a reminder of the damage caused when communities fall into mass hysteria, paranoia, and the abuse of power, irrationally targeting scapegoats. King Saul, however, chooses to seek out this woman, this ghost-master, as the Hebrew text literally reads, in order to summon Samuel from the grave to ask for his advice for the upcoming battle.

There was only one problem: King Saul had banned necromancy from the land because he feared such power would lead the Israelites to idolatry. But Saul doesn’t care. He knows he’s a hypocrite because he wears a disguise to hide his identity. He reaches out for the wisdom and power of a woman whose kind he has forbidden. For Saul is willing to break the very law he himself enacted if it gives him a solution to his political problems.

And so, he finds the woman, whose name is omitted in the text. To be clear, women like her were not possessed by ghosts; rather, they had dominion over them. No mention of demons or Satan appears anywhere in the text. There is nothing, at least on the surface, that is “evil” or “demonic” about her work. The text simply states that she had the ability to lift the veil between the realm of the living and the dead.

The woman is rightly suspicious when this hooded stranger enters her home and asks for her services; she knows they’ve been outlawed, and this could very well be a trap. But Saul, still hidden by his disguise, convinces her to proceed anyway, and she raises Samuel from his heavenly slumber. Samuel is grumpy (you’d be too if you were suddenly snatched from whatever bliss you were enjoying in the afterlife!). Samuel doesn’t rebuke the woman; instead, he rebukes Saul and chastises him for setting up this whole affair.  He does, however, share with Saul God’s verdict, and it isn’t good.  Saul and his sons will die in battle the very next day.  God has turned God’s face from Saul and his house, and there’s no going back.  It’s time for David to ascend to the throne, and Saul isn't going to be given the benefit of a restful retirement.

At this point in the story, two things happen simultaneously. First, the woman clearly realizes that she has been deceived; the very politician who banned her means of earning a living is now in her house, and she has done something that could easily get her stoned in the streets. Second, at that moment, Saul collapses on the floor in despair, just as any of us would likely do if we learned that God had forsaken us and that the next day’s sunrise would be our last.

I’m compelled by what the woman didn’t do in this moment.  She doesn’t express anger or fear, both of which would be understandable in her situation.  Anger that she had been tricked into doing something that was verboten and fear that that deception might cost her her life.  She also doesn’t decide to take advantage of Saul in his moment of vulnerability.  She could have run off to the tabloids and sold the story for a handsome sum of money.  She could have otherwise tried to manipulate the situation to her advantage with the knowledge that Saul was a condemned man who wouldn’t be a threat to her in a short 24 hours.

But she does none of this. Instead, the text makes it clear: she shows Saul hospitality. Before her was a grieving man, coming to terms with the fact that he and his sons would die the next day. She took pity on him and prepared his last supper. She offered her bed for him to rest. She killed the fatted calf. She baked bread for him. And she provided this gracious meal to Saul and his men on what would be their last day in the land of the living. The next day, Samuel’s prophecy comes true. Saul’s sons die in the battle against the Philistines, and he himself is wounded and chooses to die by his own sword rather than be taken captive. As for the woman who gave him his last meal, we never hear from her again.

I wonder if we might look at this woman as someone more than “just a witch” (as she has long been portrayed in most Biblical commentaries.  Just as my sermon on Rahab a few weeks ago wasn’t an endorsement of prostitution, neither is this sermon an endorsement of necromancy, witchcraft, or wizardry.  But I wonder what we might learn from this woman who showed hospitality to the very person who outlawed her very existence.

I had a Zoom meeting a few days ago with a colleague who is a Disciples of Christ minister in a Los Angeles suburb. Her name is Pastor Tanya Lopez, and about half of her congregation are immigrants. About a month and a half ago, she was working in her church office when her husband, who also works at the church, alerted her that a man was being taken into custody in their church parking lot. She rushed outside the building to find a group of unmarked vehicles and unidentified men in street clothes with generic vests that said “police.” Later that day, she called the LAPD, and they confirmed that the men were not Los Angeles police officers. They had no badge numbers and refused to identify themselves or their agency. Each was masked, so she couldn’t see their faces. They didn’t show a warrant or respect that this was private church property, such as the very property you and I occupy right now.

