Abraham and Isaac, Pt. 1 — Abe is Tested

I.

Let's be honest, the Old Testament includes more than its fair share of awful/terrible/scary/kinda insane stories … like the one where God tells Abraham to kill his kid (Genesis 22). 

For many modern readers, this classic story is difficult to stomach (or if you need that conclusion softened a bit — difficult to understand). 

But this reaction hasn’t been uniform throughout the story’s history of interpretation.

Somewhat surprisingly, Old Testament scholar, Joseph Blenkinsopp writes, "In the earliest stages of commentary on, or allusion to, the Abraham story, it was not experienced as particularly prominent or problematic" (Abraham, 359).

As we will soon see, that word, "particularly," is doing some heavy lifting, but in general, Blenkinsopp makes an important point. 

We read these stories very differently than their ancient audience(s) did. 

What is traumatizing for us, might not be for them.

To prove the point, take another example.

We are (rightfully) horrified by Israel's "conquest of Canaan" — those stories where Joshua is sent into the promised land and told to kill everything that breathes so that Israel can settle in the land. This sort of overt and divinely inspired violence is virtually unfathomable for most modern readers. We approach the text with a very different conception of the world ... and violence ... and war ... and dispossessing people groups ... and God's apparent approval of all of it, specifically when such stories are viewed through the lens of Jesus's ethic in the New Testament. But within the pages of the Bible, the conquest is not problematized. In fact, various authors in the New Testament seem to approve of Joshua's actions (see Acts 7:45; Hebrews 3–4; Hebrews 11:30–34). 

Our disagreement with the Old and New Testament authors, then, leads to all sorts of fun and important questions of how we, as modern, Western readers, should attempt to make sense of this ancient sacred text.

With regard to God's command to Abraham that he sacrifice his son, we ask, "How could God do this?"

And "What kind of sick test is this?"

And "How could Abe just ... just ... go along with it? What kind of dad is he?!"

I think these are the right questions to ask.

As one of our former presidents noted—I won't tell you which one because people tend to freak out about former presidents—"We all know the story of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham is ordered by God to offer up his only son, and without argument, he takes Isaac to the mountaintop, binds him to an altar, and raises his knife, prepared to act as God has commanded. Of course, in the end God sends down an angel to intercede at the very last minute, and Abraham passes God’s test of devotion. But it’s fair to say that if any of us leaving this church saw Abraham on a roof of a building raising his knife, we would, at the very least, call the police and expect the Department of Children and Family Services to take Isaac away from Abraham."

Obama is spot on. (Oh. Shoot.) Such a command makes no sense whatsoever in our context. Any father who would try something like this, regardless of their conviction of divine initiative, should be imprisoned. Immediately.

But in the ancient world? I'm not so sure this would have been the response.

So here's what I'm suggesting: we should attempt to read the story of Abraham and Isaac in its ancient context ... not to excuse it, not to explain it away, but to understand it. 

To tip my hand a bit, I don't think we will conclude even after our work, "Oh. Ok. Now it makes sense. I guess it wasn't an issue after all. It’s perfectly normal for God to ask Abraham to sacrifice his child." 

This story will still (and maybe forever will) be problematic, but ... maybe ... maybe, if we approach the story from a different standpoint, we will learn a few things.

II.

We won’t get too far in our exploration in this first post. In fact, we’ll just focus on the first line.

The story begins with something of an orienting statement,

“After these things, God tested Abraham.”

God tested Abraham … but why?

Why does God need to test Abraham (or anyone)? 

God knows things, right?

God certainly knows us ... and our character ... and what we would do in a given situation ... and, presumably, how we would handle a test—whether we pass or fail?

We aren't the first to ask this interpretive question.

In fact, there is a super interesting line of thought in ancient Jewish interpretation that suggests the test wasn't for God's benefit at all, it was for the satan. No, no, no, not the guy with red tights and a pitchfork. 

"The satan" (pronounced "sah-tahn").

The satan was an adversary of God's, who, in the world of the Old Testament, was a part of God's heavenly council. 

Don't let your belief in monotheism (the belief in one God) cloud your thinking here. Monotheism was sort of a late development in the Old Testament. At many points in the Old Testament story, God is depicted as dealing with lesser divine beings. Some people call them "divine aides."

Here’s a helpful image of how this worked.

Imagine a big boardroom with God sitting in the president's chair at the head of the majestic mahogany table. All the other “upper level executives” (the divine aides) are at the table, too, and at least one of them, the satan, functions like that one board member whose main job is to be a contrarian. 

"That probably won't work, God."

"I'm not sure about that, God."

"Well, you see, God..."

(You have an image, don't you?!)

This is the same figure who shows up in the book of Job telling God to test Job. (Again, no, it's not "Satan." It's "the satan," the adversary, the contrarian.)

In the story of Job, the satan says to God, who has just been doting on Job for his righteousness, "It's no wonder he's righteous, God, you've given him everything. Test him. Then we'll see what he's made of."

Using this story, Jewish interpreters then make the leap that God is talking to the board (and the contrarian) in Genesis 22. They do this, partly because the initial phrase, "After these things," can also be translated, "After these words." So it’s not just a device to move the story along. It’s a clue, and it helps them envision a conversation happening between God and the satan. 

"Test him. Let's see what Abe is really made of. I bet he’s not that great."

This interpretation appears in the book of Jubilees, a later Jewish re-telling of Genesis.

“These were words [note: words, not things] in heaven regarding Abraham, that he was faithful in everything that He told him, [that] the Lord loved him, and in every difficulty he was faithful. Then the [Satan-like] angel Mastema [*Mastema means something like animosity; it’s a different board member] came and said before God, 'Behold, Abraham loves Isaac his son, and he delights n him above all else. Tell him to offer him as a sacrifice on the altar. Then You will see if he will carry out this command, and You will know if he is faithful in everything through which You test him.” (Jubilees 17:15–16)

Sound familiar?

Right. The authors of Jubilees interpret the story of Abraham’s testing pretty much exactly like Job’s testing.

According to this reading, God didn't test Abraham because God needed to learn anything. God tested Abraham to show the satan/the adversary/Mastema who Abraham really was.

There's just one problem ... according to Genesis, it is God who learns something.

Rembrandt, “The Sacrifice of Isaac,” 1655

III.

At the end of the story, after Abraham has demonstrated his willingness to sacrifice his son—he's tied him up, laid him on the wood, raised the dagger, and is about ready to plunge it into his son's chest when ALL OF A SUDDEN, the angel of the Lord shows up. 

This is not a divine aide. 

This is ... the Lord.

"Abraham! Abraham! Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me." 

Now I know. 

Weird, right? it doesn’t really go with your theology, does it?

Part of our problem with the story is our belief that God wouldn't need to test anyone because God already knows everything. So why do it? To teach Abraham something? That seems a bit gratuitous, especially given the fact that Abraham has already done A LOT of things to demonstrate his faith in God by this point in the story.

But testing Abraham isn’t how the story is told.

In Genesis 22, God learns something about Abraham ... not the angels, not the satan, not the divine aides, and not Abraham himself.

In Genesis 22, it says, “Now **I** (i.e., God) know.”

Like I said, the story is still pretty horrifying for us, in that God sets up a test (for whatever reason) that defies logic and reason in our context. 

But this little theological tidbit—that God learns something about Abraham—is of massive importance in the story world of Genesis. 

And it is something, I think, we should sit with.