Wow, this passage frustrates me. A lot. We get nothing. No indication of how Abraham feels. God asks; he does. What was he thinking? Is he at all upset? And where’s Sarah? Is she consulted? Does she get any say in the matter?

What about Isaac? Does he resist? Does he trust his father? Was Isaac as willing to die, as Abraham was to kill him?

And probably most confusing of all, what does this say about God? What kind of God would ask this of anyone?

The traditional interpretation of this text focuses on Abraham’s faithfulness, his ability to put God before and above everything else in his life--even his own son.

I’ll be honest, I’ve never been one for traditional interpretations.

We must remind ourselves that in the historical setting, people didn’t think God was omniscient--or all-knowing. Way back then, this story was, very much, God testing Abraham. Because God didn’t know what Abraham would do.

If that’s the case, then I would like to think Abraham had a secret meeting off-camera, where Sarah, Isaac and the two servants all met to discuss strategy. Abraham and Isaac would play out their little scene, in order to find out what God would do. A test, not of Abraham’s faithfulness, but of God’s. I like to think that both Abraham and Isaac knew that this sacrifice was all for show.

I like this Abraham: doubting, scheming, unwavering in his dedication to Sarah and Isaac.

But as with most things biblical--the story is not about the nature of God, it’s really about us.

This story is about our deep wish to be faithful, and our unwillingness to sacrifice something precious to us. This story is about our need to doubt, to argue and to ask questions.

Let me tell you my story.

I grew up in Hartford, CT. I did choir, bible study, even a year of confirmation classes. But in high school, I saw Christianity as a monolith--one giant monster; and I needed to ask questions. My all-too-typical New England, congregational church was white. My high school, down the street, was the exact opposite. Sometimes I was the only white student in class. I didn’t know why or what, but I knew something was wrong. No one would talk about it--the fact that a form of segregation was still alive in my town.

And as my suspicion of Christianity grew, I came face-to-face with its less than sparkling track-record when it comes to “the homosexual.” As I struggled with my sexuality, there were questions I had that I knew I wasn’t allowed to ask.

I eventually left church altogether to find a healthy skepticism of the tradition that has failed in so many ways.

When I eventually came back to church I held fast to my skepticism, to my questions. But I went back to church, not to be where I was, but to move to a new place.

I had to start wrestling with trust. I didn’t trust “church.” I needed God to help me through that, to help me wrestle with the sins of my tradition. I needed God to guide me back to faith--not to religion or to a church, but to a faithful trust in God.

God answered my prayers. God didn’t stop me from asking questions. If anything, God taught me new ways to ask questions, gave me courage to challenge authority and tradition. God strengthened my faith.

There are Jewish interpretations say Abraham is exactly this kind of guy. A guy who asks questions, who challenges. In earlier chapters of Genesis, Abraham pleads with God for a child; Abraham pleads with God to save Sodom and Gomorrah--he pleads and he challenges.

Based on this pattern, we can see that God wants Abraham to argue--or at least, expects it. But when Abraham no longer musters the energy to argue, God intervenes.

We sometimes overlook the end of today’s story: When Abraham acts on blind faith, when Abraham fails to question God’s call to sacrifice, God doesn’t let Abraham continue. God says “Don’t you lay a hand on the boy”—we’re not doing this anymore. We’re not sacrificing our children—Look at how precious they are! See how important and beautiful they are!

For the ancient world, this is a story about God’s mercy, a divine paradigm shift away from ancient rituals that sometimes did require human sacrifice. God is doing something new, here.

And while this story was not written as a cosmic foreshadowing of Jesus and the crucifixion, the metaphor is so strong that even Paul borrows it. Jesus: God’s ultimate sacrifice for us.

But note the end of that story--Jesus lives! Jesus is raised from the dead! Jesus through the resurrection, conquers the old way, Jesus conquers the traditions of sacrifice and violence. God is saying; Jesus is showing us: we’re done with that now.

We are a post-Binding of Isaac people. We are a post-Easter people.

We’re done with that now.

Across this world, governments and terrorist factions think violence and war is the way toward peace. They expect that more death will lead to future life. If one thing is clear in Jesus’ ministry, he is saying “We’re so done with that now. There is a new way. There is a better way. There’s God’s way.”

We need to step outside the cycle of violence by holding onto a skepticism, a dis-trust, of institutions and systems; but we need to trust in God. We need to ask God to change us, to show us new ways out of old habits.

This is what Paul says when he writes: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.”

Who can I trust? I trust God. Or at least, I’m working on it.

Because God will no longer ask of us things that we cannot do. And when it seems like God or our community is asking us something beyond our limits, it’s ok to be skeptical, it’s ok to ask questions, it’s ok to pray and be patient with yourself. God expects nothing less. But trust in God, even when it is so hard, because God will provide a way out of no way. God will provide a new option. God breaks the cycles of tradition and habits so that we may live.

…so that we may live.

Thanks be to God.