Genesis 22:1-14

Genesis 22:1-14 (NRSV)

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” ² He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” ³ So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. ⁴ On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. ⁵ Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” ⁶ Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. ⁷ Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” ⁸ Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

⁹ When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. ¹⁰ Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. ¹¹ But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” ¹² He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” ¹³ And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. ¹⁴ So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.”

 

                        Genesis 22:1-14 is the story of the near-sacrifice by Abraham of his son Isaac. Biblical scholars will say that the full story, which extends to verse 19, is from E, but may have pieces of J at verse 11, 14, 15, and 18. I will not be able to remove the troublesome aspects of this story, of course. I do not want to do so. If we try to get inside the mind of Abraham, we will not learn the theological lesson of this text. It raises questions regarding the call of God, obedience to God, and the providence of God. 

If we look at the canonical context, Jon Levenson has adduced several parallels between the account of the near-death of Abraham's son by Sarah in this chapter, and the near-death of his son by Hagar, in chapter 21. Both stories are from the E document. (1) Abraham rises "early in the morning" (21:14; 22:3). (2) Abraham is "placing" the bread and skin of water on Hagar's shoulder and the wood on his son Isaac (21:14; 22:6). (3) The texts note the miraculous opening of the eyes of both parents to the agents of the deliverance of their sons (21:19; 22:13). (4) Both texts note the presence of a bush at the end of each account under which Ishmael is cast (21:15), and from which the ram is drawn (22:13). One could also add angelic communication at the time of despair (21:17; 22:11). The parallels are not coincidental; both Hagar and Abraham are the progenitors of great nations, and Hagar is the only woman in the Hebrew Bible to whom the promise of innumerable descendants is given (16:10), a promise otherwise reserved for patriarchs.

It might help us to realize that the original hearers of this story would have felt the same horror that we feel. Child sacrifice, officially abhorred in the OT (here and, e.g., Jeremiah 32:35) and prohibited in stereotyped language by Israelite legislation (e.g., Leviticus 18:21), was a feature of at least some of the worship practices of Israel's neighbors, as has been confirmed by the archaeological record. We can be grateful that the earliest Jewish traditions felt this horror at the idea of child sacrifice. As is true of other biblical characters (e.g., Jacob, David, the people of Israel), the story of Abraham includes a series of episodes centered on a theme. For Abraham, the theme is that of God testing him. The call of Abraham tests his willingness to leave a settled life behind for an unknown future (Genesis 12:1-3 (J)). His childlessness tests his willingness to trust the deity for fertility (a test he fails, Genesis 16 (E)). His fear of the loss of his life due to the admiration Pharaoh and Abimelech had for us Sarah tests his willingness to remain honorable (Genesis 12:10-20 (J); 20:1-18 (E)). The command to sacrifice Isaac is part of this series, although it quickly became the pre-eminent example in the religious traditions of Jews and Christians. As we shall learn, the test involves the trust Abraham would have in the goodness of God and the extent he was willing to obey. 