The man who was being abducted looked visibly upset, and she said to him in Spanish, “What is your name? Tell me your date of birth. Who can I call? Who do you need me to call?” One of the masked men pointed his weapon at Pastor Lopez, and she simply said, “I have the right to be here. I do not have to listen to you. This is the property of the church - Downey Memorial Christian Church - and we are not okay with you being on our property.” One of the men just looked at her and cavalierly said, “The whole country is our property.” Pastor Lopez then said to the man she assumed was an immigrant, as the masked men put him in a vehicle, “Don’t sign anything. Don’t tell them anything. Don’t sign anything.” And then they disappeared with the terrified man.

After Pastor Lopez recalled her harrowing experience with me, I thanked her for advocating for this man. She and I will never know the fate of the man who was disappeared that day. But I do know this: when this man was in such a vulnerable position with no one else around to advocate for him and his rights, the church showed up. For Jesus says, as we have done to the least of these, so too have we done unto him. Pastor Lopez advocated for this man who, like many others, has been treated so cruelly and callously because they are immigrants.

I couldn’t get this story out of my head as I wrote the words of this sermon. Because in the unnamed woman in today’s scripture who, though criminalized and considered persona non grata, showed kindness to the very man who marginalized her, I see the man whose name we’ll never know who was abducted at a place that’s supposed to be a sanctuary for everyone. You see, the Medium at Endor, by showing hospitality to King Saul, joins a long list of people in the Bible who exemplify God’s grace from the margins. The Good Samaritan, who showed mercy unlike the priest and the Levite. The Woman at the Well in John’s Gospel, who was the first person Jesus chose to reveal himself to, and who went and told all she knew of his wonders. Rahab, the woman who gave refuge to the Israelite spies in the city of Jericho and saved her family. Zacchaeus, the despised tax collector who repented of his extortion practices and gave back the money he took multiple times over.

You see, when we marginalize another human being—whether that person is a “witch,” a tax collector, a woman at a well, a prostitute, a Samaritan, or an immigrant—we diminish the image of God. And that’s not the work we’re called to do! You and I are stewards of the image of God in our neighbor. You and I are midwives of the image of God in our neighbor. We must honor and protect the image of God in everyone we meet, regardless of their cultural status or stigma. In today’s story, the woman honored the image of God in her enemy, and that makes her a heroine in my eyes. So may we, like her, honor the image of God in all who cross our path.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, made in God’s image, say: Amen.

"Abigail" (July 27, 2025 Sermon)

1 Samuel 25

Now Samuel died, and all Israel assembled and mourned for him. They buried him at his home in Ramah.

Then David got up and went down to the wilderness of Paran.

There was a man in Maon whose property was in Carmel. The man was very rich; he had three thousand sheep and a thousand goats. He was shearing his sheep in Carmel. Now the name of the man was Nabal, and the name of his wife was Abigail. The woman was clever and beautiful, but the man was surly and mean; he was a Calebite. David heard in the wilderness that Nabal was shearing his sheep. So David sent ten young men, and David said to the young men, “Go up to Carmel, and go to Nabal, and greet him in my name. Thus you shall salute him, ‘Peace be to you, and peace be to your house, and peace be to all that you have. I hear that you have shearers; now your shepherds have been with us, and we did them no harm, and they missed nothing all the time they were in Carmel. Ask your young men, and they will tell you. Therefore let my young men find favor in your sight, for we have come on a feast day. Please give whatever you have at hand to your servants and to your son David.’ ”

When David’s young men came, they said all this to Nabal in the name of David, and then they waited. But Nabal answered David’s servants, “Who is David? Who is the son of Jesse? There are many servants today who are breaking away from their masters. Shall I take my bread and my water and the meat that I have butchered for my shearers and give it to men who come from I do not know where?” So David’s young men turned away and came back and told him all this. David said to his men, “Every man strap on his sword!” And every one of them strapped on his sword; David also strapped on his sword, and about four hundred men went up after David, while two hundred remained with the baggage.

But one of the young men told Abigail, Nabal’s wife, “David sent messengers out of the wilderness to salute our master, and he shouted insults at them. Yet the men were very good to us, and we suffered no harm, and we never missed anything when we were in the fields as long as we were with them; they were a wall to us both by night and by day, all the while we were with them keeping the sheep. Now, therefore, know this and consider what you should do, for evil has been decided against our master and against all his house; he is so ill-natured that no one can speak to him.”

Then Abigail hurried and took two hundred loaves, two skins of wine, five sheep ready dressed, five measures of parched grain, one hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs. She loaded them on donkeys and said to her young men, “Go on ahead of me; I am coming after you.” But she did not tell her husband Nabal. As she rode on the donkey and came down under cover of the mountain, David and his men came down toward her, and she met them. Now David had said, “Surely it was in vain that I protected all that this fellow has in the wilderness, so that nothing was missed of all that belonged to him, but he has returned me evil for good. God do so to David and more also if by morning I leave so much as one male of all who belong to him.”

