Sermon -- The Rev. Leah D.  Schade
July 27, 2008
Text:  Genesis 22:1-14:  “The Sparing of Isaac”

We’re on our third story in our sermon series on mountains in the bible.  Today we’re on Mt. Moriah with the near-sacrifice of Isaac by his father, Abraham.  Now this mountain’s location, unlike Mt. Ararat (Noah) and Mt. Sinai, is disputed by scholars, Muslim, Jewish and Christian alike.  Some traditions name this mountain as the location on which Solomon’s Temple is eventually built.  Others believe it refers to a mountain in the land of the Amorites. There is even a dubious claim that the mountain refers to the highest peak of the mountainous ridge on which Jerusalem is built, which would be Golgotha, the place where Jesus was crucified.   An interesting and convenient twist for Christians to parallel the Isaac story with the Jesus story, no doubt.  But the truth is, we don’t really know where the near-sacrifice of Isaac took place.  What’s more important, however, is what actually took place on that mountain.

Today’s story has all the drama of a Hollywood movie.  There is no greater cliff-hanger than the image of Abraham’s knife poised above Isaac, just as an angel flies down to stay his hand.  But it is also one of the more disturbing stories in Genesis for one simple reason.  Why would God want to test Abraham by telling him to sacrifice his own son?  What kind of a God is this?  Why would God do such a thing?  Not only that, but why would Abraham so willingly follow this command to kill his own son without questioning?

In order to answer these questions, we need to see that there are several layers to this story.  And in order to understand what this story means for us today, we need to peel away the layers to find the core that lies at the heart of the story.

Let’s begin with Abraham’s response to this strange and cruel command.  He follows God’s dictate without question.  This may seem odd, but remember the pattern of Abraham’s previous responses to God’s commands. The first command God gave to Abraham was for the 100-yr-old man to leave his home, the land of Ur, with his elderly wife, and make a perilous journey across the desert to the promised land.  He believed God’s promise of land, prosperity and children, so he did as God commanded without question.

But in this story, the command seems downright cruel.  Abraham himself must sacrifice his own son.  Why?  Why would God issue such a violent and abhorant edict?  Well, in that day and age, child sacrifice was not unheard of.  It was not unusual for the peoples and cultures of that time to sacrifice their own children in order to appease an angry god, or to stay on the good side of capricious deities.  While it must have broken Abraham’s heart to hear his God make such a demand, he knew from the cultures and religions around him that sometimes this is the price that must be paid in order to secure the favor of God.

So Abraham and Isaac travel three days into the wilderness.  Upon seeing the mountain where he is to perform the deed, Abraham tells his young attendants, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship and then we will come back to you.”  This is a classic moment of irony and ambiguity.  Does Abraham really believe that he and Isaac will return?  Or does he only say this to keep them and his son from knowing the truth?  We’ll never know.  But we can be sure that there must have been a questioning look that passed between the attendants and Isaac.   What’s really going on here?  It feels like something ominous lies ahead.

Abraham and Isaac begin their final walk to the site of sacrifice.  Isaac’s mind must have been racing, the weight on his shoulders nothing compared to the weight in the pit of his stomach.   Finally he asks,  “You know, Dad, I was just thinking.  We’ve got the fire; we’ve got the wood . . . where is the lamb?”

It’s a question that must have gone through the heart of Abraham like the dagger he carried in his hand.  It’s one of the most dramatic moments of irony in the Genesis story.  Abraham’s answer seems evasive, but it also reveals his faith:  “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.”

The double meaning here is significant.  God has indeed provided the one whom Abraham is to sacrifice.  This is the son promised by God to the elderly man and his barren wife.  But these words, “God will provide,” (in Hebrew, YHWH  yir-eh)  are a real statement of faith based on Abraham’s previous experiences with God.   When Abraham set out on that journey to the promised land, God provided him the strength and endurance to survive the trip.  God provided land upon which to settle.  And God provided not just one son, but two.  “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide.”

I would imagine that those were the words Abraham kept repeating to himself over and over as he piled up the stones for the altar, as he lay down the wood for the sacrifice.  “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide.” Perhaps even Isaac began repeating the words like a mantra as his father bound his hands, and he allowed himself to be laid upon the altar, the wood that was on his shoulders now laying under his back.  “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide.”

With tears in his eyes, Abraham grabs the dagger.  He stands over his son, his tears dripping onto Isaac’s face, mingling with the tears of his beloved son.  And he raises his dagger.  One last time, “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide.”

“Abraham -- STOP!  Do not hurt the boy.  I know that you trust me.  I know that you would do whatever your God asks of you -- even if it meant killing your own son.  But let this be a sign unto you -- I do not require child sacrifice.  God does not demand the blood of children.”

And in that instant, Abraham’s eyes are opened, and he sees the ram caught in the thicket.  He unties his son and they embrace.  Then they use those ropes to bind the ram and tie it to the altar.  Now their tears of fear and sorrow are turned to tears of joy and laughter, “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide.”  See?  I told you so -- We’ll even call this place “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide.”

