Genesis
22:1-14
June
29, 2014
In her book My Sister's Keeper, author Jodi Picoult tells the story
of Anna, a 13-year-old girl, who was born to save her older sister. Literally.
Her older sister, Kate, was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia when
she was two. Along with chemotherapy,
she will need a bone marrow transplant.
Her six-year-old brother, Jesse, is not a good match. So the parents, Sara and Brian, make a
decision. They see a geneticist who
configures a combination of their genes into a perfect match for Kate. That match is Anna.
The minute Anna was born, her cord
blood was harvested for Kate. Kate goes
into remission, and everything should have been fine from that point on. Except it wasn't. Kate relapses. More is needed from Anna. Every time Kate ends up in the hospital, so
does Anna. But Anna isn't sick. Now Kate's kidneys are failing, and she is
undergoing dialysis. She needs a kidney
transplant, and the perfect donor shares a room with her: Anna.
But Anna is tired of being treated as Kate's spare parts. So she sees a lawyer and sues her parents,
primarily Sara, for medical emancipation.
She wants the right to determine what will happen with her own body.
The driving force for saving Kate is
her mother Sara. Her fierce
determination to save Kate overshadows everything else. I have not had a chronically sick child, but
I can imagine that it would be consuming to say the least. So I can sympathize with Sara to a certain
extent. But in her constant push to make
Kate well, she sacrifices her two other children. Jesse is a troubled young man who is playing
with fire to get his parents' attention.
Sara has essentially given up on him.
And Anna, born to save her sister, is denied her own childhood. She starts to excel at a sport and wants to
attend a summer camp, but Sara says no because what if something goes wrong
with Kate. Sara will spare nothing to
save her child, something that any parent, any person, can understand. But that nothing that Sara won't spare is
Anna. Sara seems willing to sacrifice
Anna to save Kate.
A story about sacrificing a child is
the story before us this morning. While
I might begrudgingly give Sara in My Sister's Keeper a modicum of sympathy for the choices she makes, I have
none to offer for the story that is before us today. The story of Abraham preparing to sacrifice
his son Isaac is one of the most appalling stories in scripture. That's saying
a lot because there are a number of appalling stories in scripture. In my opinion, anyone who tries to portray
our Bible as nothing but sweetness and light just hasn't read it. The story of Abraham and Isaac is, to
paraphrase theologian Phyllis Tribble, a text of terror. In his novel, Son of Laughter, a
retelling of the Jacob story, Presbyterian minister and author, Frederick
Buechner referred to this story. Buechner imagined that even as an old man
Isaac was still traumatized by this terrible event in his life. Given what we now know about the effects of
abuse and post-traumatic stress, it isn't hard to believe that this may have
been true for Isaac. What kind of
nightmares would you have after your father almost sacrifices you?
As I prepared to try and preach this
passage, I couldn't find any commentator who could dismiss or write off the
horror of this story. For it is indeed
horrible. In our version, the story
begins with the words "After these things, God tested Abraham." What are these "things"? Abraham has been promised by God that his
descendants will be more than the stars in the sky and the dust on the
ground. The name Abraham means
"father of many" or "father of a multitude." But Sarah, in her jealousy over Abraham's son
Ishmael with her handmaid, Hagar, forces Abraham to send them away. Abraham does what she asks, and sends his son
and his mother into the desert with paltry supplies and little chance of
survival. God steps into that situation
and saves them both, but now God is putting Abraham to the test, a terrible
test. God tells Abraham to take his son, his only son, Isaac and bring him to the
land of Moriah and sacrifice him there.
Abraham does what God commands.
He takes Isaac, who carries the wood for his own sacrifice, and travels
to Moriah to the mountain that comes be to known as the Temple Mount. As they are making their way, Isaac asks his
father about the sacrifice. We have the
wood, the fire, the knife, but where is the sacrifice for the altar? Abraham answers, “God himself will provide
the lamb for the burn offering, my son.”
When they reach the place Abraham builds the altar, lays the wood on it,
and binds up Isaac. He takes the knife
and prepares to kill his son. At that
moment the angel of the Lord calls out to him.
