Deplorable, despicable, and dastardly

Text: Genesis 22:1-14

I love Genesis. I find the first stories of our community so powerful. Reading the creation story, Noah, the tower of Babel, the journey of Abram and Sarai. I love these stories.

But not this one.

This one I hate. I hate in the same way that I love the others: in that purely emotional way. In that way that you reserve for things that confuse, irritate, and appall you. This story I despise.

This story is Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son, Isaac. It is the story in which we get exposition describing Abraham, leading his son up the mountain. Imagine that he’s telling him “Son, we’re going for a walk. Not just any walk, but a big adventure! We’re going to search for a temple full of gold!” while knowing what is really going to happen. Then when they get to the top, Abraham builds an altar and straps his son to it, all the while saying something akin to “Son, we’re only taking a break. The temple of gold is right around the corner.” Abraham grabs the giant knife, takes it behind his head and…he’s stopped by an angel. The scene is chilling—and seems straight out of a movie. But we are supposed to be grateful that God provides. We are to be thankful that God spared Isaac. We are taught to have that same devotion as Abraham’s—whatever that really means. But I don’t want that. I don’t want to be prepared to do such an obscene and abhorrent (and aberrant?) thing as to murder my own child. I refuse to do that.

If you take this story at face value, it is as small and petty as they come. In showing God as demanding the unthinkable (unspeakable?) from Abraham, it makes God into an abusive and emotionally stunted father, beating his favorite child. Read literally, this depiction of God is completely unlovable.

But as we see in the stories that surround it (Cain, Noah, Lot, etc.), and look at the ‘meta-narrative,’ we get a different view of God: a God that learns and loves as we do. God bargains with Lot and makes promises to humanity in the form of covenants. God endeavors to think, trust, argue, despair. We learn that God isn’t perfect if it means an absence of emotions. God isn’t perfect if it implies distance and cold analytical skills. What would it mean to simply say “God isn’t perfect”?

In our postmodern world, it is hard to read this story as its first hearers would have understood it. We think that there are certain things that are out of bounds—they depict poor taste, or are “cheap and tawdry”. But we often use extreme notions and hyperbole to approximate the intensity of our points [if you don’t believe me, watch Fox News and see who gets compared to Hitler and what government program gets described as “socialist”]. To say that our devotion to God must approximate willingness to murder just seems out of bounds today. In fact, it is just such an example that supports abuse and the worst of our evils.

For the intended audience, the story isn’t about Abraham or Isaac, but God. It is about how God loves, what God expects, and how small we are next to God.

What do you struggle with? What matters of faith drive you crazy? What keeps you from “getting” a piece of scripture?

Take some time to imagine what it means if God is a little bit jealous and a little bit weird. Does this change your feelings toward God? Does it worry you? Or does it comfort you?