The Rev. Robert Lundquist Lent II 3/12/06 St Paul’s, Ft Collins

“You will show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures forevermore…”

This Genesis story of Abraham and Isaac has got to be one of the most chilling and gut-wrenching stories in the Bible. The sense is only enhanced by the flat, dispassionate telling. Not getting any clues from the recounting, we’re stuck with the content. And our 21^st century minds are captured by the horror of it. And it doesn’t help to put it in a more contemporary retelling…

Abraham is all you could expect of a neighbor – a respected leader, an exemplar of faith, a solid and upright member of the community. One day the “Voice” tells him to offer his son, Isaac. Abraham sets his mind on following the command, for the “Voice” has never let him down. In fact, the “Voice” has blessed him richly. Abraham has an older son Ishmael, born out of wedlock, who is already grown and out on his own. Isaac is his only son by his wife Sarah, born in their later years as promised by the “Voice.” Now Abraham is asked to give back his son Isaac.

He loses sleep, tossing and turning. But he speaks to Sarah, telling he that he needs some quality time with Isaac. She’s puzzled – this is something new – but she sees how excited Isaac is to be going camping with his dad that she says nothing. The day comes when they load up the SUV with the tent, sleeping bags, fishing poles… They drive by the school where Isaac’s friends are just getting out of class. He waves to them with a big grin on his face. Isaac jauntily reaches over and turns on the radio. But Abraham turns it off without a word. He keeps his eyes rigidly on the road. And Isaac feels an unexplainable chill.

Author and psychoanalyst Alice Miller identifies this very text as doing more than any other in history to justify child abuse. Generations of hearing with uncritical ears may very well have supported the sins we are only now beginning to confront. We can all think of scriptural passages that seemingly condone slavery, racism, sexism, and abuse of all sorts. Any nuance of caution, any hint of the “negative example” seems to have evaporated in many, many instances. And here in this story from Genesis, hearing God acknowledge Abraham’s “love” for Isaac makes it all the more creepy. Isaac the son becomes an object rather than a person in the telling, and the only emotion one can discern is fear – the son’s growing fear, and the father’s anguished terror.

So they park the SUV, unpack the gear, and begin to hike. Isaac bounds ahead, excitedly quizzing his dad. “Yes, Isaac, you may collect the firewood…”

In 1634 Rembrandt created The Sacrifice of Isaac. While dozens if not hundreds of painters have portrayed this dramatic story, Rembrandt’s is particularly poignant. The viewer sees the pain in Abraham’s face. The boy is on the rustic altar of sacrifice, the firewood beneath him. With his left hand Abraham both covers Isaac’s eyes and stretches his neck for the killing blow. His right hand has raised the butcher’s tool. But an angel has grabbed his arm, and the dagger is falling to the ground.

http:/www.wga.hu/art/r/rembran/painting/biblic3/abraham.jpg

Some scholars say this story recounts in symbolic form the end of child sacrifice by the Hebrews. The realization that God and the universe do not require the blood offering of our offspring is an enormous blessing. Thus the deeper message is that of trusting God. How do we do so in the midst of darkness and despair? If we cannot appease or control God with the sacrifice of what is dearest to us, what are we to do?

We are to cling to God alone – not our illusions, not our expectations, not even the promises we think we’ve heard. We are to cling to God alone. Peter clings to his expectations of what the Messiah should be and do, but Jesus points to God alone. Can we hear this message?

As we look back to the scriptures today we can realize that God did not ask more of Abraham than God was willing to do. We see the parallels between them. We begin to sense that the son as sacrifice becomes Jesus on the cross. “You must take up your cross and follow me,” he says. This was the most shameful thing imaginable for a first-century Jew – to carry the instrument of your execution to the place of your death. Yet Jesus says quite plainly that that is what one must be prepared to do – face humiliation for the love of God. Just as Isaac carried the firewood to the place of sacrifice, Jesus carried the crossbeam to Golgotha.

We know that Jesus prayed, and that angels brought him strength – but the cup did not pass from him. Now God stands in Abraham’s sandals, and there is no angel to stay Pilate’s hand. God is silent on Good Friday, when not even Abraham’s “Here I am” is heard to comfort.

Yet “…neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Trust in God – because Easter is coming.

“You will show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures forevermore…”

Amen.

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