Sacrifice and Providence
John Wilkinson Third
Presbyterian Church March 7, 2004
Genesis 22:1-19
(Preached in conjunction with a presentation of Benjamin Britten’s
“Abraham and Isaac” by Robert and Matthew Swensen)
Perhaps no biblical story is freighted with as much conflict
and difficulty as this one. It has traveled with controversy
even unto this moment. In the 1500s, traveling troupes of actors
would perform biblical stories for the people until the authorities
halted such things. Some 500 years later, Benjamin Britten set
this text, one of the Chester miracle, or mystery, plays, to
tune.
Some 20 years following that, sculptor George Segal responded
to a commission by creating the artwork depicted on the bulletin
cover. May 4, 1970 is a day many of you will remember, but the
authorities at Kent State University deemed Segal’s work
too provocative, so it resides now at the Princeton University
Chapel. It has been the subject of vandalism on the Princeton
campus. Perhaps these authority figures were onto something.
The subject, in any case and whatever case, was faith. In preparation
for his effort, Segal had read Soren Kierkegaard’s famous
Fear and Trembling, from the 1800s, which enters Abraham’s
psyche and explores every machination possible to avoid what
God asks. The sculptor focuses on Abraham’s dilemma, as,
perhaps, do we.
The Bible invites us to enter the character’s hearts
and minds, does it not, and yet here we are not so sure what
to do with what we encounter. What kind of God would ask for
such a sacrifice, and what kind of father, parent, would agree
to do it?
There will be no clear answers even this morning, but perhaps
an encounter with this ancient story might deepen our faith
just a bit. Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling is a good
place to linger for a moment. Kierkegaard writes of the absurdity
of faith, hovering between the finite and the infinite, like
a dancer who has made the perfect leap and for a moment hangs
in the air before returning to earth.
We live somewhere in that balance, he suggests, when we seek
to know with certainty and then launch that certainty into the
air. His phrase is “infinite resignation.” He speaks
of paradox, a word that drives us to annoyance. We want clarity,
simple, cut and dry answers. Yet even we know that such clarity
cannot exist.
Abraham and Isaac present such a moment, when the father’s
love for his son exceeds his love of self, yet when his love
of God does the same thing. Everything is suspended in that
moment.
We never ourselves would face such a trial. Kierkegaard muses
that he appreciates Abraham as much as he is appalled by him.
Perhaps that is where we are.
Though I have not yet seen the movie (“The Passion of
the Christ”), surely those same themes are at play –
denial and sacrifice, submitting to the divine will in the face
of every human protestation.
In less philosophically lofty language but no less profound,
Walter Brueggemann suggests that it is not until this story
that we see how serious faith is. (Interpretation Commentary,
pages 185 and ff)
And how anguished. The intent of the story is not clear, Brueggemann
says, so its meaning is left to the interpreter. Us, namely.
And we are not certain what to do.
What do we learn of God, who requests the sacrifice of a beloved
son and who, at the last minute, provides a substitute sacrifice?
Brueggemann insists that the pivot point happens at verse 8
of Genesis 22: even as Abraham is leading his son to this horrible
thing, he insists that God will provide a lamb for the slaughter.
Perhaps, as Brueggemann suggests, we learn a considerable amount
about each of the dramatic personalities – simply put
like this: God will provide. Abraham trusts.
Abraham’s radical obedience cannot be avoided, nor can
its implications be ignored as we enter more deeply this Lenten
rhythm, whereby God’s very beloved, love incarnate, will
be sacrificed.
The “why” of the question will continue to mystify
theologians and perplex the rest of us, but the “what”
of such radical obedience is all too present. Defying explanation,
but not defying exploration about who God is and who we are
in the face of who God is.
God is gracious and faithful. But God is also sovereign and
free. We live in that paradox, the paradox of promise and command.
God provides, but we would have chosen for God’s provision
to happen much prior to the call for sacrifice. And yet mystery
is God’s way, the mystery of God’s “testing
and providing.” (Brueggemann, page 192)
Theologians use feeble words feebly. Perhaps it is better left,
these providential matters, to others to articulate it for us:
the playwright and composer and sculptor.
And all of us – for we do it every day. We place our
lives in the midst of providence, beyond the reasonableness
and rational consistency that we seek.
Perhaps on this Lenten morning, that is our invitation, to
walk more deeply into the mystery, to make a leap of faith into
the paradox of divine proclamation and human response, to trust,
somehow, that God will provide and to journey into that providence
with the promise of resurrection always at the far horizon.
Amen.
