"The Woman of Substance" (August 10, 2025 Sermon)

Text: Proverbs 31:10-31

Each Sunday this summer, we have explored the story of at least one woman in the Old Testament. Today’s woman is named Wisdom because she comes from the Book of Proverbs, and the concept of “wisdom” is expressed in the feminine in Hebrew. So, from the start, it’s best not to see “The Woman of Substance,” as she is often called, as a literal person, but rather as a metaphor for the fruits of wisdom that we all should embrace, regardless of our gender.

This text is a liturgical landmine of sorts, mainly because of how it has been interpreted over the years in ways that impose unreasonable expectations on women. When viewed this way, we call her Superwoman! She wakes up every morning at 4:30 to meditate, do yoga, pay the bills, and prepare the kids’ lunches for school. She drops off her kids at school just in time to head to her office, where she acts as the mayor of her city. She spends her days negotiating business deals and settling disputes. She takes a 30-minute lunch break every day, during which she multitasks to schedule her social media posts for her Instagram feed, showcasing her perfectly immaculate home with every shot carefully arranged to hide any mess or clutter. In the afternoon, she picks up the kids and takes them home, helping them with their homework while running a Zoom meeting for the non-profit where she’s Chair of the Board. She then cooks dinner and puts the kids to bed before heading to her church to lead a weekly Bible study. She swings by her parents’ house to check that they’ve taken their medicine and paid their bills. Finally, she makes it home in time to pay her own bills and prepare food for the rest of the week. She goes to bed around midnight, only to wake up at 4:30 the next day to do it all over again!

This text is especially troubling when many of us compare ourselves to idealized and manipulated images of life promoted by social media influencers. Proverbs 31 is ultimately a blessing that has often been misused as a burden. Instead of using it to praise the women in our lives for all they do to lead, support, create, and nurture, it has been passive-aggressively wielded to remind women of why they’re not “enough." Perhaps it’s healthier for us to think of “the Woman of Substance” not as a single woman, but as a symbol of the best qualities found in all the women around us! Expecting one person to embody such perfection in every aspect of their life is cruel. However, viewing this poem as a love letter to all the women in our lives seems, in my opinion, a more realistic and gracious approach.

In some Jewish traditions, the intended audience of this passage isn’t for women but for men! A Hasidic practice involves men singing this song to their wives every Sabbath dinner on Friday evenings as a way of praising their spouses and thanking them for everything they do for their families. In this context, Proverbs isn’t a weapon but a way to honor the dedicated work of women. I find this practice much less problematic than the traditional practice in many Christian churches of only reading this text either on Mother’s Day or at women’s funerals.

I wonder if there’s a way we can read this text without adding to the guilt the women in our lives already feel for not living up to patriarchal expectations. I wonder if, instead, I can one day read this to my two daughters to remind them of all they’re capable of. “Hazel Grace and Winnie,” I might say, “you are capable of all these things. You can be a supportive spouse, a successful business owner, an advocate for justice, a pillar of wisdom, and keep the trains runnin’ on time. But those things are not a measure of your self-worth. You are beloved by me and by God whether you do some, all, or none of those things!” What a message that might send to the women and girls among us?

I also wonder what benefits we might gain from promoting these qualities as ideals for everyone to develop, regardless of gender. After all, none of the traits described in Proverbs 31 have to be limited to any one gender. In my marriage, for example, Tricia handles most of the finances and runs her own business, while I do most of the cooking and cleaning. Our two daughters will grow up seeing their father in the kitchen more often than their mother, and that’s okay! Interestingly, although Proverbs 31 has often been used in somewhat patriarchal ways, the text itself challenges our current gender politics. The Woman of Substance in Proverbs 31 is not a submissive wife. Instead, she is portrayed as an active agent practicing self-determination and independence. Just listen to some of the verbs she uses: she seeks, works, brings, rises, provides, considers, girds, makes, perceives, opens, reaches, supplies, laughs, and looks. These are the actions of a well-rounded person who is generous, kind, thoughtful, and perceptive.

As I was prepping for this sermon, my wife Tricia shared with me these words from the late, great Rachel Held Evans, who had a Jewish friend named Ahava who taught her the following of this passage:

“Ahava repeated a finding I’d discovered in my research, that the first line of the Proverbs 31 poem—“a virtuous woman who can find?”—is best translated, “a woman of valor who can find?” (The Hebrew is eshet chayil, “woman of valor”; the male equivalent is gibor chayil, “man of valor.”)  To make this fact even more fun, Ahava explained to me that she and her friends cheer one another on with the blessing, celebrating everything from promotions, to pregnancies, to acts of mercy and justice, to battles with cancer with a hearty “eshet chayil”! (Think of it as something like the Jewish “you go girl.”)”

“This discovery led me to declare “woman of valor!” when a good friend finished seminary, when my mom beat breast cancer, when my sister ran a half marathon. According to Ahava, valor isn’t about what you do, but how you do it. If you are a stay-at-home mom, be a stay-at-home mom of valor. If you are a nurse, be a nurse of valor. If you are a CEO, a pastor, or a barista at Starbucks, if you are rich or poor, single or married—do it all with valor. That’s what makes you a Proverbs 31 Woman, not creating a life worthy of a Pinterest board.”

So, friends, let us consider the wisdom of this passage and be reminded that God doesn’t call us to perfection but to faithfulness. Hear the wisdom of this passage and give yourself a break. Hear the wisdom of the passage and give your spouse a break. Because we all carry so much, and the last thing we need is to beat ourselves up for not being the Proverbs 31 woman 100% of the time. If I’m honest with myself, I consider myself successful if I demonstrate 25% of the qualities mentioned in this passage on any given day.

And I’m also planning to give myself a homework assignment this week. Once every day for the next seven days, I’ll call Tricia and the girls ‘women of valor!’ I’ll practice saying “eshet chayil” to them whenever I feel grateful for them. When Tricia helps a client with their mental health, I’ll say to her, “eshet chayil!’ When Hazel Grace feels anxious about trying something new but pushes through and does it anyway, I’ll say to her, “eshet chayil!’ When Winnie helps pick up her toys and puts her dish in the sink, I’ll say to her, “eshet chayil!’ I will do this not to suggest they need to do these things for me to love them. Instead, I want to remind them of what they already are: women and girls of valor! I also believe that doing this will help me become a better husband and father in the process.

So, if you’re so inclined, take some time this week to declare an important woman or girl in your life to be an “eshet chayil.”  And may we never cease to give thanks to God for the women and girls of valor in our life.

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

"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.