Scripture Introduction

Genesis 22:1-18

Today’s Old Testament lesson from Genesis is one that makes us squirm a bit.  I can recall as a very young child wondering if I would have the courage to face slaughter if my own father received such a command from God.   As a young father, I was pretty sure I would have failed Abraham’s test.  We were nearly petrified of accidentally causing harm to this precious new life.  Purposefully causing harm would have been beyond possibility.  Preparing a sermon has held a few challenges as well.

Some of our discomfort, I think, comes from trying to interpret this story through our own cultural lenses where child sacrifice could only happen as the consequence of severe mental disturbance, or if you’re writing a movie script, perhaps Satanic cults or wartime villians but not the worship of our God.  The cultures in Abraham’s age did not share that view.  Although they keenly felt the sacrifice, they could view it as honoring their gods, honoring the father and honoring the child.  It may not have brought to them the soul-crushing revulsion that it brings to us today.

And, as with all Bible study, we also need to dig a bit into the translations of ancient Hebrew.  Robert Alter, in his book, The Five Books of Moses[1] offers a translation that, though not far from our New Revised Standard translation, gives more insights.  In verse two, for instance, he returns to the original Hebrew order as YHWH identifies who is to be sacrificed:  “Your son. Your only one.  whom you love. Isaac.”

An 11^th century Midrash[2] , an ancient form of Jewish scriptural interpretation, turns this verse into a conversation that highlights the relationship of Abraham and Isaac:  “Take your son”

            “I have two sons”

            “Your only son”

            “Each is the only son of his mother”

            “The one whom you love”

            “I love both my sons”

            “Isaac”

We need to have a care, of course, with inventing dialog;  such inventions can illustrate our wonderings, but because they are OUR wonderings, they must fall short of complete revelation. 

Alternate translations of scripture, however, can help us as we try to peel back the centuries and cultures that separate us from these stories.  The New Revised Standard Version, the biblical translation we use for worship, was compiled by a group of scholars and so reflects their collected and refined judgments.  I prefer using the NRSV and go there first for study, but often read other versions to get a feel for the breadth of possible translations.  I remember with some fondness one Sunday when Rabbi Joseph Klein supplied our pulpit.  When he read from scripture, he introduced the passage by saying:  “I will be reading from Genesis 19:29-38, My Translation.”  The New Revised Standard Version is printed in your bulletins, and I invite you to read along there as I read the translation of a single scholar, Robert Alter.  I’m not, by the way, declaring this better than other translations, merely different, and because of that difference, illustrative: 

Sermon:  Here I Am

            Alan Harder, CLP

June 29, 2008

Central Presbyterian Church

Have you found yourself, as the Midrash did, inventing additional detail for this story?  Maybe wondering whether Isaac was wise to God’s command and a willing sacrifice, or naïve until after he had been bound up?  Wondering if Abraham already knew God would let him off the hook?  Wondering what conversation Abraham and Isaac might have had after the binding and lifting but before the cleaver? Speculating about whether Abraham, at something over 100 years of age, could have overpowered Isaac who by now was old enough and strong enough to carry the wood?  Perhaps puzzled by why Abraham needed to be tested again—he’d already passed many tests of his faithfulness? 

If you have longed for more detail, you’re certainly not alone.  These are ancient puzzlements, and have been on the minds of Jews and Christians from antiquity, and they endure today.  Was Isaac a willing sacrifice?  Isaac is exalted as a father of the nations, along with Abraham and Jacob, but we know very little of his life and works.  We know of his encounter with Abimelech, curiously parallel to Abraham’s earlier encounter with that friendly Philistine.  We know of the blessing Isaac bestowed on Jacob, led by his fondness for wild game and by deceit--Rebekkah’s  and Jacob’s trickery.  That’s not really much of a moral legacy, is it?  And so ancient theologians went back to what might be distinct and even legendary about Isaac, and they came to the only other story, that of his near sacrifice.  The temptation was to enoble Isaac as a willing collaborator to his own sacrifice.  The first century Jewish historian Josephus in The Antiquities of the Jews [3] transcribed a lengthy dialogue between Abraham and Isaac in which Abraham explained God’s will and Isaac accepted it eagerly, proclaiming it an honor.  4 Maccabees, one of the books of the Apocrypha declares “. . . Isaac would have submitted to being slain for the sake of religion.”  Clement, the 3^rd bishop of Rome, wrote in the first century that Isaac was a willing sacrifice. [4]

The problem, of course, is that Genesis does not say this.  And there’s only the scantest hint that Isaac knew.  There is far more support for the notion that he did not. 

And why did Abraham need to be tested?  Did God not know by now that his faith was solid?  Did God not know what the outcome would  be?  Why subject Abraham and Isaac to such trauma?  James Kugel, in his book The Bible As It Was[5]  offers one possible explanation stemming from what is usually translated as “Now I know.”  “Now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son . . .”  The phrase translated as “Now I know,” can also be translated:  “Now I have made it known.”   With that translation, the meaning changes radically.  “Now I know” means that God did not know until that moment.  “Now I have made it known” means rather that God intended the proof to be known outside of God and Abraham.  Known to whom?  It’s easy to find parallels to Job’s trials, and for the proof to be shown to Satan.  It’s clear the proof of Abraham’s faith reached Paul, and us.  But again, we’re  answering OUR wonderings with OUR speculations, not with scripture.  And I haven’t even scratched the surface of all the wonderings that flow from this passage.

