This week, we’ve got another horrible, horrible story (Genesis 22:1-18): more family dysfunction, brokenness, and tragedy following on from last week’s family dysfunction and brokenness.
Last week, we had a story about Abraham: the story of his second wife, Hagar, and their son, Ishmael; of how his first wife, Sarah, became jealous and had Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away, into the wilderness, possibly to die. We heard last week of how God has made promises to Abraham that both his sons would father nations, and that Ishmael would be cared for, and so with that reassurance, Abraham sends away one of his wives together with his first-born son.
And now, after Abraham has done the unthinkable, after he has sent away his firstborn son, in order to appease a jealous wife, he’s probably feeling grief-stricken and lost. Sometime after that, God appears to Abraham and says to him: “Abraham, take your son, your only son, Isaac, the one whom you love and go to the land of Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering.”
Abraham has only just sent Ishmael away; he has just lost his beloved first-born son, and now God turns up and refers to Isaac as your son, your only son, the one whom you love. Talk about rubbing salt into the wound. And now that Abraham has lost one son, God calls on him to sacrifice the other.
There’s an old Jewish folktale that says that God asked for one of his angels to take this message to Abraham, but it was such a terrible thing that they all refused, so God had to deliver the message in person. What God asks of Abraham is abominable; it’s abhorrent and disgusting. The fact that it says that it is just a test still makes God look like a monster.
There are some commentators that say that this story is what is called an aetiological myth: like many myths, it’s told to explain why something is the way it is. In this case they argue it is a story told to explain why their people make animal sacrifices to God, especially when some neighbouring cultures are still doing human sacrifices. That’s one theory. But if that’s all this story is, then it’s just a literary relic with no relevance for us today.
There are some who use this story to talk about far you’re willing to go, how much you’re willing to do to prove your love and devotion to God. Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son; what are you willing to do for God? I think that’s a really dangerous line to take with this story. In an age of religious extremism, using a story of death and violence as an example of devotion and piety is the sort of stuff that leads to religious terrorism. I don’t believe your use of violence or even your willingness for violence should ever be used as a measure of your devotion to God.
And indeed, if we take that as our lesson from this story, then we’ve missed the ending. At the end of the story, Isaac isn’t sacrificed; Abraham doesn’t lose another son; there is hope. Where death and sacrifice seemed the only possible outcome, hope for life shines through. Death is not the end of the story. I think that’s the point of this story. At the end of the story, God offers a chance for life. Death is not the final outcome for this story.
One of the things that speaks to me in this story is the image of Isaac carrying the firewood. Isaac is carrying the wood which is the means for his own death. It reminds me of another son who carries the wood for his own death. In the story of Jesus on the cross, we get another ugly story of sacrifice and death. That story is also a story of death: it’s a gruesome story of a human sacrifice which is just as abhorrent and disgusting as the story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, but that story also ends not with death, but with hope and with life.
When we focus on the sacrifice in this story of Abraham and Isaac, we miss the point. If we only see the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his own son, then we miss the whole point that it’s not necessary, that in the end, death and violence is not the answer, that at the end of the day, our God is a god of life and hope.
Likewise, if we only focus on the cross and forget about the empty tomb, if we only ever talk about the sacrifice of Christ and forget about the new life found in Jesus, then we miss the point. The sacrifice stories are ugly stories, but they get us to the main point of the story: that violence and death is not the answer; that is not the final outcome. The final outcome is life.
About 20 years ago, Mel Gibson brought out the film called The Passion of the Christ. It is two gruelling hours of torture and death and the whole thing deserves its R rating. But because the focus is almost entirely on the cross, what we get isn’t life-giving or hopeful. Near the end of the movie, there is a scene where Mary holds the body of Jesus, and she looks directly at the camera. It’s the only time in the movie when someone looks directly at the camera, and Mary does so with an accusing stare. The message is quite clear: You the audience are responsible for this. You’re to blame. You are guilty. And when it’s only the cross, then that’s all we’re left with. But there’s more to this story: death is not the end of the story. Beyond the ugliness of death is the hope for new life. That’s the point of the story.
We heard in our earlier reading from Romans: Present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life. Brought from death to life. Our God is a god of life. Too often our religion has focussed only on the cross with its message of death and sacrifice. The cross is an important part of the story, but it’s only half the story. And if that’s all we have, then all we’re left with is guilt and remorse.
But the cross is empty and so is the tomb. When we realise that the ugliness of sacrifice leads into new life and new hope, then that new hope and new life can inspire everything we do. As followers of Christ, we are not people of guilt and shame, but we are resurrection people, filled with the life of Christ. Christ came that we might have life and have that in abundance. The cross is empty. The Son is risen. Death is no more and new life is for all.
Hallelujah!
Amen!