The God who Tests is the God who Provides

Some passages of scripture actually become harder to understand, rather than easier, the longer we study them. The story of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac, or “the binding of Isaac,” as it is referred to in the Jewish tradition, is just such a passage. It is one thing to read it in your 20s, quite another in your 30s and 40s, when you have had children and can better understand the devastating situation that Abraham is in. Who is this God who would make such a demand on his servant?

And it came to pass after these things that the Lord tested Abraham and he said to him, “Abraham.” And he said, “Here I am.” And he said, “Take your son, your only one, whom you love, Isaac; and get up and go to the land of Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains which I will you.[1]

The key to the passage is the phrase, “the Lord tested Abraham.” The Lord tests those whom he loves. Testing is a sign that the Lord has established a relationship with us. God tested Job, and his ordeal also meant losing his children. God tested Israel throughout the people’s 40-year sojourn through the desert to the Promised Land.

Testing is always related to God’s gracious provision of life.[2] When we are being tested, the question is: Do we trust God to provide what we need? Those who pass the test discover that God is trustworthy. And this discovery works two ways. We discover that, in the end, God always comes through and does not leave us in the lurch. God discovers that we trust him, fear him, and obey him. The God who tests is also the God who provides.

The text is remarkably spare. The narrator tells us nothing about what Abraham is thinking or feeling as he makes the journey to the awful destination. As we watch him and the boy, the silence is devastating – the narrative invites us to fill in the silence with our own thoughts. The rabbinic interpreter, Rashi, imagines the following conversation between the Lord and Abraham:

‘Your son. He said to Him, ‘I have two sons’ [referring to Ishmael, the child born to Abraham and Sarah]. He said to him, ‘Your only one.’ He said, ‘This one is an only one to his [father] and this one is an only one to his mother”[3] He said to him, ‘Whom you love.’ He said to him, ‘I love both of them.’ He said to him, ‘Isaac.’”[4]

And Abraham rose in the morning and saddled his donkey and took two of his lads [i.e., servants or young retainers] with him and Isaac his son; and he hewed the wood for the offering and he rose and went to the place where God told him. On the third day, Abraham lifted his eyes and saw the place from a distance. And Abraham said to the two retainers, “You two stay here with the donkey; the lad and I will go over there and worship; and then we will come back to you.” And Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac, his son. And he took in his hand the fire – (flint)[5] – and the cleaver. And the two of them went on together.[6]

When the narrator says that “Abraham lifted his eyes and saw the place from a distance,” we have a second key to the meaning of the passage. The words, “see” or “seeing” and repeated words about sight are repeated throughout the passage and point to how the drama will be resolved:[7]

The word, “providence,” can mean “sight” as well as “provision.” The sentence, “The Lord will provide,” can also be translated, “The Lord sees.” Likewise, “Moriah,” the name of the mountain which the Lord shows Abraham, is the mountain of the Lord’s “sight,” as well as the mountain of his provision. At the beginning of the narrative, a gleam of light flashes in the darkness. The one who tests also sees and provides.

Abraham and Isaac walk slowly up the mountain. Before, they were accompanied by the two young servants and the donkey; now, it is just the two of them, the father and the son. Isaac carries the wood, the instrument of his destruction. Abraham carries the flint for making a fire, and a cleaver. Here, the writer deliberately uses vocabulary associated with animal sacrifice. The knife which Abraham carries is not just any old knife – it is the type used to slaughter animals. Likewise, the word “bind,” is a specialized term referring to the trussing up of the legs of an animal prior to slaughter.[8] In Caravaggio’s painting of this event, there is a little detail which vividly expresses the writer’s intention. The painting shows Abraham, cleaver in one hand, about to bring it down. With the other hand, he is holding down Isaac’s neck. If you look closely, the thumb and index finger are spread out to form a “v” shape, precisely the action used to hold down the neck of an animal. In fact, there is a hand injury called, “Gamekeeper’s Hand,” so-called, because it refers to the way gamekeepers in England held down the neck of a hare before slaughter. Hares are quite strong, and repeating this action over time causes injury to the thumb.[9]

And Isaac said to his father, “My father.”[10] And he said, “Here I am, my son.”[11] And he said, “Here is the fire-(flint) and the wood. But where is the lamb[12] for the burnt offering?” And Abraham said to him, “God[13] will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.” And the two of them went together.

