The Climatic Part of Abraham's Story (to kill his own son).

In chapter 12, Abraham is asked to cut himself off from the past; in chapter 22, he is asked to cut himself off from the future.

What sort of God would do such a thing? That is the question we ask. But apparently, according to the story the answer to the question is that it is the same God that Abraham has known and believed and obeyed from the beginning. This seems incredible to us, but it is a feature of the story that Abraham seems to believe that God is entirely within his rights to demand this of him.

The most dreadful part of the story, of course, is that Abraham is supposed to do the deed himself. God doesn't ask Abraham to send Isaac out to play in the street so God can come along in a truck and mow him down; that would have been bad enough. What is infinitely worse is that Abraham personally is supposed to slit the boy's throat. The writer does not altogether suppress the human side of this, but the restraint shown in the telling is a clue to us that the meaning of the story lies on the theological plane. Isaac does not function in the story as though he was just a boy; his primary role in the story is as the embodiment of God's promise this should not lessen the peculiar horror of the situation, however, for the narrator allows us to feel it fully as Abraham makes his three days' journey.

Three days! Conceivably one might carry out an unthinkable order on impulse, in a moment's blind recklessness; but God sends Abraham on a three-day journey to a distant spot so that he will have plenty of time to think about what he has been asked to do. Even Martin Luther quailed at the prospect; he said we could view the journey to Mount Moriah only from a distance, and that he himself could not have been a spectator, let alone a participant or the executioner --- in fact, he compares himself and us to the donkeys that were left behind at the foot of the mountain. Again, we emphasise the uniqueness of the story: God asked Abraham to do something that he would never again ask anyone to do. And, be it noted, the hearer of the story is told something that Abraham does not know --- namely, that God never had any intention of going through with the killing; he did it to "test" Abraham.

Is this some kind of cruel joke? God already knows everything; why then does he put Abraham to the test? A clue is found in Romans when Paul calls Abraham "the father of us all." The Christian tradition has always known Abraham to be the "father of believers." It is Abraham's faith, the meaning of it, the depth of it, the application of it, and above all the source of it that is central to the story of the sacrifice of Isaac.

The depth of Abraham's faith is suggested by the degree of anguish which afflicts him. Typically, the narrator does not describe this directly. Rather, it is implied, hinted at, evoked in the twice-repeated statement that, after the servants were told to stay behind with the donkeys, "the two of them went on together." Some of the greatest imaginations in the world have been applied to the matter of what Abraham and Isaac said to each other as they were "going on together." But once again, the singular artistry of our storyteller defeats all such attempts:

As the two of them went on together, Isaac spoke up and said to Abraham, "Father?"
"Yes, my son?" Abraham replied.
"The fire in the wood are here," Isaac said, "but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?"
Abraham answered, "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son." And the two of them went on together. (21:7-8)

The reticence and economy with which the journey is described contrasts with the detailed account of the preparation of the sacrifice. The narrative pace slows to an excruciating crawl:

Abraham built an altar there,
and arranged the wood on it;
he bound his son Isaac,
and laid him on the altar,
on top of the wood.
Then he reached out his hand,
and took the knife
to slay his son (11:9-10)

And we are to understand, make no mistake, that for Abraham this does not mean the death of his personal hopes only. For Abraham, and therefore for us, the hearers of the story, the end of Isaac means the end of hope for the salvation and blessing of the entire world. It means the end of the purposes of God.

When I went to see my mentor with my fears about nuclear annihilation and the end of civilization, my question was really whether I could go on believing in God in view of what I had seen in my mind's eye when I looked out over the Statue of Liberty. I remember in particular the thought that if there was an all-out nuclear exchange, the survivors would not even be able to find bread or water --- let alone wine --- to have the Lord's supper. This seemed to me to be the ultimate in the destruction of a human future.

I am sure my professor had many things to say that day, but I remember only one. He said, gently, "Fleming, did you think that God had not thought of that?"

I don't know if this works for you. All I can say is that with those simple words my hope in God was restored to me. I realised that, as Paul writes, the God in whom Abraham believed is able to raise the dead and to call into existence the things that do not exist.

Quoted from Fleming Rutledge's book, "And God Spoke to Abraham"

to be continued .......