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I’ve been rereading The Lord of the Rings because it is one of my favorite set of books and . . . it’s one of the few books that I was able to find as we were unpacking boxes. There is a scene about three quarters through the book where the Fellowship are traveling through the Mines of Moriah, the same name as the mountain on which Abraham and Isaac are traveling, and they get to a fork in the road. One passage goes up, another down, and another level with where they are. Gandalf thinks for a moment and says, “I have no memory of this place.” He becomes confused because he doesn’t know which way to go. The story of Abraham and the binding of Isaac also expresses a moment of confusion, at least, for the reader. There is little inner dialogue in the story. We don’t know what Abraham is thinking. We don’t know whether or not Isaac was a willing participant. The language is ambiguous. God has asked Abraham to do a stomach-churning thing. It’s just a heavy story.
All we know in terms of inner dialogue, or thought, is that God is testing Abraham, and this is crucial to the story. It’s like when you hear that awful sound on the radio while you’re listening to your favorite station, and a soothing voice speaks saying, “This is a test, this is only a test.” It’s as if the author of this story wants us to know that this is not a story condoning child abuse. Abraham is being tested in this situation, not commanded as he was when God said, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” even though the language in this story is very similar, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” Go, Abraham. Go and leave your family behind.
The obedient Abraham rose early in the morning and set out with Isaac and two other servants. While on the journey, Abraham and Isaac have their only recorded conversation in the Bible. Isaac said, “Father,” and again Abraham says, “Here I am.” “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering,” which is a wonderful question. Abraham replies, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” Abraham’s response exemplifies the ambiguity of the story. This statement can be understood in two completely different ways. The first, “God himself will provide the lamb, my son,” seems to suggest that Abraham trusted that God was not going to allow this sacrifice to take place. The other way of hearing this statement, “God himself will provide the lamb—my son,” suggests that God promised Isaac for the sole purpose of this sacrifice. In this reading it sounds like Abraham is fully expecting to sacrifice his son. What is Abraham thinking? We don’t know, and I’m not sure that we are supposed to.
On the third day they finally reach their destination. The text is very “matter-of-fact,” about this scene. Abraham built an altar and laid out the wood. He then bound Isaac and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Abraham then reached for his knife and then the story is interrupted with a sense of urgency. A messenger of the Lord swoops in and says, “Abraham, Abraham,” and for the third time, Abraham replies, “Here I am.” The angel tells Abraham not to harm the boy, and then, most peculiarly, God says, “Now I know that you fear God because you have not withheld your son from me.” Now I know, says God. Was this a test for Abraham, or was this a test for God?
Rembrandt had this in mind when he painted this story. He painted this story at least twice in his career, once at the beginning and once at the end. In his first portrait, Abraham is forcing Isaac down. You can’t see Isaac’s face. Only his torso is seen. Isaac looks like a sacrifice. The knife is coming down, ready to follow the command and the angel is swooping in without a moment to loose. Now, in the second rendition, Rembrandt’s take on this scene is quite different. Abraham has the knife turned upwards. Isaac seems to be a willing participant. The angel is somewhat holding Abraham instead of knocking the knife out of his hands. In the second attempt, it seems like God is saying to Abraham, “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. I swear by my own name that you will be blessed.”
The text leaves us with questions. Paintings by Rembrandt’s own hand give us two different scenarios for the same event. The song we will sing during holy moments is a great attempt at trying to understand, through music, what Abraham’s inner thoughts must have been like. Even with the volumes which have been written and the music and artwork produced, we are still left with unfathomable ethical problems if the story stands alone. Maybe this story is just part of something larger at work?
If we back up a few chapters in Genesis we read the story of Abraham and the three visitors. The three visitors came to Abraham’s tent and he greeted them with an abundance of bread for food and water with which to wash their feet. The three strangers then give a promise to Abraham. They reveal God’s promise, because of Abraham’s faithfulness, Abraham and Sarah will find life. The visitors say, “The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John 17:22-23). Skip a chapter and we hear Hagar’s story. Abraham and Sarah were without a child so Sarah told Abraham to “lay with” her servant, Hagar. And the obedient Abraham concurred. Hagar gave birth to Ishmael and all was well, except now that Sarah has a son of her own, Isaac, she didn’t like Hagar and Ishmael hanging around. Sarah went to Abraham and told him to send them away. Obedient Abraham concurred after much prayer. Abraham rises early in the day and places bread and water upon Hagar’s back, the same bread and water which was given in abundance to the three visitors was now meagerly shared so that Hagar knew her death was inevitable. When she reached the barren wasteland she cried out to God saying, “Father, if you are willing, let this cup pass from me, yet not my will but your will be done” (Luke 22:42).
This brings us to our story today. Abraham rises early in the day and instead of bread and water upon Hagar, he prepares wood and a knife for Isaac. He places the wood upon his son’s back. The son slowly travels up the mountain. The father silently weeps as his son struggles with the weight upon his shoulders. The wood is laid out. The son is placed upon it. And then Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” except this time . . . it’s not a test.
These three stories foreshadow the story of Christ—Christ’s promise of life, Christ’s struggle in the garden of Gethsemane, and Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, a story which finds it’s climax at Christ’s resurrection. The story of the binding of Isaac is a long and difficult story. It spans thousands of years. Isaac’s question, “where is the lamb,” has been answered.” “The Lord will provide the lamb, my son.” The son, Christ Jesus, is the lamb for the world. Through Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection we have found life. We have become heirs of Abraham’s promise, a promise that allows us to see the story of Christ in the most terrible and inexplicable situations. Abraham’s story is Christ’s story, a story that ends in resurrection. May your story this day be Christ’s story, so that your life will lead not to death, but to life everlasting.