When Abigail saw David, she hurried and dismounted from the donkey and fell before David on her face, bowing to the ground. She fell at his feet and said, “Upon me alone, my lord, be the guilt; please let your servant speak in your ears and hear the words of your servant. My lord, do not take seriously this ill-natured fellow, Nabal, for as his name is, so is he; Nabal is his name, and folly is with him, but I, your servant, did not see the young men of my lord, whom you sent.

“Now then, my lord, as the Lord lives and as you yourself live, since the Lord has restrained you from bloodguilt and from taking vengeance with your own hand, now let your enemies and those who seek to do evil to my lord be like Nabal. And now let this present that your servant has brought to my lord be given to the young men who follow my lord. Please forgive the trespass of your servant, for the Lord will certainly make my lord a sure house, because my lord is fighting the battles of the Lord, and evil shall not be found in you so long as you live. If anyone should rise up to pursue you and to seek your life, the life of my lord shall be bound in the bundle of the living under the care of the Lord your God, but the lives of your enemies he shall sling out as from the hollow of a sling. When the Lord has done to my lord according to all the good that he has spoken concerning you and has appointed you prince over Israel, my lord shall have no cause of grief or pangs of conscience for having shed blood without cause or for having saved himself. And when the Lord has dealt well with my lord, then remember your servant.”

David said to Abigail, “Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who sent you to meet me today! Blessed be your good sense, and blessed be you, who kept me today from bloodguilt and from avenging myself by my own hand! For as surely as the Lord the God of Israel lives, who has restrained me from hurting you, unless you had hurried and come to meet me, truly by morning there would not have been left to Nabal so much as one male.” Then David received from her hand what she had brought him; he said to her, “Go up to your house in peace; see, I have heeded your voice, and I have granted your petition.”

There’s a memorable scene in the 2004 satirical film Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy where all the different news teams in San Diego gather for an old-fashioned street gang fight (like West Side Story or Gangs of New York). The evening news team begins to taunt the morning news team, pulling out various homemade weapons. Then Channel 2 news arrives to join the chaos. Eventually, the NPR news crew takes a break from their annual pledge drive to join the fight, shouting: “No commercials; no mercy!” Finally, the Spanish-language news crew shows up, and soon, all five “gangs” prepare for battle. After all parties agree to the rules of the field, such as no touching of the hair or face, the battle begins in all its glorious absurdity. Fists, brass knuckles, and knives appear, but then more bizarre weapons emerge out of nowhere, such as a flamethrower, a trident, and Steve Carell’s character running around with a grenade in his hands.  After the battle concludes, the next scene immediately cuts to Ron Burgundy and his fellow news team in his office nursing their wounds while Ron sips a Miller High Life and debriefs the day’s events.  “Boy,” he says, “that escalated quickly!  I mean, that really got out of hand fast!”

Whenever I read this story from the 25th chapter of 1 Samuel, I can’t help but hear Ron Burgundy’s line in my head. It’s because today’s story involves men quarreling over trivial matters and quickly escalating: what started as a minor insult risked turning into a civil war that could have claimed hundreds of lives. Luckily, that was prevented thanks to a woman named Abigail.

She had a fool of a husband. Literally. His name was “Nabal,” which means “foolish” in Hebrew. Despite his foolish name and demeanor, Nabal was a wealthy man. The text begins by stating that he was wealthy and had thousands of livestock to show for it. However, his privilege and wealth did not protect him from the wrath of David, a man who was gaining prominence at the time.

By this point in 1 Samuel, Saul, the first king of Israel, is gradually descending into madness and downfall. Originally anointed by the prophet Samuel despite God’s warnings that kings could cause more harm than good, Saul's reign was largely successful until he made critical errors during the battle against the Amalekites. These mistakes led to his disfavor with Samuel and God. Consequently, Samuel discovers a young shepherd named David, anoints him, and prepares him to eventually succeed Saul as king. David's rise is rapid, while Saul’s decline accelerates. After defeating Goliath, David begins to feel invincible and, admittedly, a bit self-important. Although he is not yet king in chapter 25, David has gained a formidable reputation. He and his men travel the countryside, defending Israelites like Nabal from marauders known for stealing sheep. Due to their service, David believes he is entitled to receive food and supplies in return for his protection.