All of this is interesting. Yet, the fearful test of Abraham is one that has puzzled many. It puzzles me. Søren Kierkegaard wrote Fear and Trembling in 1843 under the pseudonym Johannes de Silento. This story provides the background for his reflection on the teleological suspension of the ethical. The story of the near-sacrifice of Isaac is one of the most troubling and powerful of biblical stories.  Why does God want to test Abraham in this way? What does it tell us about Abraham? What does it tell us about God? A story of a god who might threaten the life of an innocent child is deeply perplexing. Let us be honest. The story raises the question to us. What type of test might God give to us of our willingness to obey? As readers, we often approach the Bible with our questions for which we seek answers in the Bible. If we listen to this story, it raises more questions than it answers, even after we have finished interpreting the story. As readers, the writer lets us off the hook by informing us that the story is a test of Abraham. Yet, within the story, Abraham must take this call from God, this event, this moment, very seriously. This moment contains one of the most severe calls from God in Scripture. Could Abraham give up the child of promise? A better question might be whether Abraham will trust in the goodness of God. As readers, we want him to argue with God. Yet, he obeys the command silently and without question. In fact, we might accept the story easier if Abraham argued with God. He argued with God in the J story in Genesis 18, where the Lord, through angelic messengers, lets Abraham know of the intent to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. He argued for strangers, but in this story, he will not argue on behalf of his beloved son. Yet, it raises the question of our trust in the goodness of God as well. We know God is faithful. Our obedience is shaky even at its best. We talk a good game about “radical obedience.” If we know ourselves well, we also know we have fallen short. With this story firmly in mind, we are anxious about what God might call us to do. Yet, in the context of the canonical text, the Lord promised descendants, a son, and even Isaac. Could Abraham trust God amid such promises? It might well be that Abraham obeys silently because he trusts God to make him the Patriarch he longed to be in his heart. Thus, God is good, and therefore, Abraham can take Isaac on a journey to a mountain to sacrifice his “only son,” even though Ishmael is still around. If God is good, then we do not have a teleological suspension of the ethical. What we have is a test of whether Abraham will trust God and become a man of faith. We do not set aside virtue, which is a good guide for us. Yet, we need to be open at the extreme to obey God first. All ethics need to lead us closer to God. If, in the critical nature of this moment, our ethics lead us further from God, we need to suspend the ethical in this moment. Yet, if you came into my office and said God told you to kill or assassinate someone, I would do all I could to persuade you otherwise and have you placed under professional care. 

The story uses the horror of child sacrifice to make its point. Abraham would trust the goodness of God in all things. Our horror is a reminder that the true God would call no one to sacrifice a child or loved one. Yes, in this moment, God tested Abraham in this way. That moment has passed. In fact, if we are not careful, our horror of the original call may blind us from the primary point of the story. We can be grateful that the Jewish tradition quite early saw the horror of child sacrifice. At least in part, its system of animal sacrifice is a way of setting aside that practice. We can also be grateful as Christians that this story provides a powerful image of the meaning of the cross of Christ in the context of the Trinity. The cross sets aside the animal sacrifice of the Old Testament. The only and beloved Son is close to the heart of the Father and makes the Father known to us. The Father loves us so much that the Father gave the Son in a sacrificial act of supreme love so that we might find life (John 1:14, 18, 3:16). 

Our horror at this call, this test, is also a reminder of the precious quality of certain relationships in our lives. As important as they are, have those relationships become more precious to us than God has? To what are we loyal? God wants us to love God with all the heart, mind, soul, and strength. We can see the emphasis of the test in verse 12, as God spares Isaac because Abraham was willing to give up, sacrifice and surrender his precious son to God. 

Considered from another perspective, it may well be best to ignore the background of child sacrifice. The focus of this text is upon the obligation of radical obedience. Isaac is the gift of promise. Contained in him is the blessing that God had promised to give to Abraham. God conflicts with that promise. As horrible as the story is, human history has atrocities even greater than that. The story involves more than a child; it has to do with the promise, the sole divine consolation in the life and death of Abraham. The point may well be that if the sun of divine grace darkens, if the nearness, comfort, assurance, and hope of God vanish from our sight, then we are to know that in such severe trials, God is testing our faith.[1]

The story became powerful enough for New Testament authors that the language of Isaac being the beloved son of Abraham provided a way to talk about the relationship between Father and Son within the Trinity and for the actual sacrifice of the Son upon the cross. For Christians, the Father set aside the entire sacrificial system of the Old Testament through the sacrifice of the beloved Son. The Son offered his life in radical obedience to the Father and out of love for humanity. The love of the Father and the Son for each other and for humanity unites in the cross. 

What God did not allow Abraham to do, God did.  You, O God, have not withheld your only Son! You see,

God sent his Son, they called him Jesus,

he came to love, heal, and forgive;

he lived and died to buy my pardon ...

