Faith in the God of Life:
The Sacrifice of Isaac
by Pierre Gilbert
When tragedy strikes, it is not uncommon to hear that we
must have faith. But what does it mean to have faith? The
book of Hebrews offers Abraham as an ideal example of faith
(Hebrews 11:8-20). The author alludes, however, to one of
the most shocking stories of the Old Testament to make his
point: God's request that Abraham sacrifice his only child,
Isaac. How does such a story illustrate faith? Is faith some
kind of blind mindless allegiance to a blood-thirsty God? In
order to get a better insight into the significance of this
story, we need to examine Genesis 22:1-19.
Right from the outset, the reader is left speechless by
the apparent immorality and unfairness of God's demand.
Isaac is not only a son, but the very promise of a future
for Abraham. Plenty of preachers have waxed at length about
the horrendous anguish Abraham must have felt as he
contemplated what laid ahead. But part of the difficulty in
this story is the startling absence of any reference to
Abraham's distress or to any opposition to God's request. At
first sight, this is somewhat arresting. One presumes that
Abraham must have experienced some degree of despair over
God's demand, as any father would, but the author chooses
not emphasize it. We are left with the systematic, calm,
inescapable, and unrelenting progression of the drama. If
anything, it is the reader who worries and frets over
Abraham's insane course of action and the frightening
possibility that he will go through with the sacrifice. In
verses 9-10, the story reaches its climax: Abraham binds his
son, lays him on the altar and stands, poised to inflict the
fatal strike.
But then, the unexpected happens. Suddenly, an insistent
and urgent call echoes from heaven: "Abraham! Abraham! ...
Do not lay a hand on the boy, ... Do not do anything to him.
Now I know that you fear God..." (vv. 12-13). The contrast
between Abraham, on the one hand, and Isaac, the reader, and
the angel, on the other hand, is unmistakable. Abraham is
portrayed as resolute and calm; evidently convinced that
something extraordinary is going to happen (v. 8). In the
remaining portion of this story (vv. 13-19), the crisis is
resolved: A substitute is offered for the life of Isaac, and
the Lord reiterates the promise to make Abraham into a great
nation.
So, what does this story teach us about faith? At a very
basic level, this text highlights the remarkable character
of Abraham's faith. This is faith at its best. God speaks
and Abraham responds. That's all there is to it. Part of the
reason for the insertion of this story in the book of
Genesis is to provide a concrete example of faith in and
loyalty to God.
But one nagging question remains: How can Abraham remain
so brazenly confident throughout the whole ordeal? Part of
the explanation is inherent to Abraham's overwhelming
gratefulness towards God: there was a time when Abraham had
no future, and now he does (see Gen. 12:1-3). But there is
something else percolating below the surface: Abraham has an
absolute confidence in God, because he knows exactly whom he
is dealing with!
Trust is always based on knowledge. My brother and I
implicitly and unconditionally trust each other. For
example, I often use one of his credit cards to book
flights; it enables him to accumulate air miles. Once, he
unexpectedly received a bill for almost $1200.00. He
immediately called me to inform me of the payment deadline
and simply hung up. No further comments were needed. When he
and his wife wrote up their will, he said to me: "If we both
die, you get the twins and all our financial assets." He
implicitly assumed that I would take care of the children
and wisely manage their resources. Only one thing can
justify this kind of trust: We know each other. We have
history. Abraham has complete confidence in God, because he
has an intimate knowledge of God.
But can we reconcile such brazen confidence with the
notion of a God who literally asks for a human sacrifice? To
us such a request seems both immoral and scandalous. But
considering the context of the patriarchal period, it
probably did not come as a complete and shocking surprise to
Abraham. Infant sacrifice was not an uncommon occurrence in
the religions of the Ancient Near East. For example, Baal,
the Canaanite fertility god, would occasionally require the
flesh and blood of infants to satisfy his hunger (2 Kings
16:3; Micah 6:7). We know that under Israelite law, the
first-born belonged to God and had to be redeemed by a
sacrifice (Ex. 13:1, 12, 13, 15; 22:29; Nb. 3:13; 18:15).