Hineni. Here I Am.  Hineni. The same Hebrew word is used all three times that Abraham speaks it.  “Abraham,” calls God.  “Hineni. Here I Am.”  “Father?” calls Isaac.  “Hineni.  Here I Am, my son.”  “Abraham! Abraham!”  called the Lord’s messenger as the knife closes on its fatal course. “Hineni.  Here I Am.”  That phrase and one other stood out each time I read this passage.  In fact, they really wouldn’t leave me alone.

In my second grade class in Alcoa, Tennessee, we took afternoon naps.  We each had small woven throw rugs, and when the teacher told us to, we rolled them out beside our desks to take a short nap.  Very often, Miss Buttrill was more ready for us to have a nap than we were to take one, and just as often we had a little more talking to do before quieting down. One afternoon Miss Buttrill said (again) “Everyone quiet down!” And then she added, “The next one to make a peep is going to get a paddling.”  Even then I couldn’t resist a good straight line.  I said, as anonymously as possible: “PEEP!”  It was a poor choice.  When she demanded to know who said that I did not say out loud “Here I Am” but I did raise my hand—kind  of an enacted “Here I Am.” The paddling (the only one I ever got, thank you) wasn’t severe.  Frankly I think she was putting so much effort into suppressing laughter that she couldn’t manage much of a swing. I didn’t lay off the straight lines, but I did try to work on the timing a little.

Here I Am.  What a wide range of emotions we can have as we speak those words.  “And the winner of the 50/50 drawing is____”  Here I am! Here I am!

Would the owner of a gold Chevy Prizm please move your car?  You’ve blocked in the Chief of Police.  Umm, Here I am.  Our enthusiasm for saying those words hinges on our expectation of what’s likely to happen next.  And if our expectations are grim, we might not say those words at all.

We can easily imagine Abraham had 3 distinctly different emotions as he spoke those words.  Was he apprehensive at God’s initial call?  Joyous? Curious? We don’t have much to go on for that one.  In answering Isaac? It’s easy to imagine a troubled spirit as he continues to hide God’s commands from his son.  In stopping the knife at the messenger’s call?  Can we even begin to know the flood of emotions as the execution is stayed.  

The other thing caught my attention in this passage was in Abraham’s answer to Isaac’s question.  “God will provide himself the Lamb for the burnt offering.”  God will provide.  Abraham has learned well that God will provide in ways his human imagination can’t predict.  Even if he doesn’t suspect that the offering will not be Isaac, his faith in God’s providence leads him on.  You may recall that in Robert Alter’s translation, Abraham says it a little differently:  “God will see to the sheep for the offering, my son.”[6]  Alter explains that the literal translation would be “see for himself” but that the idiomatic force would move toward “see to it” or “provide.”  And God did. 

Wouldn’t that certainty affect how Abraham could say: “Here I am?”  And wouldn’t it empower us?  Allow us to say “Here I Am” when we’d rather hide?

“I have little idea what is next, and the possibilities are frightening, Lord, but Here I am, confident that you will provide, and that it will be good.”

But when does God call us?  How do we know?

Perhaps when our talents meet the community’s needs?  Perhaps when we recognize a need, but shy away because it’s inconvenient, or difficult, or distasteful.  Those, in fact, are perhaps the surest sign of a call.  Not when we have the time and inclination, but when we don’t.

I spent some time over the last couple of weeks talking with and listening to volunteers from Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, Operation Blessing, the Red Cross, Salvation Army and Terre Haute Ministries.  I visited two Red Cross emergency operations centers and drove through devastated neighborhoods.  It was impressive and eye-opening.  Operation Blessing has been in the paper and on TV for having brought in crews and equipment to help flood victims muck out their houses.  It was dirty work.  It was hot.  It was smelly.  It was the kind of thing that it would be easy to find an excuse not to do, but the people who did it said they wouldn’t trade the experience for the world.  What makes sweating in muck-filled houses a joy?  God saw to it.  Householders felt the hands-on touch of God’s providence as volunteers worked without charge to give householders what they couldn’t afford.  Volunteers were invariably touched and rewarded by both the recognition of their progress and by the gratitude of the people they served. 

We have had the first preliminary meeting with Terre Haute Ministries, the new ecumenical community ministry group Lant has spoken of.  There is enthusiasm for adopting long-term recovery efforts as a part of this groups’ community ministry.  Organizing such an effort will be daunting.  We have read through a 100-page guide book that outlines all the things we will need to worry about and they are significant.  We are not yet certain exactly what the next steps will be, but those around the table responded with the confidence of God’s providence:  Here I Am.

We won’t be able to go far without the support of community congregations, including Central.  There will be opportunity, I’m certain of it, to say: Here I Am as this unfolds. 

What about Abraham and Isaac.  Can we answer the many questions raised over the ages about this unsettling story?  Not with certainty.  But we can take some lessons from it that are even more immediate than Paul’s assurance to the Romans that through Abraham’s faithfulness, God’s covenant was available to all, not just the Jews.  If God is calling us to a task, God will see to it that we find our way to what we need.  God, unlike the gods of Abraham’s neighbors, did not require children as sacrifices, and as Israel developed, it abhorred the practice,  And finally, when God calls us, the only right answer is:  Hineni,  Here I Am.

Amen