Saturday, August 28, 2021

Some Thoughts on Isaac

1 And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am.

2 And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.

3 And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him.

4 Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off.

5 And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you.

6 And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together.

7 And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?

8 And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together.

9 And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood.

10 And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son.

11 And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I.

12 And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me.

13 And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son.

14 And Abraham called the name of that place Jehovah-jireh: as it is said to this day, In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen. (Genesis 22)

This story has popped into my head a lot the past few days. I’ve spent many hours pondering it.

People talk about the “Abrahamic sacrifice” and how we, in order to enjoy the blessings of Abraham, are required to make a similar sacrifice. And, in the past, I have spent plenty of time contemplating what it might have been like for Abraham to have been asked to sacrifice his son. Less so what it might have been like for Isaac, though I have thought about the obvious similarities between Isaac and Christ.

Because we speak of an “Abrahamic sacrifice,” it is natural for us to project ourselves into the role of Abraham—the person making the sacrifice. But Abraham’s role is, obviously, one of “father.” Isaac’s role is, obviously, that of a “son.” And we know that you don’t become a father without first being a son, so I have been thinking about this story from Isaac’s perspective, comparing it to my own recent life experiences, and gaining much understanding in the process.

I don’t wish to diminish the benefit of imagining ourselves as Abraham—binding up something we love and sacrificing it in obedience and submission to God. We are to love God above all else, and there is a lot we can learn from Abraham’s devoted and obedient example. However, I have realized that there is much to be gained in pondering what Isaac’s experience might have been like.

Scripture does not reveal how old Isaac was when this story takes place. Regardless of his age, it is obvious that he (1) has complete trust in his father and (2) doesn’t reach an early conclusion that he is to be his father’s sacrifice.

How unknowing and innocent Isaac was in his travels to Moriah! Leading up to this experience, he doesn’t imagine that Abraham has it in his heart to sacrifice him. It was probably near impossible for Isaac to imagine Abraham contemplating anything that might potentially harm him. Knowing how long Abraham desired a son—a righteous son—through Sarah, one can expect that he was nothing but a loving, righteous father. Abraham’s quick and exact obedience to God’s command serves only to communicate to us how much he loved God more than he loved Isaac. Isaac undoubtedly loved and obviously trusted him in return. He had no reason to disbelieve Abraham when he said, “God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering” and never suspects that it was him who had already been provided.

The scripture jumps from Abraham telling Isaac that God would provide a lamb to Abraham’s dutiful chores leading up to the expected sacrifice. We don’t know what, if anything else, was said between the two. Perhaps it was possible for Abraham to communicate his intention to Isaac with a simple expression. Or, perhaps, a gesture. Or, perhaps, just his silence.

One wonders (or doesn’t) what it must have been like for Isaac to finally realize that he was to be the lamb. What do you think Isaac might have thought as the reality of the situation dawned on him? How do you think he felt? Betrayed? Confused? Incredulous? Unloved? I suspect that he might have been tempted to feel all of these things, but I also suspect that he had felt enough love from his father before this experience to not entertain those feelings for very long. We aren’t told how much time passed between Isaac’s realization that he was to be the sacrifice and the actual sacrifice itself. Moments? Minutes? Hours, perhaps? Perhaps it didn’t take long and he helped his father ready what was needed, or perhaps he needed just a moment to contemplate what was about to take place. At some point, however, I am sure that Isaac made a conscious decision to resolve and to commit himself to being sacrificed—to let all of the unknowns be put away from his mind and to have only a steadfast trust in his father remain.

This has been, is, and ever will be the experience of a righteous “son” (or daughter, for that matter): to consent to be led by your Father to (and through) any and all experiences, sparing nothing—not even your own life.