Sometimes we have to be taken right to the edge of death to realize the truth about God.  In this story, we are taken right to the edge of the knife so that the lesson of this story will be indelibly etched in our minds.  Do not sacrifice your children.  Do not engage in deadly violence against your offspring.  Not now, not for all time.  This is not a God who demands us to put our children on the altars of idols and sacrifice them.  This is a God who seeks the preservation of our offspring.   The books of Exodus and Deuteronomy have explicit laws against child sacrifice.  Deuteronomy 18:10:  “No one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire.”

Now this may seem like such an obvious command to us, a no-brainer.  Of course we’re not going to kill our own children.  But in reality, this story needs to be retold again and again. Because it raises a question for our modern society.  In what ways are we threatening the health and well-being of our children on the altars of sacrifice?  Might we, in some ways, be like Abraham, blindly assuming that certain sacrifices are necessary, without questioning the culture around us that has conditioned our behaviors?

We might think that we’ve moved beyond these barbaric practices of child-sacrifice in today’s modern world.  But truth be told, children are sacrificed daily on the altars of the gods of war, commerce, lust and greed.  They are sacrificed on the altar of anger in abusive households.  And in many areas of the world children are valued no higher than chattel.  Kids are cheap – they are recruited for armies, sold into child slavery and brothels, and brainwashed to become the terrorists that carry bombs.  Over and over, children are used for immoral purposes and are treated as property and ammunition.

And our American society, while not so overtly barbaric, is not above the sacrifice of children. I’m speaking of the sacrifice of children on the altar of consumerism and success.  Think of
the ways in which we pile expectations and demands on our children, loading up their schedules with music lessons, sports teams, dance recitals.  All the while having to keep up their grades,  worrying about their status among their peers, and constantly being told by our marketing machine how inadequate they are unless they own the newest clothes, the latest cell phone, the best computer, until they are bowed down like Isaac carrying the wood upon his shoulders up the hill.  Our children are made to carry burdens placed upon them by the adults and the culture around them that are so weighty that they can barely hold them up.

The child is then bound by the ropes of fear that they will fail or disappoint their parents or their coach or their teachers, or fall out of favor with their peers, or not get into a good enough college.  And they are placed upon the altar of sacrifice designed to appease gods with insatiable demands -- the god of consumerism, the gods of power, money and success.  And if you want to talk sacrifice – let’s talk about the suicide rates for young people in this nation.  There were nearly 4000 suicide attempts in 2001, and 132,000 suicide attempts in 2002.  Suicide is the 3^rd leading cause of death among young people, just behind motor vehicle accidents and homicide deaths. 

I realize that there are a myriad of reasons for teen suicide.  It is a very complex issue, and blame cannot be placed on any one person, or set of circumstances.  But perhaps it is time we listen to a different voice.  Perhaps the time has come for us to hear the voice of the one, true God, who is reaching out to stay our hand and keep us from sacrificing our children.  God is trying to show us another way, directing our vision to an alternative we had not previously considered.  What might that alternative be?

Our partnership with the people of Pangani might just provide a different answer.  You know, last week we celebrated our relationship with the people of Tanzania, patting ourselves on the back for the money and support we’ve provided for their children in the form scholarships.  But a partnership implies that there is an equal exchange.  And we don’t often think of what the people of Pangani are offering to us.  So I asked Pastor Smoose about his experiences visiting there, and what we might learn from them. 

He said that in some ways, life is equally demanding on the children of Pangani, but in different ways.  Children have tocarry buckets of water, and firewood, help with the chores, help with the farm and household.  The physical demands of having enough food, crops, and doing all the work of the household by hand would seem exhausting to us.

And yet, when you meet these children, they are so happy.  They have radiant smiles, and are genuinely joyful in their dispositions.  How can they be so happy when they have so little?  What Pastor Smoose learned is that even though they don’t have a lot of things we enjoy, even some of the basics, they have a genuine happiness and satisfaction in life.   They have learned how to be content with what they have.  They are focused on family and faith.  The church is central in their lives.  It gives meaning and identity, and provides great hope for the children that they may receive their education and be able to help their families. 

And what do you think the suicide rate is for Tanzania?  One of the lowest in the world.  Life is so fragile, so precious for them.  They cherish life with every ounce of their being.

Maybe we are looking in the wrong places for what gives meaning to our lives.  Maybe we’re listening to the wrong gods, kow-towing to demands that are unnecessary, unnatural and just plain immoral.  Perhaps the people of Pangani are showing us God’s hand, trying to hold us back from sacrificing our children.  For them, the church is the focal point of their lives, and provides the lens through which every other activity is viewed.  For us, church is just another activity, another competing demand. 

I’m wondering how we can make our congregation a place where people feel so connected to this God that they joyfully cling to the fellowship with the same tenacity as the Tanzanian people, with the same faith as Abraham.  I’m wondering how we can communicate this message – “YHWH y’reh, God will provide,” so that our members and others in our community will cease from running after other gods, and instead come to rest in the loving mercy of a God who seeks to protect those most vulnerable. 

I will tell you that this is what I want for my children – to have a faith like Abraham had.  And I want for my children to have the same love of their Christian community that the children in Pangani have for theirs – to see the church as the glue that helps to hold life together, that brings into focus the other dimensions of life. 

We are standing on Mt. Moriah today.  We are at the altar.  Look around you, look at the culture surrounding you on all sides – is this what you want from life?  Or is there something more?  Listen – God is calling.  “YHWH yir’eh, God will provide. God will provide.”  Amen.