 

And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,

sent him to die, I scarce can take it in

that on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,

he bled and died to take away my sin;

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee;

how great thou art, how great thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee;

how great thou art, how great thou art!

 

Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim

till all the world adore his sacred name.

[Sing]

 

To God be the glory, great things he hath done!

So loved he the world that he gave us his Son,

who yielded his life an atonement for sin,

and opened the life-gate that all may go in.

 

To God be the glory, to God be the glory,

to God be the glory for the things he has done.

With his blood he has saved me;

with his power he has raised me;

to God be the glory for the things he has done.

 

To bring us back to the point of the story, it raises the question of what is precious to us. What are the finite things that are so precious to us that we cannot imagine our lives without them? Eventually, all of us will give up what is most precious to us and rest in the arms of God. Sadly, some of such precious relationships end too early, and we must live our lives without them. We will die, and the most precious of these relationships will end. When finite life has passed, the Christian hope is that we will rest in the eternal and infinite presence of God, in whom all relationships will find their reconciliation and fulfillment. 

In Jewish tradition, it is known as Akedah or binding. It occupied a significant role in rabbinic theology. It was incorporated into the daily liturgy. Jewish tradition regards it as the tenth and climactic test of Abraham, the first Jew.

¹After these things, referring to the series of trials and traumas that have befallen the household of Abraham, including, in 21:8-21, the expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael from Abraham's household. The long journey of the desire of his heart for a child is over. He should be able to live out the rest of his days in peace. Yet, God has another idea. Having acquiesced to his wife's demands that the slave woman Hagar and her son by Abraham be excluded from the patrimony of Abraham's line, Abraham is now confronted with the horrific demand by God that he offers his only remaining son as a burnt offering. God tested Abraham. Why?  The story does not tell us. The author lets the reader off the hook by knowing that is a test, regardless of how horrific the test might be. God will not take it seriously, but Abraham must.  In this concept of test, God is seeking to bring to light guilt or innocence. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am,” hinneni, "the immediacy, the here-and-now-ness, of the situation."[2] Indeed, "Ready" is one translation proposed for Abraham's response.[3]  It indicates readiness, alertness, attentiveness, receptivity, and responsiveness to instructions. The formula is also used in God's summoning of Jacob (Genesis 31:11; 46:2), Moses (Exodus 3:4), and Samuel (I Samuel 3:4). Isaiah will have a similar response. This intrusive call will be one of the most severe in all Scripture. ² He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, (the Hebrew order being: your son, your favored one, the one whom you love, Isaac) the terse description manages to paint a scene of tenderness between father and son. Not only is Isaac the center of the quest of Abraham for progeny, but he also loves him. Without this love, the command to sacrifice him would not have constituted much of a test. The phrasing will inform the Christian view of the Father offering his only Son. And go to (lekh-lekha, occurring in 12:1 as well) the land of Moriah, unknown place, but later tradition (II Chronicles 3:1) identified it with the temple mount in Jerusalem and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” Those words had to have cut Abraham to the heart. At least with the story of Hagar and Ishmael, the text informs us that the demand of Sarah troubled him. In this story, we hear none of that inner turmoil. The desire of his heart, which was secure, is now put at risk by the call of God. The son he had waited for was now being demanded from him. It is a story that makes every parent cringe at its seeming randomness. He had experienced other difficult and challenging callings, including leaving his family in search of a new land and the dismissal of Hagar and Ishmael from his family. He has trusted and obeyed. Some people in a comparable situation might think of it as the day his good fortune ran out. Yet, Abraham does not flinch. ³ So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. We need to note that Abraham obeys without question and silently. He obeys in a comparable way when God informed him of the promise over the life of Hagar and Ishmael. The contrast between Abraham's silent obedience in these contexts and his remonstrations on behalf of Sodom in 18:16-33 is striking. The point is theological: For himself, Abraham asks nothing; for strangers, wicked or innocent, he risks divine ire for the sake of mercy. The setting of Chapter 18 is forensic, and thus with justice. The setting of Chapter 22 is sacrificial. A sacrifice is not an execution. The unblemished condition of the sacrifice commends the act.  ⁴ On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. ⁵ Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” It is a strange statement for a man who is facing the prospect of killing his own son as a sacrifice to God. Abraham may be concealing the truth from his servants, let they prevent him from carrying out the will of God, from Isaac, lest he flee, and from himself, lest the frank acknowledgement of his real intention cause his resolve to break. Interpreters look at this story a lot of diverse ways, but even on the cusp of a tragic ending, Abraham seems to know that God will somehow provide. He has profound trust in the promise of God. ⁶ Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. The image of Isaac carrying the wood on which is to be burned adds enormous power to the story. It is like a person who carries his cross on his own shoulder (Gen. Rab 56.3). So the two of them walked on together. ⁷ Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am (hineni), my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” most rabbinic commentators see him as an adult and thus a willing participant in his own sacrifice, and thus the prototype of a Jewish martyr. ⁸ Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” God had already provided Abraham with his son, and Abraham somehow believes that God will provide for him again, even to the point of making sense of this random act of sacrifice. He has come to rely on God, rather than on good fortune, to sustain him. Now, in this ultimate "test" of faith, Abraham puts everything on the line and demonstrates a radical dependence on God, even offering God the most valued part of his life. So the two of them walked on together. Father and son have a single resolve, the one to bind and the other to be bound, the one to sacrifice and the other to be sacrificed (Gen. Rab. 56.3).

