"MURDER YOUR CHILD"

Two weeks ago, I stood on this spot and spoke to you concerning a narrative from Genesis about Abraham. Today, our first reading is also from Genesis and the story of Abraham continues.

Abraham's Test

The text is well known. It is, no doubt, one of the most famous narratives in Scripture - a compelling story, finely crafted, unsettling perhaps, but quite unforgettable. Our tradition places this account on a "pedestal" of sorts. It is the great story of biblical faith - the story of one man's radical confidence and trust in God, of one man's radical obedience to God.

It is, fundamentally, the story of a test. God asks Abraham to sacrifice his child - his long-awaited son and heir. God asks Abraham to sacrifice his hope, and his joy - his future, and the future of a nation. One scholar describes Abraham's test in these words: "Will [Abraham] trust and obey the giver or only adore the gift?" (Bresee Hinners) The answer is obvious: Abraham passes God's test because Abraham trusts and obeys. He is prepared to forsake the beloved gift, and to slay his own son. And he is rewarded for his obedience. At the last possible moment, an angel intervenes. God provides Abraham with a substitute sacrifice, and the child is spared.

The meaning of today's text seems clear, its interpretation straightforward. Abraham passes God's test because Abraham says "yes."

"Yes, God, I will murder my child. Yes, God, I will murder my hope. Yes, God, I will murder my joy."

Just Say "No."

It's obvious, I think, that - for some of us - this "clear" interpretation of the text is in fact opaque. It is turbid, or muddy. The story does portray a supreme act of faith, but it is not wholly satisfactory. Indeed - for some of us - it's quite unsatisfactory. We are left with the image of a child, the image of abject fear in the face of certain death. We are left with the image of abuse - hideous, abhorrent child abuse - which is wholly unacceptable, and which makes us sick.

And we are left with questions. The pre-eminent question for me is simple: Why didn't Abraham "just say no." "No, God, I will not do it. Slay me if you must, but I will not do it." As is normally the case, this simple question leads to more complex questions. For example: when, if ever, is it "right" to say no to God?

If we ponder this last question, we will soon discover that - in one sense - we say no to God quite frequently. We certainly say no to what others might believe is the perfect will of God, God's own voice as revealed to us in Scripture.

• From this perspective, I say no to God every time I speak in this sanctuary, or fail to wear a hat to church.



• From this perspective, I say no to God every time I insist that it's an abomination to treat others as property.



• From this perspective, I say no to God every time I suggest that one's sexual orientation is a gift of God - to be honored, and "lived" with profound integrity.

I address these issues not because I wish to be controversial. Nor do I wish to demean, or in any way diminish, the important message of today's first reading concerning faith. Rather, I address these issues to say something about Scripture, and our interpretation of Scripture.

I believe that Scripture is holy, and "alive" - alive with a plurality, or multiplicity, of meanings. For me, the biblical texts are comprised of many layers, and we sell ourselves short if we spend our lives solely on the surface. It's not that the literal, or surface, meaning can be lightly dismissed. But, rather, that the text must be mined completely - that we must dig very deeply to probe its depths, and discover its immeasurable worth. To this end, we must summon the Spirit to inspire "the thoughts of our hearts and minds," and to fire our imaginations. As I noted last time, we must also consider culture, language, and context as we seek to discern the meaning of a given text.

Where Was Sarah?

There is, of course, nothing new in this approach. In fact, it's very old indeed. An ancient, Jewish form of exegesis - named "midrash" - captures what I have tried to express. The word midrash comes from the Hebrew root meaning "to seek out," or "to investigate."

Listen to the words of one Jewish scholar Rabbi Donna Berman, as she describes midrash. "Midrash assumes that the black letters of scripture as well as the white spaces between them are holy; that the explicitly stated as well as that which can be inferred from the Bible can be manifestations of God's word."

And, further, Berman writes: "It is important to remember that within the realm of midrash there is no single truth; the text and life itself are seen as a prism of truths, many different colors converging in those white spaces...."

Another Jewish scholar points out that midrash may be found in the Bible itself - in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament. (Rabbi Burton Visotzky) For example, the first chapter of John's gospel is thought to be a midrash on the first chapter of Genesis. Similarly, Hebrews may be seen as a midrash on the Exodus story.

One important function of midrash is to respond to apparent omissions in biblical texts - those things which are left out, but about which we have innumerable questions. One such question arises from today's text (and carries a certain echo from my remarks last time). "Where was Sarah while Abraham was taking Isaac to [the mountains] to sacrifice him?" (Rabbi Donna Berman)

Yesterday, I received an email from Gordon. The email, and subsequent conversation, was completely unexpected. Gordon wanted me to see a midrash that he had received from a professor at Oxford. It was a midrash on our first reading for today, and (unbeknownst to Gordon) provided one possible answer to my question about Sarah. Marion McNaughton, a Quaker and peace activist, composed this midrash. I would like to conclude my remarks by reading it to you. I would commend it to your own study and reflection on our text today from Genesis.

"And with a heavy heart Abraham went to his wife Sarah and said, 'God has told me to take our son Isaac, whom we love, and sacrifice him as a burnt offering.'

And Sarah said, "A shrewd move. This God is no fool. This is Her way of testing you. What did you say to Her? And Abraham replied, 'I said nothing. I want God to know I will obey Him without question. I will do as He commands.'

And Sarah threw up her hands in despair and said, 'Abraham you are...bone-headed. What kind of God do you think you are dealing with? What kind of God would want you to kill your own son to prove how religious you are? Don't be so stupid! She's trying to teach you something; that you must challenge even the highest authority on questions of right and wrong. Argue with Her, wrestle with Her!' But Sarah's words smacked to Abraham as blasphemy, and he went into the mountains with his son, Isaac.

And Sarah said to God, 'Sister, you are playing with fire. He is too stupid to understand what you are up to. He won't listen to me and he won't challenge you; if you don't stop him, he will kill our precious son. Is that what you want?' And God said, 'Sarah, they have a long journey to the mountains; I'm hoping one of them will see sense.' And Sarah said, 'Like father, like son. You'll have to send an angel.'

And it came to pass as Sarah foretold, and the angel of the Lord spoke to Abraham the first time and told him not to kill his son. And Abraham sacrificed a ram as a burnt offering. And the angel of the Lord spoke to Abraham a second time and told him his offspring would be as numerous as [the] stars in the heaven and would possess the gates of their enemies.

And the angel of the Lord spoke to Abraham a third time and said, 'Because you were ready to kill your own son in the name of your God, you will be known as a great patriarch and millions will follow your example. And they will believe that He is indeed a jealous and a demanding God, and they will willingly sacrifice their sons in His name and to His glory. And there will be bloodshed and slaughter in all the corners of the earth.'

And Abraham returned to his wife, Sarah, and said, 'God is well-pleased with me for I am to be a mighty patriarch.' And Sarah said nothing. But she took the garments of Abraham and Isaac that were stained with the blood of the ram, and she carried them to the river to be washed. And the river ran red with the blood of generations to come, and Sarah wept bitterly.

And God came to Sarah at the water's edge and said, 'My sister, Sarah, do not weep. You were right, it will take time. Meanwhile hold firm to what you know of me and speak it boldly. I am as you know me to be. Many generations will pass and a new understanding will come to the children of Abraham, but before then I shall be misheard and misrepresented, except by a few. You must keep the truth alive.

And Sarah dried her eyes and said, 'As if I didn't have enough to do.'"