In Silence Genesis 22 Some of life’s deepest mysteries are examined in Bible stories. Through the centuries, for example, many have tried to make sense out of the narrative recorded in Genesis 22, one of the darkest, most difficult stories that humans have ever told each other. This account begins with a shout. It’s only one word long. Abraham is at home with his wife, his servants. We don’t know what he’s doing at this moment. It’s probably an ordinary day. When suddenly Abraham hears a voice. The voice says to him one word: “Abraham!” This is not just a voice. This is the voice of God, the Creator of the Universe calling to one man, to Abraham. Not for the first time, not at all. When Abraham was younger, God appeared to him and told him to leave his home, which Abraham did. And then God told Abraham to go to a strange land, which he did. And then God and Abraham exchanged promises, and made a covenant together, and God told Abraham to send his first son Ishmael away into the desert, which Abraham did. And then God told Abraham that he had a plan to destroy the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. This time Abraham argued with God. They went back and forth – Abraham and God. “Can’t we save those cities, or some people in those cities, or anyone in those cities?” Later God sent angels to tell of the coming of Isaac. So it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary when God came to where Abraham was and called to him. And Abraham responded: “Here I am.” It was just the start of another conversation - another in a series. Until the next sentence. With God’s next utterance, this conversation changes shape and becomes like no other conversation in the bible, like no other story in the Bible, like no other story. God says, “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.” Most of us know the back story. When Abraham was a young man in Ur, God came to him and told him that if he left Ur and travelled west, away from his home, far from the places he knew, God would give him children, and from 2 those children would arise a mighty nation. Abraham obeyed and travelled west and settled in a strange land. And he waited for his first child – the child that would spawn this nation. And Abraham waited, and he waited. And his wife Sara waited. Nothing happened. Still they waited. Nothing happened. Until Sara was old, a very old woman, well past child bearing age. And that’s when three angels appeared at Abraham’s tent and said, “Now is the time for Sara to have the baby.” And Sara said, “Oh come on.” Even laughed out loud at the craziness of that idea. But in fact, the baby was born. Isaac was born. His arrival was a little awkward. Because there was already a boy in the house – Ishmael – who was Abraham’s son by his servant Hagar. But God had his mysterious priorities. Ishmael was banned from the house. God made it plain that the future of Abraham’s people – the seed of this great nation - lay not in Ishmael, the oldest boy, but inside Isaac. So Isaac, for the purposes of nation- building, was Abraham’s only son, the one whom Abraham loves. But here - later on this day, God says, “Take Isaac, and go to Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering.” By which God means a human sacrifice. The Hebrew word here implies an offering that is totally consumed. So Isaac is to disappear, to be reduced to ashes. This boy who was to be everything will now be nothing. So what does Abraham do when he hears this command? What does he say? In the story he says nothing. No record of any response from Abraham. Instead the account reads: “Early the next morning Abraham got up and saddled his donkey. He took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac. When he cut enough wood for the burnt offering, he set out for the place God had told him about. ” He does not appear to argue. He does not hesitate. He does what he is told. It’s hard to fathom – really. Did he tell Sara his wife? Did she not ask, “Where are you going? Why are you taking Isaac?” He has to know when she hears that Isaac has been killed by her husband - if this is going to happen, if it’s really going to happen - he must know that this will be the single most terrible experience of her life. The writer of Hebrews commented that Abraham reasoned God could raise Isaac from the dead. God could. Maybe Abraham is hoping it won’t happen. We don’t really know. All we know is that he leaves early in the morning, walking side by side with Isaac and the donkey and the servants heading to this place that God had chosen. 3 Furthermore, the account doesn’t record any conversation between Abraham and Isaac. So much of what happens in this story happens in silence. They walk for one day, two days, three days. On the third day, Abraham says to his servants, “Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We’ll worship and we will return to you.” And he puts the wood onto Isaac’s shoulders and his back, and takes out a knife and some hot embers. Now the two of them, the father and the son, they walked on alone. And that’s when Isaac stops, and he asks this question, his heart-rending question, “Father?” “Yes, my son.” “Father, the fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” And Abraham says, “God will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” And Isaac doesn’t respond. At least there’s no response in the text. And the two of them, they keep walking . walking to Isaac’s annihilation. Why no protest, no questions? Why this quiet? There are few silences of the Bible so troubling. But there is another one. It’s a few chapters before this one, and maybe the two silences speak to each other. This other silence occurs in the story of Noah. God sees too much wickedness in the world, and decides to destroy what he has created except for one good and righteous man named Noah and his family, and a collection of animals. Two of every kind that Noah will gather on board a boat – big boat. So Noah builds the Ark. And he brings all the creatures on board. And on they come. There’s a beautiful book about this by the Dutch artist Peter Speer. It’s gorgeously illustrated in simple line drawings. And in Speer’s book, Noah is kind and hard-working. He’s familiar with animals. Better than familiar really. He can handle them and comfort them and tend to them. He’s a lover of living things. And then the rain starts. And Noah in “zooy” confusion, rushing from tortoise to baboon to ostrich feeding and caring and managing, he looks out . before the hatch is closed. Now is the time to baton down, keep the living cargo dry. And in Peter Speer’s imagination, as the rain puddles around the boat, as the clouds mount up and darken and flash, and the rain starts to fall. 4 Very quietly animals begin to appear out from the forest. They come down from the hillsides, and out of the ground, and down from the sky. And they gather. First it’s a little group, then a larger one by the ark. By the big closed silent Ark. Except they’re not there two by two. No, they’ve come in haphazard combinations. Three armadillos, seven giraffes, a robin, a panda, elephants, some lionesses. These are the animals that are not going to travel on the Ark. That are not going to be protected. That are not going to live. And together they stare up at the closed ark, at the boat that contains the survivors – the lucky ones. Do you see them? The jaguars staring - and getting wetter. The camel and the mice that – one could argue – have never been wicked. These animals that outnumber the humans on the planet by hundreds of thousands by millions – these innocent creatures accepting, enduring this inexplicable end. The chimpanzee baby nuzzling its mother in the downpour wondering, “How long will it rain, mama?” Just as Isaac asked, “Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” And there is no answer a parent can give. And the animals stand there as the sea level rises in the endless rain. Now the trout and the squid – are they less guilty? Why do they get to survive? Maybe even thrive in an expanded watery environment. There are no answers to these questions. And what of Noah? Tending to his creatures. Feeding them. Keeping them warm and dry. What would he have thought just before the ramp was closed, when the last two snails and the pair of lazy worms were scuttled inside? When Noah the righteous man, the good man looked out on all those creatures - sentenced to death by drowning and starvation – what did this good man say? The Bible doesn’t tell us.