A Reflection for Thursday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time
“I will bless you abundantly and make your descendants as countless as the stars of the sky and the sands of the seashore.”
The story of Abraham and Isaac is one of the most fascinating, and troubling, in the Bible. It has inspired philosophers like no other. The medieval of course had much to say about Abraham, but Immanuel Kant, Søren Kierkegaard, and Friedrich Hegel all have extensive commentary on this passage as well. Pope Benedict XVI addresses it right at the start of his Introduction to Christianity. All of these thinkers are fascinated by the tension this story seems to introduce between morality, as we mere humans understand it, and the demands of faith. As faithful Christians, we believe that God cannot work evil, or lead us into sin. Why then would God tell Abraham to do something so terrible? Why was he praised for his willingness to obey? What lessons should we draw about the God who created us, who we trust to sustain us in his love?
When a story perplexes the most brilliant minds in history, it’s clear that it contains some mysteries. Despite that, Abraham’s story is told with such haunting simplicity that even young children can engage with it. I have vivid memories of one icy winter afternoon years ago, when I was navigating difficult road conditions on the way home from school. From the back seat my kindergartener called, “Mom, why did God want Abraham to sacrifice Isaac?”
“Can we discuss this later?” I asked. “I’m focusing right now on driving safely.”
“Well, you know,” my son replied loftily, “I think this is pretty important.”
He was right of course, and Isaac was observant too. Lest we forget that he is in fact a child, and not merely a symbol, we are told in Genesis of the conversation the boy has with his father as they climb the mountain together. He wants to know why they haven’t brought an animal for the sacrifice. In Abraham’s cryptic reply, we glimpse the depths of his anguish. Moving ahead to the critical moment on Mount Moriah, the story is told in such plain, direct language that there is nowhere for the reader to hide. We are forced to face the horror. Abraham built the altar. Next he tied Isaac, and put him on the wood. Then he reached for the knife to slaughter his son.
When a story perplexes the most brilliant minds in history, it’s clear that it contains some mysteries.
Pause for a moment to absorb it. It is incomprehensible. And yet, this story is foundational to the Christian tradition. This is part of our faith.
God intervened, of course. Abraham was not actually forced to kill his own child. He was nevertheless required to follow God, with trust, to a place beyond human comprehension, beyond a recognizable moral order, and beyond his own deepest and most precious human attachments. He was asked to give God everything. Because he was willing to do that, not just his own family but “all the nations of the earth” found blessing.
We cannot fully understand God’s purpose in making such an awful demand. However, we can appreciate that following God’s command is, at times, extraordinarily difficult. Over the course of a Christian life, we will all experience this. In life’s more difficult moments, we may sometimes wonder whether it is simply too hard. We glimpse the possibility of being broken on the rocks of God’s weighty demands. Our physical and mental health, our cherished relationships, and our most precious hopes and dreams all seem to hang in the balance.
We can hope, as Abraham surely did, that God will intervene. But whatever happens, we know that he sees our willingness to sacrifice all for his sake. We know that he rewards and blesses those who give themselves entirely to him. And unlike Abraham, we know one thing more. We have a God who loves us so much, he was willing to sacrifice his own beloved son so that we could enjoy life with him.