Nabal, however, disagreed. When David’s men asked for food, he basically gave them the middle finger and told them to buzz off. When the men inform David of Nabal’s rejection, David’s reaction is disproportionate—he orders, “Everybody, get your swords,” and declares, “we’re going to war!” (Imagine Ron Burgundy saying, “Boy, that escalated quickly!”). David then mobilizes four hundred armed men and heads toward Nabal’s estate.

Fortunately for Nabal, his wife Abigail intervenes. A servant, likely aware of Nabal’s rudeness, reports the chaos to her before the bloodshed begins. She decides to act on her own and handles the situation diplomatically. She collects two hundred loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five sheep, five measures of grain, one hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs (plus a partridge in a pear tree!) and heads to meet David and his men. Friends, this was no task for the faint of heart!  She must have known that David was hot-headed and hell-bent on vengeance, and it takes considerable courage, especially for a woman in those days, to stand up to any man, let alone a future king.

Abigail’s flattery and diplomacy pay off.  She says to David, “My husband is an idiot.  Please accept these gifts as a token of our gratitude for your protection.”  But then, if we read the text closely, we note that Abigail cleverly pivots to appeal to David’s political ambitions.  “You know,” Abigail says, “petty vengeance isn’t a good look for a man who’s trying to win the love of the people he hopes to one day govern.  If you forgive my husband’s mistake, that’ll be a story that your PR people will love!”  And, to David’s credit, he listens to her and takes her advice.  He could have dug in his heels.  He could have taken the gifts and continued to battle.  But he listens to reason and commends Abigail for her “good sense.”  The story ends, and everyone lives happily ever after, except for Nabal, who gets his comeuppance a few days later when he abruptly dies of a heart attack!  After Nabal’s timely demise, Abigail marries David and becomes one of the eight women we know of who were among his wives.

On a surface level, this story is a somewhat humorous tale about two men who get into a petty, public feud and a sensible woman who steps in to de-escalate the situation. It challenges the common sexist argument that women aren’t qualified to lead because they are "too emotional.” In fact, this story suggests otherwise. If anything, it’s the men involved who allow their emotions to undermine their judgment.  It is this preacher’s opinion that there’s a little bit of subversive humor at play in this story that reads almost like a reality TV show.  After all, who doesn’t enjoy watching a good train wreck?

But this story also prompts a deeper discussion about the collateral damage caused by such petty disputes. It is important to remember that Abigail literally saved human lives. This squabble between Nabal and David could have led to a great deal of bloodshed. However, Abigail successfully negotiates a peaceful solution. Who are the “Abigails” among us who broker peace in a culture that encourages and rewards petty conflict?

You know, we might be tempted to think that money is the most powerful currency in our culture. But it’s not. The most powerful currency in our modern society is attention. If you can capture attention, then money (and power) will follow. You and I surrender the currency of our attention in various ways: every time we follow and subscribe, every cable news show we watch, or TikTok video we promote, or post we share on Facebook.  I’m convinced that one of the reasons our political system is broken is that we treat it more like the soap opera of the Nabal-David dispute, rather than approaching politics with the wisdom and reason of Abigail, a person who successfully brokered peace, saved lives, and sought the well-being of everyone.

What would happen if we chose to give our attention to the peacemakers among us?  The bridge builders?  The diplomats?  The artists and poets who tease our imaginations towards justice and love, equity and compassion?

And so, I hope you, like me, have a good chuckle at this story of a savvy woman who prevented a civil war between two men with fragile egos.  But I also hope that we remember that God calls us to be peacemakers in a world where such work is often openly mocked and discouraged.  It is not easy work.  As I mentioned, it took no small amount of courage for Abigail to intervene in such a bold manner.  It is hard work.  But as author Glennon Doyle so often says, “We can do hard things.”  And we know we can do hard things because Jesus calls peacemakers like Abigail “blessed.”

In a world full of noise and conflict, where attention often shifts toward discord instead of harmony, we are reminded that true strength lies not in escalating disputes, but in the wisdom to pursue understanding and reconciliation. Abigail demonstrates that even when confronted with foolishness and aggression, a calm and compassionate voice can alter the course of events, saving lives and fostering unity. As we navigate our own lives, let us strive to be like Abigail in our neighborhood—those who dare to stand up, speak out, and advocate for peace. May we choose to elevate the voices of peacemakers, bridge-builders, and visionaries, ensuring our actions reflect the love and grace Jesus calls us to embody. Together, let us commit to the challenging but vital work of becoming agents of peace in a world that desperately needs it.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say: Amen.