Just as Abraham answered God and Isaac with the words, “Here I am,” he
answers the angel the same way. “Here I
am.” The angel of the Lord tells Abraham
to stop. He is not to lay a hand on the
boy. God now knows that Abraham fears
God. God now knows that Abraham has
placed his complete faith in God. At
that moment, a ram appears in a thicket nearby.
Abraham unbinds Isaac and sacrifices the ram instead. Abraham names the place “The Lord will
provide.”
Abraham passes his test. Isaac is spared. God is worshipped. We should see this as a happy ending, yet it’s
hard to be happy when we read a story of God, our God, demanding this kind of
test of Abraham; even more demanding it of Isaac. No amount of happiness at the end can
transform this into a happy story. It is
a terrible story of a terrible test.
One commentator paraphrased a
Yiddish folktale concerning this passage.
Why is it that God speaks directly to Abraham about sacrificing Isaac,
but it is the angel of God who stops Abraham from doing what God
commanded? Because it is believed that
the angel of God supposedly looked at God and said, “If you are going to demand
such a thing, than you will have to do it yourself.”
Even the angel of God was horrified.
It is a terrible story about a
terrible test, yet this story has had a profound impact on both Judaism and
Christianity. In Judaism it is known as
the Akedah or the binding of Isaac. In
that tradition Abraham’s faith and obedience are emphasized. In our tradition, it is a foreshadowing of
the sacrifice Jesus makes. God tests
Abraham by asking him to willingly sacrifice his own son, but in the end it is
God who sacrifices his son. I know that both aspects of this story are
important to our faith today. Abraham
was obedient and faithful. He was
willing to do what God asked, even though it seemed contrary to what God had
promised. He was meant to be the father
of a multitude, but he had sent his first son away, and now he was being asked
to sacrifice his remaining son. How
would he become the parent of this supposed multitude if he must lose his
sons? But Abraham trusted that God would
provide, and so God did.
The story of Jesus’ atonement for
our sins is foundational to our faith.
Jesus willingly carried his own cross and submitted to a cruel and
inhumane execution on our behalf. God
sacrificed his son so that the world might be saved. God provided the means for our salvation, our
redemption, at the cost of the Son; indeed at the cost of God’s self.
Another way of viewing this event in
Genesis is by understanding that child sacrifice was an innate part of the
culture surrounding Abraham. We read in
many other passages in the Old Testament and we hear it from the prophets that
God expressly forbids child sacrifice. One
reason that this test of Abraham may have been preserved is to show the
cultural switch from an acceptance of child sacrifice to the forbidding of it.
But we read
this story in an age when child abuse is rampant, when extremists hear and
interpret stories like this literally.
The abuse and killing of children is a reality. So I think we have to be very careful about
trying to justify this story of Abraham and Isaac theologically or
culturally.
This is a terrible story about a
terrible test. I can find no way to
soften it. I know that I am not alone in
this. I read a story of a student preacher
who attempted to preach this passage.
Halfway through her sermon, she gave up and began to weep. Her sorrow gave the congregation permission
to do the same. Together they wept at
the tragedy of this story, and for the tragedies that seem to engulf our world,
our societies, and our lives. One
observer of this moment said that by doing this the preacher actually preached
good news.
I won’t ask that of us today. But I do see one point in this tale that
gives me some hope. Abraham named that
place, “The Lord will provide.” Another
translation of that is “The Lord will be seen.”
I know that in this circumstance God is the initiator of this almost
tragedy, but remembering that God is seen, is present in the tragedies that we
cause gives me some measure of comfort.
God is present when our children are sacrificed to violence that we not
only allow to happen but perpetuate with our actions and our inaction. God is present in our mourning, our
lamenting. God can be seen when all we
can do is weep. God is present when we
are faced with awful choices. God is
seen and present in our midst at the most traumatic moments of our lives. God is present, not just as a casual
observer, but as One who comforts us, and loves us. There is no easy or satisfactory way to read
or understand this story of God and Abraham and Isaac. But even as we struggle with this terrible
test, may we also be faithful, trusting that God is in our midst. May we trust, like Abraham did, that God will
provide. Let all of God’s children say “Amen.”
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