Holy Discernment

Psalm 13     Genesis 22:1-14

Season of Pentecost   June 29, 2008

            This scripture has got to be the most difficult one to deal with in all of biblical literature.  We are told that in discerning the voice of God, the most important thing to look for is that what is being asked of us does not go against the core values we have been taught, that it is in keeping with the ethical teachings of our faith tradition.  This scripture brings us a story that is way out of line with any sort of realistic biblical ethics.  It goes against all that we know about compassion and a loving God.  What do we do with a God who would ask of a father such a terrible sacrifice?  And even if God intended all along that it be just a test, what a horrifying test it was; certainly not something a benevolent God would require of the faithful.  In trying to understand what was happening here, the best explanation I can come up with is that this story reflects the beliefs and rather limited understandings of the people who wrote it much more than it does the actions of God. 

            I am always horrified when someone confides that they believe God is testing them by putting them through difficulties in their lives.  This just doesn't fit with my understanding of God.  Maybe it doesn't fit with how I need to see God because a God who will test people is not the kind of God I serve.  Back in seminary we often got into heated discussions about whether God causes suffering or not.  Some folks felt that God had a right to do whatever he/she deemed necessary in dealing with people.  If it took suffering for someone to finally get religion, then they said it was totally appropriate for God to inflict some suffering on that person.  The Muslim tradition, for example, is built on the understanding that we are here on earth in order to be tested by God, and so Islamic scholars claim that this story is not out of keeping with God's ethics at all.  Everything is fair when it comes to testing humans to see if they can measure up to God's requirements of faithfulness.

But I come down on the other side of this argument for several reasons.  First of all, free will is an important aspect of faith in my book.  If we don't have free will, then religion and faith mean next to nothing.  So, if God chose to use suffering in order to bring more people into the fold of faith, then God was actually working against the nature of what true faith is.  As a teenager I was once invited to a showing of several films that depicted the "end times."  The films attempted to frighten the viewers into becoming Christians.  But what kind of a Christian are you if you are there out of fear?  Isn't love a far more powerful motivator?  And if not more powerful, then at least more honest?  A good, strong faith is built on love and compassion.  Faith that is built on fear does not last and it does not go far beneath the surface.  Faith built on fear does not touch the heart and the heart is the primary sense organ when it comes to taking in the wonders of God.   Back then in seminary and today as well, I see God as one who undergoes suffering just as we humans do.  When Jesus was so roundly rejected by the people of his time, and especially by the religious leaders, the theology that made sense to me was one that claimed God suffered from this rejection.  It makes sense that God would suffer with us when our lives encounter difficult turns.  Likewise, God grieves with us when we experience loss.  God hurts with us when we feel pain. 

Certainly as we go through difficulties, we do often grow in faith.  God uses those opportunities to come closer to us and slip an arm around our shoulder, offering some support.  Growing in faith is a side effect of moving through a dark night of the soul, yes, but I do not believe that a compassionate God would actually throw us out into the dark night intentionally.  This is why I find it so difficult to stomach the reading we had this morning where Abraham is told to take his long-awaited son, named Isaac which means "Laughter" you might recall, and offer him as a sacrifice to God.  This makes no sense in any kind of world-view of which I want to be a part.  Even reading it today, as we do, with the benefit of knowing the end of the story, it is difficult to see the teaching value of such a passage.  If anything the passage seems to support those parents who would abuse their children out of some false sense of authority. 

There are, in fact parents who have used just this scripture to assert that they have the right to beat their child if God tells them to do so, perhaps as a way of dealing with teenage rebellion and other issues.  This is just plain scary. 

Some scholars say that, on the contrary, this scripture actually denotes the transition of the culture from one in which human sacrifice was the norm to a culture of animal sacrifice.  They claim that Abraham was only doing what was normal and appropriate at the time, and so it was not as outrageous an act as we might think it was.  I can't imagine what happened between Isaac and his Dad after this particular event.  In the biblical account, we read that Abraham returned home alone.  The assumption is that Isaac does not accompany him.  In fact the next time we see any mention of Isaac it is when he has returned home to bury Abraham when Abraham died.  Sarah, we learn, dies soon after Abraham returns home from the thwarted sacrifice.  Some scholars wonder aloud whether Sarah's death was precipitated by Abraham's willingness to sacrifice their son.  Others, if she died of grief when Isaac did not return home with his father.  In either case, we can see that there was incredible, painful fallout from Abraham's sojourn on that fateful mountain.

Modern sensibilities lead us to ask ourselves, how did Isaac deal with the fact that his father would have sacrificed him if God had asked that?  What kind of relationship could they possibly have had after this ominous day on the mountain?  Is this why Isaac disappears from the story at this point?  Is there no more attachment between them?  Truthfully, I can't imagine them walking down the mountain all chummy-chummy, laughing about the close call.  What happens to a child when he realizes that he cannot trust his father for his safety and his well-being?  Was theirs such a different culture from our own that these questions aren't even legitimate? 

Even if it didn't raise questions way back in the early days of Hebrew history, this passage certainly raises questions for us today.  It raises questions about the kind of God Abraham was in relationship with.  It raises questions what we might be willing to do in God's name, and where our priorities lie as well with regard to our relationship with God and with our families.  Rabbi Burton Visotzky says that when he reads this passage it makes him reflect on his relationship with his own children.  He says, "It's not fun for my kids to be 'preachers kids.'  It puts difficult burdens on them.  In some ways, the Abraham – Isaac  story exemplifies this situation.  My personal relationship with God – my career path with God, if you will – makes demands on my family that may be very unreasonable."  What remains true for each of us, is that it is up to us to determine just where we are willing to go in our relationship with God.  What do we do when that relationship and its demands call forth from us more than we feel okay about giving?  How do we determine what is enough, what is appropriate, even what is ethical?  It makes me nervous when someone declares that God has spoken to them.  It makes me even more nervous when they claim God has told them to do something that goes beyond the bounds of morality or ethics.  I do believe that God speaks to us, even today, but our ability to really hear, really listen is very difficult to cultivate.  Ultimately we are each responsible for listening as best we can, discerning what is true and what is false.  And our best measurement for all of this continues to be values such as compassion, ethics and love.