This Is Only A Test

Genesis 22:1-14

The truth is we still had some residual hard feelings about the Hagar story when we gathered this week at the roundtable. We were, at various times and to various degrees, angry at all of them – Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar – for the harm they did to one another. But we were not angry at God. Not yet.

The story of the binding of Isaac – this was a different matter.

This was a test of Abraham. Why was a test required? Had he not shown himself to be a faithful man, obedient to God in every way?

When God gave the order, Abraham did not say a word – unlike the time when he made a vigorous case for saving Sodom from destruction. Was it not worth the trouble, this time, to argue with God?

He took Isaac and some young servants with him on the journey to Mount Moriah for the sacrifice. He offered no information other than that they would be worshiping God.

We assume he lied to his servants out of necessity. Wouldn’t they have tried to stop him if they knew what he was intending to do? Wouldn’t any one of us have tried to stop him?

He made ready the fire and the boy, placing him bound on top of the wood. Then he took the knife to kill his son.

This is one of the most unbearable stories in the scriptures and I may very well go to my grave not knowing what to make of it.

What to make of a father who, after so many years of waiting for a child, so many years of obedience to a mysterious God with a vague promise, responds to this outrageous demand with – nothing.

Abraham does not challenge God, as he did in the case of Sodom. He does not seem greatly distressed, as he did when Ishmael was to be banished. Now, when the promise has become flesh and blood, when Abraham has love and laughter in his house, when he can see a clear future beyond him – he says nothing. He simply follows the order of God.

One thing alone we hear from the boy Isaac. “Father, the fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?”  Abraham simply says, “God will see to it, my son.”

In this sentence, I am listening for hope. I am hoping that Abraham has hope that God will provide another lamb to be sacrificed. Or, if not, that God will provide understanding, that Abraham might somehow, someday, see why this was necessary.

In the end, we have an old man and a boy who are alive, but most certainly traumatized – and, perhaps, hopelessly bitter.

The truth is this: I find nothing praiseworthy in this story. I accept that undivided loyalty to God is necessary, and that this loyalty requires very hard choices at times; that God’s commitment to us is steadfast, and that blessings abound. But, to imagine that this father and son would have to submit to such profound suffering for the sake of a test? I’m not there yet.

Photo: By BigBrotherMouse - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=29147624

The Rhythm of the Days

Genesis 1:1-2:4

“Listen to this passage as a work of poetry,” is the way I introduced our scriptural text for the week to the roundtable. So often we approach the biblical texts as instructions for life, or as historical documentation. Neither of these approaches is at all helpful when we are reading the priestly account of God’s majestic work of creation.

When in doubt, we seem to go for the details, the little things. There is a hunger for more information, so I often get asked for more details, as if I have a different Bible that tells me more than the layman’s version.  This time, I had hopes that we could approach the text with a sense of wonder. And perhaps it worked.

“So, when it says God created the birds of the air, does that mean the robins and the cardinals and all the different kinds of birds that we know?” It’s an interesting question. Did God create every kind of bird that we know, or did some of these evolve later?

“Did God actually finish creating the world on the sixth day, or is the world still, somehow, being created?” The land and the seas are still moving, changing; species of plants and animals are still evolving; and the universe, itself, seems to be ever expanding. 

“How are we to understand the instruction God gives humankind to “subdue” the earth?” Knowing what we know now about the ways our efforts to become masters over the creation can do severe harm, do we want to consider a gentler approach? Such as to “tend” the earth?  Yes, here is another reminder that it does not always serve us well to read the scriptures as an instructional text, as if every verse of every book were law.

Finally, we asked about the seventh day. What do we think about this day of rest? With due reverence, we opined that God certainly deserved it. “But what about us,” I asked. “Do we deserve it?”

Of this we were not so sure. One after another spoke up in defense of certain kinds of work that must be done, even on the Sabbath day. Hospital patients need care, cows need milking. It’s just not possible for us to abandon all work for the sake of a day of rest.

Of course, this is true. Yet, I wonder. For what purpose did the priestly source include the description of this seventh day? What purpose could it be other than to say something about the essential nature of this regular pause in our activity? This is true for all living creatures. No one is so important that the world cannot go on without them. By the same token, no one is so insignificant that they can be worked interminably.

Sabbath is, perhaps, a reminder of our inherent worth to God – a worth that is given to each one of us in equal measure. As I read this story of creation, it is easy to see it as a story of gift. God holds the world lightly, with grace and blessing, and in the end, takes sacred joy in this creation. How could we ever imagine that we should do any differently?

Photo: By NASA/Apollo 17 crew; taken by either Harrison Schmitt or Ron Evans