Father of faith

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Meditation on the 2nd Sunday of Lent, year B1

Two mountains rise before us today: the Moriah hill and Mount Tabor in Galilee.

It is not known where this first ascent was. Some say it’s the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. By then, however, there was already a city in that place where King Melchizedek worshiped the One God; and the group wandering to the country of Moria does not meet any cities on their way, and the hill, their destination is wild, rocky, overgrown with bushes not suitable even for kindling. We only know that it was three days’ journey from Beth-sheba, where Abraham lived at the time. Mount Tabor is also not a certain place, but a probable one that still exists today. It is important what happens on these heights, although these events are several thousand years apart.

Today I will focus on the events that happened to Abraham.

* * *

Abraham was very old when he set out for the land of Moriah. He has been connected with the Lord for several decades: he always gave faith to His Word and was ready to actively enter into His intention. For him, to enter into God’s intention meant – to leave: from his home country, from a camp, from a place of long-term stopover, and into the unknown. To the land He will show you. Until now, the journey was associated with promises – great promises: to take possession of the fertile land to which the Lord would lead the line of Abraham, and to have numerous offspring. When Abraham left for the first time – with all his family and barren wife, he believed the promise and walked briskly. Wherever he went, he grew in abundance; if he had to fight, he won; when he lived among strangers – he had their respect and love.

The promise of offspring was repeated several times, but time passed, the offspring was gone and Abraham doubted – he was convinced that the goods and the blessing would be taken over by the servant born in his house. The Lord patiently reassured him that not a servant but a righteous son would succeed him; that his offspring would be as numerous as the stars in the sky. Sarah, however, grew older and faded and did not give birth to a son. Even though they waited so long and wanted so much. They doubted the fears: Sarah, knowing she could no longer become pregnant, gave Abraham a concubine so that the Promise could be fulfilled. And Hagar bore a son, Ishmael. But Ishmael was not the son of the Promise,

After thirteen years the Lord intervened again. He requested Abraham a blood covenant – circumcision of men throughout his encampment, and above all in his family now and forever. Circumcision was to be a guarantee of fidelity on both sides. With this request, the Lord once again assured that Sarah would give birth to a son and indicated a specific date – in a year. Abraham, almost a hundred years old, and Sarah, ninety years old, both faded and close to the tomb, took this assurance as a joke: they were amused by the possibility, even though hope was still in their hearts. Humanly speaking, it was completely impossible, but is there anything impossible for God? And behold, Isaac was born to a hundred-year-old old man.

Here, ninety-year-old Sarah was breastfeeding the baby – and laughing at her happiness. This wonderfully born, so awaited child became the light of their lives; made them rejuvenated. Only now did they know what it means to love! What gratitude and happiness must have filled them, how their trust and faithfulness to God must have grown! The Lord fulfilled his promise when there was almost no hope left! He gifted them infinitely more than if a child had been born earlier, when they were young, and it would have been natural.

One would like to say – and they lived happily ever after. But this is not a fairy tale.

Suddenly – a blow! Abraham was put to the test. He, who has always responded willingly to the Voice of the Lord, hears that he is to offer his son, the light of his eyes, the promised heir, as a burnt offering. That is, with your own hands, cut his throat on a sacrificial stone and burn his body with a scent pleasing to God. And it has to do so far away. In a place that God shows. It sounds like an ominous echo of the first calling – going to the Promised Land that God will indicate.

Everything suddenly crumbles to dust. Everything takes on a different meaning. Natural joy and happiness dies out, the heart freezes. And yet Abraham is calmly getting ready to go.

* * *

Seeking the meaning of this event, some say that among the peoples with whom Abraham encountered in his journey there was a custom of sacrificing firstborn children; therefore God, in putting him to the test, wanted to convey to His Chosen One that it is forbidden to sacrifice children.

Yes, it happened that the firstborn was sacrificed at that time – to build a house, to fertilize the fields, to win a war or to thank for winning. But that was not the case with Abraham or his lineage. It was precisely this instruction that Abraham did not need. Never had any of his ancestors practiced or approved of this practice. Throughout his itinerant pastoral life, Abraham had no reason whatsoever to sacrifice a child (if he had any). He had never even felt such a temptation. The Lord, invoking him to this sacrifice, also gave no reason. Not only that: such a sacrifice was in direct contradiction to the reason why Isaac was born! So this explanation does not appeal to me.