We can safely assume that the request to sacrifice a
child to a deity would not have been out of character in
terms of Abraham's culture. But Abraham has history with
God. He knows him intimately. Abraham knows Yahweh has no
need of the flesh and blood of children, a notion affirmed
throughout the history of Israel (see Lev. 20:2-5; Jer.
7:31; 19:5; 32:35). Yahweh is the God of the promise. He is
the provider. He is the God who lavishes his love on his
creation. He is the living God. The Lord of life! Abraham
knew that life would burst regardless of what would
eventually come out of this ordeal. This is the real
significance of this story and it also incidentally what the
author of Hebrews underlines in chapter 11.
Abraham unflinchingly prepares the sacrifice, because in
the end he knows life will prevail. And if life does not
prevail, then it can only mean that he has been deceived.
And if that is the case, then life is not worth living
anyway. And here is the heart of the matter. While this
story is certainly about Abraham's faith, it is not only
Abraham's faith. It is about Abraham's faith in GOD. This
text is first and foremost about God, not Abraham. And this
God is not Baal. Baalism represents a system of bondage,
manipulation, terror, and fear. In the end, Baal always
demands human flesh and blood. Nothing else will do. Idols,
regardless of the name we attribute to them, require all and
give nothing in return. Baal is death! In Genesis 22,
however, Abraham is vindicated. When the angel of the Lord
urgently intervened to stop Abraham, it confirmed the true
nature of God's character. The God of Abraham is indeed the
God of life.
Generation after generation, Baal rises anew, but we
never quite recognize him; he comes in many shapes and
forms. We know, of course, that there is no Baal. Baal is an
illusion, a cover for the ideologies of dehumanisation and
exploitation human societies constantly recreate. In a way,
Baalism and the system it represents is what the apostle
John calls the "World." Like Baal, the "World" is also
hungry and thirsty. It demands our all but gives nothing in
return. At best, it will claim our flesh and blood. At
worst, it will snatch our souls. The Nazis sacrificed
millions of lives to feed ideological gods who hunger was
insatiable. Millions of people around the world and
throughout history have been enslaved to serve ideological
imperatives.
In Canada, "Baal" is also well fed. According to
Statistics Canada, over two million abortions were performed
between 1970 and 1998. And there was a compelling reason for
every single one of these abortions: money, career,
convenience, despair... In the end, each life was discarded
because the "System" demanded it. A little while ago, a
couple in China was ordered to kill their youngest child,
because they were over their quota. The couple refused. The
bureaucrats forcibly seized the baby and immediately drowned
it before their eyes. These officials knew it had to be that
way. The "System" required it: This baby had to die so that
others may live. The lie goes on and "Baal" keeps on
living... over there and over here.
A French psychoanalyst, Tony Anatrella, wrote in his
book, Non à la société depressive (1997), that only a
deeply sick society can consider such phenomena as abortion,
divorce, homosexuality, sexual promiscuity, substance
addiction, and teenage suicide as unavoidable. For
Anatrella, it speaks of a society in depression. But beyond
the mere observation, Anatrella offers a startling
explanation. He links the chronic state of depression in
which we seem to be locked to the rejection of the
Judeo-Christian God. In an interview for the French magazine
Paris Match, he noted: "In their desire to free
themselves from God, our societies have often produced
hopeless and alienating ideologies, which implode one after
the other."
The Bible ultimately addresses one fundamental issue: Who
will we serve? Will we serve God or Baal? Will we choose
life or death? Abraham abandoned himself to the care and
love of the God he knew. He chose God and found life.
Genesis 22 is a witness to Abraham's unconditional
commitment to what he knew to be true.
The notion that God is loving and trustworthy represents,
I believe, the single most difficult concept for humans to
accept. From the very beginning in the garden, and
throughout human history, God has tirelessly and in various
ways sought to reveal himself. In the end, the Son came and
showed God as he truly was, and the Son was murdered. We
have been told that subjects must die for their King. But
now, we know the truth. And that is the Good News. The King
died for his people, and rose again that life might swallow
all.
Genesis 22 is the story of a man who had come to an
intimate knowledge of God and his unswerving commitment to
act confidently on that basis. This is biblical faith. It is
also this attitude the prophet Habakkuk reflects in the
closing verses of his book:
17 Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no
grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the
fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the
pen and no cattle in the stalls, 18 yet I will rejoice
in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior (Hab.
3:17-18).
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