⁹ When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. ¹⁰ Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. Abraham's meticulous preparations of the altar and sacrifice, and his taking up of the knife in 22:9-10 bring this famous narrative to its peak of suspense. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “here I am (hineni).” ¹² He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” The fear of God denotes an active obedience to the divine will. God can call off the last trial or test of Abraham because Abraham has demonstrated that this obedience is uppermost for him, surpassing even his paternal love for Isaac. Here is the point of the story. To what extent would Abraham obey God? He would surrender what was most precious to him.

"Who of you, do you suppose, will sometime hear the voice of an angel saying: 'Now I know that you fear God, because you spared not your son,' or your daughter or wife, or you spared not your money or the honors of the world or the ambitions of the world, but you have despised all things and 'have counted all things dung that you may gain Christ, you have sold all things and have given to the poor and have followed the Word of God?' Who of you, do you think, will hear a word of this kind from the angels? Meanwhile Abraham hears this voice, and it is said to him: 'You spared not your beloved son because of me.'"[4]

 

 ¹³ And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. The substitution of a male sheep for the first-born son has parallels in the ancient Near East. It foreshadows the story of the paschal lamb in Exodus 12:1-42. The story is not about the superiority of animal to human sacrifice. The story is not a polemic against human sacrifice. God commands the sacrifice of Isaac at the beginning of the story and now commends and rewards Abraham for being will to carry it through at the end. In Gen Rab 56.9, Abraham prays that God see the blood of the ram as if it were the blood of my son Isaac. We now have what might be another piece of the J tradition: ¹⁴ So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.” The name of the otherwise unattested site plays on the words of Abraham in verse 8. The enigmatic verse may connect the site of Akedah to the Temple mount. 

The story ends with the mystery unresolved. God not only creates the crisis for Abraham, but God also puts the fulfillment of the promise at risk. No reason is given. Abraham does not ask for one. The sparse narration is unconcerned with human emotion. Abraham announces his readiness three times, ever faithful to the inscrutable demand of God. The child was pure gift. The unfolding of the future is gift as well. Life with God is an ongoing journey that demands both fearful and grateful response. The obedience of Abraham is born of a life of deep trust in the God who calls new futures into being. The God who tests will be same God who graciously provides. 

