I want to begin by saying "It's one of the toughest passages in the Bible theologically" but I feel like we say that so much it has become trite. But yet, the story of God demanding Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac truly is a bear. Preach on it at your own peril. Bring it up in a Bible Study only if you dare. The safest bet with a story like this is to just stay away.
But yet, there it is. Of all the words about God that have not been canonized, this one has. And it was only in reading Hans Urs Von Balthasar's classic Mysterium Paschale that I was struck by the beauty of this passage. To convince you that there is beauty to be found within this passage, I'll have to do some explaining.
First, the objections. On the surface this story isn't very pretty. Let's synopsize. When God makes a covenant with Abram, the sign and promise of the covenant is that Abram and his wife (though real old) will have a son. Eventually they do have the child, named Isaac. When the time our particular story picks up, Abram is now called Abraham and Isaac has grown up a bit. The story begins, "After these things, God tested Abraham." Already we are theologically uncomfortable. "God testing" is typically something we reserve for bad conservative theology, a fundamentalist notion that hardly renders the image of God unequivocally pro nobis.
But God nevertheless decides to test Abraham and says to him, "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." As modern people we read this and say, "Well that's just messed up." God asks Abraham to kill Isaac, the only son, the son of the covenant, the promise. God even admits that this son is one whom Abraham loves. Our modern sensibilities cannot fathom this request. Remember this point, we'll come back to it in a minute.
Abraham arises early the next day and takes Isaac up the mountain. Notice that Sarah, Isaac's mother, is mentioned no where in this story. They go to the base of the mountain and leave behind the servant, while Isaac is forced to carry the wood for the fire that will consume him. Isaac asks, as I'm sure any curious child would, "I see we have the wood and fire for the sacrifice, but where is the lamb?" Abraham simply replies, "The Lord will provide." They get to the top of the mountain and all the preparations are made. Isaac is placed upon the altar and Abraham raises a knife in the air ready to sacrifice his son. Then, at the final moment, God stays Abraham's hand and provides a ram to be sacrificed in Isaac's place. Abraham and Isaac return down the mountain and this incident is never mentioned again.
We read this story as modern people and are appalled that God would require such a sacrifice. We read the story and are more relieved than joyful when God stays Abraham's hand. But what if we read this story as ancient people? What if we read this story with the same reactions and surprises that people would have when the story was first written? If we lived in a society that tolerated human sacrifice, that saw human sacrifice as necessary to please the gods, then we might not be so sickened by the notion that a god might require a servant to sacrifice a son. If we lived in a society that would see the first half of the story as the norm and the end of the story as grace, what might this story do to transform the image of God we have in our hearts and minds?
But what if we went beyond that? What if we went beyond reading it in light of ancient culture and practice? What if we went beyond trying to read it withing a culture we don't live in or have any recollection of? What if we read it in terms of something more important than history, sociology, and anthropology? What if we read it in light of the action that is central to reality, the universe, and our lives as Christians? What if we read it in light of the story of Jesus Christ?
This is where Balthasar comes in. In Mysterium Paschale, he writes a section on the surrender of Christ, the handing over of Christ into the hands of sinners. This comes during a chapter that looks in great detail at the theological complexity of the events that happened on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. As Christ is handed over into the hands of the Romans for the rest of the passion narrative to unfold, Balthasar sees something else going on. At first he notes that in every instance in the Old Testament, God is the primary actor whenever anyone is handed over to another person or group of people. Continuing this theme and layering the Biblical narrative with Trinitarian theology, he writes, "From this point there arises the Trinitarian theme which develops in three forms: God the Father hands over his Son, thanks to his love for us, but it is also due to Christ's love for us, in such a way that in Christ's gratuitous self-gift the Father's unconditional love becomes plain" (111). In essence, what we see going on when looking from a Trinitarian perspective is that God the Father hands over his beloved Son into the hands of humanity out of God's love for humanity. The Son, in perfect obedience to the Father and out of love for humanity, obliges the Father in this action. And as we know, humanity then kills the Son.
Let us now return to the story of Abraham, Isaac, God and sacrifice. In this story, we see the exact same thing. Abraham hands over his son, Isaac, to God out of love for God. Isaac, out of love for his father and for God, obliges. The result here is different: God spares Isaac, Abraham's son.
Abraham hands over his son Isaac to God and Isaac lives. God hands God's son (Jesus) over to humanity and Jesus dies.
Now let's throw one last thing in the mix because I'm also reading God's Companions by Sam Wells. In discussing baptism, Sam Wells talks about the stripping and dying to self that occurs in baptism. There has always been an element of baptism that involves dying to self and being incorporated into Christ's death so that we might be incorporated into Christ's resurrection and new life. If that is so, then every baby whom we baptize is handed over to God. Every baby whom we baptize goes through the same process Isaac went through. Sure, we don't use knives or come anywhere close to killing a child. But if we actually believe the metaphors we use for baptism, then to talk about death with respect to baptism puts the person baptized in the position of Isaac. We hand over the baby to God.
A vindictive God might do to the child exactly as we have done to God's son. A vindictive omniscient God might have done to Isaac exactly what we would do to God's son. But that is not the God we serve.
Instead, our God forgives. Instead, our God reaches out in grace. Instead, our God works to save even those people that would murder His son.
Which is precisely why we hand over our children to such a God. We hand over our children to that God because we know our children are better off in His hands than they are in humanity's.
So instead of reading this story, the story of Abraham and Isaac and sacrifice, as a story of a blood thirsty God testing his helpless servant, let us instead read it as an incredible story of a God who refuses to do to us what we have done to Him. Let us instead read it and be transformed by the incredible love and grace shown towards us in the face of our shame and guilt. And as we approach Holy Week, let us remember who we are before God: the one who killed His son.
Jesus was handed over to us. As we remember and relive exactly what we did to him, let us be brought not just to a place of guilt and sorrow, but also to a place of awe and wonder about the love God has for us that he can endure such betrayal and respond, "I love you."
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