Isaac
Genesis 22:1-2
I recently read Neil Gaiman's "American Gods," a dystopian novel about the gods run amok among us. Mr. Gaiman makes deep use of the Norse pantheon of divinities, who were, by and large, a bloody lot, worshipped most often by blood sacrifice, and a good bit of that, human sacrifice. As the gods run through contemporary America, they find plenty of offering available, even though most folks don't take them seriously, which leads to an existential crisis among the divine set.
We like to think that we have moved well beyond the ancient rites and rituals, the old, old, old story in which blood flowed like rivers and human life was cheap before the gods.
But then that old story pops up in our story.
As we read into the Old Testament, there will come moments of shock and horror when God acts like one of those ancient gods. In Exodus, there is the weird moment when God threatens to kill Moses right there and then if blood is not immediately offered. There are the war stories of Joshua and Judges in which God demands not simply the defeat of Israel's enemies, but their total annihilation--man, woman, child, and beast alike. Even in the New Testament, there is the shocking institution of the Last Supper--"Eat my flesh, drink my blood"--although, we immediately run to the shelter of metaphor. Don't be so hasty--there are ancient whispers in the rite.
For some the shock and horror are simply too much. "See?" they cry. "Religion is human madness elevated to the sacred!" Mr. Gaiman, very subtly in a very good story, voices this complaint.
But how do we travel this road as we pursue faith?
Rabbis have for centuries argued over the sacrifice of Isaac. What was God thinking? What was Abraham thinking?
One of the more profound interpretations was a response to the Holocaust--Isaac's story became the story of all Israel--Israel is sacrificed again and again by the world before God.
As a Christian, there comes the moment when one has to take seriously the reality of the cross. The Apostles' Creed makes it simple, clear, and direct--
"....he suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into hell..."
Christ suffered real and actual pain. Christ bled real and actual blood. Christ suffered real and actual humiliation. Christ suffered rejection. Christ died.
It is brutal.
So what do we do with it? How do we continue to walk within it?
Recognize the reality of suffering in the world. See it. Hear it. Feel it. Isaac is everywhere, everyday. Denying him may make us feel better for a moment, but it does not remove him. He is still there. He is not going anywhere.
Meet him.
This move is Christ. God did not leave us, God met us. God joined with us. As the story unfolds, Isaac is redeemed. Isaac may not have felt very redeemed, but he is. To embody his redemption, someone is going to have to be with him, walk with him, and listen to his very real rants, questions, and rages about his experience.
Christ does that for us, we are to do it for someone else.
We take the ancient and make it present.
Take the story as it is. It is still our story.
Live it.
I recently read Neil Gaiman's "American Gods," a dystopian novel about the gods run amok among us. Mr. Gaiman makes deep use of the Norse pantheon of divinities, who were, by and large, a bloody lot, worshipped most often by blood sacrifice, and a good bit of that, human sacrifice. As the gods run through contemporary America, they find plenty of offering available, even though most folks don't take them seriously, which leads to an existential crisis among the divine set.
We like to think that we have moved well beyond the ancient rites and rituals, the old, old, old story in which blood flowed like rivers and human life was cheap before the gods.
But then that old story pops up in our story.
As we read into the Old Testament, there will come moments of shock and horror when God acts like one of those ancient gods. In Exodus, there is the weird moment when God threatens to kill Moses right there and then if blood is not immediately offered. There are the war stories of Joshua and Judges in which God demands not simply the defeat of Israel's enemies, but their total annihilation--man, woman, child, and beast alike. Even in the New Testament, there is the shocking institution of the Last Supper--"Eat my flesh, drink my blood"--although, we immediately run to the shelter of metaphor. Don't be so hasty--there are ancient whispers in the rite.
For some the shock and horror are simply too much. "See?" they cry. "Religion is human madness elevated to the sacred!" Mr. Gaiman, very subtly in a very good story, voices this complaint.
But how do we travel this road as we pursue faith?
Rabbis have for centuries argued over the sacrifice of Isaac. What was God thinking? What was Abraham thinking?
One of the more profound interpretations was a response to the Holocaust--Isaac's story became the story of all Israel--Israel is sacrificed again and again by the world before God.
As a Christian, there comes the moment when one has to take seriously the reality of the cross. The Apostles' Creed makes it simple, clear, and direct--
"....he suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into hell..."
Christ suffered real and actual pain. Christ bled real and actual blood. Christ suffered real and actual humiliation. Christ suffered rejection. Christ died.
It is brutal.
So what do we do with it? How do we continue to walk within it?
Recognize the reality of suffering in the world. See it. Hear it. Feel it. Isaac is everywhere, everyday. Denying him may make us feel better for a moment, but it does not remove him. He is still there. He is not going anywhere.
Meet him.
This move is Christ. God did not leave us, God met us. God joined with us. As the story unfolds, Isaac is redeemed. Isaac may not have felt very redeemed, but he is. To embody his redemption, someone is going to have to be with him, walk with him, and listen to his very real rants, questions, and rages about his experience.
Christ does that for us, we are to do it for someone else.
We take the ancient and make it present.
Take the story as it is. It is still our story.
Live it.
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