What was he thinking about?! For three days, Abraham walked, until he reached Moriah, the place God told him to go. The Bible leaves no record of what he said or thought during those three days. All we know from the account in Genesis 22 is that Abraham heard God tell him to take his son Isaac, whom he loved, and offer him as a burnt offering on top of a mountain there. When he arrived, Abraham bound Isaac and was all set to follow through with the sacrifice, when he heard God's angel tell him to stop and release his son. "For now I know that you fear God," the angel said (Gen. 22:12, NRSV).
Generations of scholars have taught that Abraham's experience exemplified his profound faithfulness and obedience to God. But more recently, some have argued that far from being a hero, Abraham was a heartless, cold father whose example validates a level of violence that is totally unacceptable today. Indeed, what father today could lawfully get away with walking off with his child, probably without even consulting with the child's mother, and planning to kill the child in order to gain special favors with God? Yet, when families erupt in violence, or have been unfairly separated, the victims may feel as demoralized as Abraham probably did when he got the news he was to give up his son, and they may think that God has somehow treated them cruelly. But there are some clues in the Bible that unlock a spiritual perspective on this otherwise perplexing story of Abraham and Isaac. Instead of reinforcing what some view as being evidence of Abraham's violence and selfishness toward his son and wife, these clues reveal not only God's love for Abraham and for his dearly loved son, but God's love for all humanity, and of the promises God kept for them. For example, God did make "a great nation" of him and blessed him (Gen. 12:2); and that Isaac was to be evidence that Abraham's descendents would be as many as the stars (see Gen. 15:5). A glimpse into Abraham's spiritual journey illumines our own, and shows there is hope for the healing of broken hearts and broken families.
Many centuries later, Jesus' teaching sheds light on the story of Abraham, when Jesus stated that he was not bringing peace but a sword to family relations (see Matt. 10:34–36). Without reading further, we might conclude that Jesus was justifying violence, just as Abraham appeared to be doing. But a few verses later, Jesus explained that those who want to "find their life"—or paraphrased, those who seek peace in their own earthly ways—would end up losing their lives; and those who would seek God's kingdom by following him must first lose their earthly lives (see Matt. 10:37–39, NRSV). To emphasize the distinction between the everyday life of mortals and the life lived in God's kingdom, Jesus says we get from one to the other by taking up a cross—another way of saying, I believe, that we need to sacrifice our personal sense of life in matter.
The sword of Jesus would be excruciatingly painful to those holding onto a fleshly concept of their children or parents only in their fleshly forms. When people conceive their loved ones distinctly in a material context, then the separation that always occurs in matter-based relationships feels unbearably painful. But the severance from material knowledge of one another is often the very source of discovery of the spiritual reality in a relationship. The peace, harmony, and joy of spiritual consciousness become apparent, when earthly longings are eliminated.
While we have no written record of Abraham's mental journey, it is possible that his three days could have resembled Jonah's three days in the fish's belly, or even Jesus' three days in the tomb. As Jesus taught, those who lost their lives for his sake would find them. In all these Biblical cases, the ordeal was life-threatening: Abraham's sword was in his hand; Jonah had fallen into the great fish's belly; and Jesus himself had been crucified. Yet by sacrificing their fleshly ties, God's plan for life and peace were fulfilled within three days: Isaac was spared and grew to fulfill God's original promise for him; Jonah was spared and went on to save the people of Nineveh; and Jesus experienced a full resurrection.
In order for Abraham to fully grasp the idea that Isaac was God's own child, the promise of God, Abraham may have had to let go of the vivid image that Isaac was born through his own will and through mortal flesh. He may have had to let go of identifying Isaac by his body. He may have wrestled with the temptation to believe life and intelligence were in his son's material body. And even more challenging, he may have wanted to have it both ways—holding onto some impossible combination of opposite properties of material and spiritual life. Whatever his mental opponent might have been, all of these images of life existing in matter would have to be subdued in order for the consciousness of true spiritual existence to become apparent.
There are some clues in the Bible that unlock a spiritual perspective on this otherwise perplexing story of Abraham and Isaac.
The most gripping part of Abraham's story, then, I believe, was that he learned to relinquish his personal, material view of his son and find the child promised by God, who would fulfill God's will. Perhaps his picture of Isaac as being born in the flesh, identified by material history, vulnerable to death, and owned by him, or any mortal, had to yield to the spiritual reality of Isaac as the beloved son of God, cared for, nurtured, and prepared for his mission. According to the text, there are some hints that Abraham may have glimpsed this spiritual distinction taking place.
As Abraham instructed his servants to wait at a distance, he told them "we will come back to you" (Gen. 22:5, NRSV, emphasis added). Whether he fully knew that would be the case, he said it. He also explained to Isaac, when Isaac himself began to wonder what was happening, "God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son" (Gen. 22:8, NRSV). Again, whether Abraham fully grasped what God was going to do, he did acknowledge that he was there to crucify his own will and to bear witness to God's will.
Whatever his personal battle may have been, Abraham was ready when the crucial message was needed—that God was not asking him to kill the spiritual offspring of God. On the contrary, it could be argued that God wanted Abraham to discern the fulfillment of God's original promise, and to witness the God of abundant blessing.
A paraphrase of that dramatic moment in the story (see Gen. 22:10–18) might read: And Abraham took the knife to sever his own longings in the flesh, but the angel of the Lord called him just at that moment. "Abraham! You have not been called to destroy this child! Now that you have seen for yourself that you can worship Me above all, you also understand Me as I am. It is my purpose to bless you and fulfill my promise to you. I told you years ago that I would make you a father of a great nation; and now—because you have sacrificed the false desire for mortal longings—now you see in a new way. You can understand how I will keep my promise forever, and that I love you and all your descendants."
Jesus teaches that all humanity can be blessed by the same kind of sword—the sword preventing parents or children from holding desperately to their loved ones in the flesh. Sympathy, bossiness, anxiety, and pride are all symptoms of the tendency to cherish matter more than God's spiritual child. The sword that cuts off our longings for matter is also the sword that separates families from the agony of mortality. It rouses people from selfishness in their relationships to mature, spiritual understanding. And from a spiritual perspective, they see God's blessings and tender love for everyone.
As Abraham heard the quick warning of wisdom, those who drop the material foundation for relationships can hear the guidance of angels. Their experience with the sword awakens in consciousness God's promise of permanent peace, respect, joy, and love. Abraham's three-day journey in obedience and faithfulness sheds light on the pathway of anyone ready to find God's promises fulfilled in their lives.
Parents, children, brothers, and sisters may have to struggle, as Abraham may have, in their human relationships with others; but his victory also brings hope that our struggles will leave us free of fear and sorrow. Freed from the agony of mortal strivings, we're ready to discover more of God's blessings for each member of the family of humanity.