How can Abraham say to his son, “God will provide”? Is he deceiving him in order to lure him to the mountain, unawares? No – at this moment, there is still a way out, there is still “an opening for God” to act.”[14] Abraham answers Isaac’s question by referring him to the only one who can alter the course of the things, namely, God. “He throws the ball back into God’s court, so to speak.”[15] The one who has made this lethal demand is also the living God.

Abraham is not a hero, in the normal sense of the word. His action does not endear us to him. In fact, we might like him better if he had refused the Lord’s command and said something like: “I will not kill my beloved son – that is certain. What is not certain is that the voice I hear is truly God’s voice.”[16] We can neither admire nor condemn Abraham – we can only suffer with him in silence, because we can imagine what it would be like to have to give up a child.[17] In this way, we are drawn into the action – we are no longer mere spectators but participants in the drama.

And they came to the place which God showed him. And there, Abraham built a sacrifice altar; and he arranged the wood; and he bound Isaac his son and put him on the altar, on top of the wood. And Abraham stretched out his hand and took the cleaver to slaughter his son. And the angel of the Lord called from heaven and said: “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” And he said, “Do not raise your hand against the boy, and do him no harm! Because now I know that you fear God and have not withheld from me your son, your only one.” And Abraham lifted his eyes and – look! – a ram caught in a thicket by his horns; and Abraham went and took the ram and offered it as a burnt offering in place of his son. And Abraham gave this place the name, “Yahweh sees,” of which one says today: On the mountain, the Lord makes himself seen.[18]

Abraham passes the test. Now, the Lord knows that he fears God, trusts God, and is obedient to God. Likewise, Abraham discovers – and we with him – that the Lord who tests also provides.

For the Church, the meaning of this story is found in the cross and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. St. Paul provides the best commentary on it when he says: “He who did not spare his own son but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him freely give us all things?”[19] Here, we are face to face with the mystery of the cross: both the Father and the son suffer. The Father suffers the loss of his son; the son, the loss of his Father.[20] This is the meaning of Jesus’ terrible cry of dereliction from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” We are also face to face with the mystery of the resurrection. According to Hebrews, Abraham sacrificed Isaac in the hope of the resurrection:

By faith, Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac . . . concluding that God was able to raise him up, even from the dead, from which he also received him in a figurative sense.[21]

We are living in a period of great anxiety. In the current economic crisis, people are anxious about whether not they will have enough. We may be entering the seven leans years following the seven fat years of plenty, like the patriarch Joseph, later in Genesis.[22] Our faith is being tested. We face the same question which was put to Abraham: Will we pass the test? Do we fear God, do we trust God, who tests as well as provides?

[1] My translation here and throughout unless otherwise noted.

[2] Monica Furlong, Interpretation

[3] Alter cites the passage as follows: ‘This one is an only one to his mother and this one is an only one to his mother.” I have altered it, since it seems to make more sense for Abraham to refer to both himself as well as Sarah here.

[4] Alter.

[5] “Fire” here refers to the “equipment for producing the fire” (Speiser).”

[6] The locative here has the meaning of “being united (together) in one point.” C. de Moor; quoted in Westermann, 353.

[7] Monica Furlong, “From Text to Sermon,” Interpretation.

[8] Alter.

[9] Dr. Wendell Merritt, hand surgeon, in a private conversation (June, 2008).

[10] The expression conveys intimacy, like “Abba” in Aramaic (Alter).

[11] Or simply: “Yes, my son.”

[12] Or simply, “the animal” – not necessarily a lamb.

[13] The word order emphasizes God as the subject, i.e., he alone will provide.

[14] Alter.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Immanuel Kant’s suggestion. Appendix to von de Boor’s German translation of Kierkegaard’s Furcht und Zittern [English: Fear and Trembling], 1949, 160-61; as quoted in Westermann, 354.

[17] Furlong

[18] Alter’s translation.

[19] Rom. 8:32 (New King James).

[20] Moltmann’s formulation in The Crucified God.

[21] Heb. 11:17a; 18.

[22] Gen. 41:53-54.