Some say that Abraham’s silence and immediate action without question or doubt came from his obedience. And that obedience was rewarded; the father’s hand was raised over his son; the boy’s place was a lamb. So the meaning of this story comes down to the command to always obey God without murmuring.

This explanation does not appeal to me either. Obedience seems to be far too little.

Abraham said nothing to anyone? What and to whom could Abraham say, since he was the only one hearing the voice of the Lord? Sara wouldn’t let the baby be taken! And others would think he was crazy. Or that it’s a devilish trick – tempting to the crime of infanticide. It is unknown what Isaac would do if he found out what the purpose of this journey was.

Therefore, Abraham remained silent and dealt with the practical side of the task: he prepared the wood, the embers to light the fire, and – a sharp knife. He took some servants and – a victim.

* * *

Three days on the road is the whole eternity, when one carries such a mystery in the heart alone. What Abraham felt and thought then is beyond the reach of words; so whoever wrote the story could not talk about it. It only tells what happened. One can guess, however, that each step towards the Mountain was a pain, each minute bringing torment to the offering. And yet the old man walked calmly and did not back away once.

He left the servants under the mountain, because what was going to happen there was for father and son only. When the boy asked about the sacrificial animal, he did not lie, saying that God would choose the lamb himself, despite the certainty that the lamb was his son.

God’s command is incomprehensible, I understand: to sacrifice the only son from whom a multitude would be born! The son whom the Lord promised him at the very beginning of the journey and gave him almost at the end of this journey! He is incomprehensible at heart: to give as a burnt offering his only, beloved, miraculously born child! Should you believe the Promise or should you destroy the dream of the family by killing the son of hope in the name of love for God? And should this really be how love manifests itself? Or maybe Abraham was just pretending that he was going to make a sacrifice, trusting that the Lord would come up with something and it would not be necessary? Then why this long road? And if Abraham had thought so, would he have tied the child up and picked up the knife, killing him already in intention, instead of looking for the lamb sooner? The task that faced Abraham, unique in the Holy Acts, was the culmination of everything he had done so far. It was the pinnacle of what man can do in relationship with God.

This assignment required Abraham to rise above human reason and heart; that he should transcend logic and feeling and contain the contradiction: the certainty that he will not lose his child and become a Father of Multitudes, in accordance with God’s promise, and at the same time the unquestionable conviction that he is going to kill his son on the altar, if God wills it; an unwavering willingness to sacrifice the dearest child who is the meaning of his life and the unwavering certainty that he will keep it. Calm in pain is a sign that Abraham was ready to sacrifice his child to the end and believed that he would not lose it.

The Lord called Abraham to the heroic act of faith to which the patriarch was slowly growing up. To an act that is beyond all reasoning, beyond all efficacy, beyond affection, beyond obedience.

He called him to the most difficult, highest act of faith: to enter the paradox, into a dynamic split, into the simultaneous Yes and No. And it’s not just a logical contradiction. The paradox of faith runs through the blood and pierces the heart. It touches at the same time the greatest love and the greatest suffering; the greatest fear and the greatest hope; the greatest pain of loss and the greatest joy of regaining the lost. Such an event must transform the one who entered it; it moves it into the supernatural order. It introduces him to silence, brings him closer to God beyond words, beyond comprehension, beyond feeling.

This is the apogee of Abrahamic life. After that, he just has to bury Sarah, provide his son with a wife and can go peacefully.

For these three days, for what happened on the hill in the land of Moria and at the same time happened in his heart, Abraham is called the Father of Faith. And I guess that’s the meaning of the story of Abraham. Faith that grows by immersion in a paradox, a faith that God strengthens through a dramatic experience of being torn apart, a faith that not only allows you to walk dry across the sea of despair with the dry foot of hope, but also introduces you to God’s life. It gives peace and silence. And the love that nothing else can give.

Lord, I do. Strengthen my faith.