The story ends with the affirmation that the God does not require such sacrifices, but it began and concluded with the implication that the truly faithful are willing to lay the lives of their children before the object of their faith.  Thus, the story leaves the reader to struggle with that profound question. So, the question is not, will we sacrifice our children?  The question is, to which god, upon which altar will we sacrifice our children.  We are all busy sacrificing our children to some god, laying their lives upon some altar.  So, the question is not if we shall be like Abraham and be willing to sacrifice our children to our god, but rather which god shall have the lives of our children?[5]

Ancient peoples assumed the world was a random place and that forces beyond their control gave them good or bad luck in arbitrary ways. Pantheistic religions believed the gods used fortune and misfortune to manipulate human lives; thus, it was best to please the gods who might give you fortune and avoid ticking off the ones who could give you a run of bad luck. In the Roman Pantheon, for example, a cult formed around the goddess Fortuna, whose worship emerged around the time that the Carthaginian general Hannibal was threatening Rome. Then, as now, people in crisis tend to organize their theological worldview around the immediacy of the lucky break. Paying attention to the gods of fortune or luck, whether their altars are in a casino or at the counter of a convenience store, is what Wayne Oates calls a "secular religion." 

Oates' similarly titled 1995 book, Luck: A Secular Religion, traces the human fascination with luck and challenges it as being, well, bankrupt. Oates defines luck as "confidence - that is, faith - in fate, in chance, in cleverness, in figuring out probabilities. ... All are focused upon the immediate time situation, upon the here and now. All are distinctly dependent upon human existence apart from any fellowship with or interdependence on the supernatural or the everlasting realities of life." Luck is an isolating belief, where the individual stands over and against the community. It's the realm of arbitrary winners and losers. Luck is, as the old saying goes, "the idol of the idle."

God will teach Abraham, however, that luck really has nothing to do with his fortune, his prosperity or the birth of his son. Unlike the gods of the pantheistic Canaanites in whose land Abraham wanders, this God is not doling out arbitrary blessings and curses, luck and "unluck," but is instead focused on obedience and what we might call "providence." Among the primary themes of the story of Abraham is what happens when one lives in obedience to the call and promise of God. God chose him from among the families of the earth to offer the promise of land, and he obeyed. Even with the delay in having a child, Abraham continued to trust. He trusted the promise of God regarding his son, Ishmael. The "binding of Isaac," as it is known among the rabbis, is a lesson in radical dependence on God as the real Provider of all we need. 

Wayne Oates writes that if luck is a secular faith, the belief in providence is a sacred one. "The sacred option for dealing with the givens of life springs from a steadfast faith in the providence of God," he says. "A believer in providence, although not able to see the hand of God at work in a given situation of one's lot in life, nevertheless holds to the faith that God will deliver him or her from that forced situation according to the distinct purpose God has for his or her life. Therefore, the believer can put up with the oppression of the givens of the present moments of life, live by faith not knowing where he or she is going, but look forward, as Abraham did, 'to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God' (Hebrews 11:10) ... . This faith in providence is lived in a community of faith, not in isolation and self-sufficiency." 

Faith in luck is a lonely faith, a fatalistic acquiescence to chance. Faith in God and God's providence, however, is faith in a relationship with One who promises to supply what we need, when we need it, "according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:19). Abraham believed in providence and his beloved son was spared. God is the one who provides, even to the point of sacrificing his own Son, the Christ, for us.

If luck is all about the individual pursuit of everything we think we want, then providence is about accepting the promise that God supplies everything we need - and not just for us, but for all God's people. While luck seeks to obtain, providence invites us to share. Luck buys lottery tickets. Providence is invested in a community.

---

[1] (von Rad, Biblical Interpretation in Preaching 1973, 1977) 35-7.

[2] (An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew [New York: Scribner, 1971], 168).

[3] (E. A. Speiser, Genesis [Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1964], 161).

[4] Origen, in his commentary on this passage.

[5] Gene Tucker, “Reading and Preaching the Old Testament,” Listening to the Word, 1993.