(טו) וַיִּקְרָ֛א מַלְאַ֥ךְ יקוק אֶל־אַבְרָהָ֑ם שֵׁנִ֖ית מִן־הַשָּׁמָֽיִם׃(טז) וַיֹּ֕אמֶר בִּ֥י נִשְׁבַּ֖עְתִּי נְאֻם־יקוק כִּ֗י יַ֚עַן אֲשֶׁ֤ר עָשִׂ֙יתָ֙ אֶת־הַדָּבָ֣ר הַזֶּ֔ה וְלֹ֥א חָשַׂ֖כְתָּ אֶת־בִּנְךָ֥ אֶת־יְחִידֶֽךָ׃(יז) כִּֽי־בָרֵ֣ךְ אֲבָרֶכְךָ֗ וְהַרְבָּ֨ה אַרְבֶּ֤ה אֶֽת־זַרְעֲךָ֙ כְּכוֹכְבֵ֣י הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם וְכַח֕וֹל אֲשֶׁ֖ר עַל־שְׂפַ֣ת הַיָּ֑ם וְיִרַ֣שׁ זַרְעֲךָ֔ אֵ֖ת שַׁ֥עַר אֹיְבָֽיו׃(יח) וְהִתְבָּרְכ֣וּ בְזַרְעֲךָ֔ כֹּ֖ל גּוֹיֵ֣י הָאָ֑רֶץ עֵ֕קֶב אֲשֶׁ֥ר שָׁמַ֖עְתָּ בְּקֹלִֽי׃
(15) The messenger of יקוק called to Abraham a second time from heaven,(16) and said, “By Myself I swear, יקוק declares: Because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your favored one,(17) I will bestow My blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore; and your descendants shall seize the gates of their foes.(18) All the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendants, because you have obeyed My command.”
[Note: another translation ends with "hearkened to My voice."]
And Abraham heard all that the angel of the Lord said;
And Abraham replied:
Lord, for You, I have given up everyone—
I left my father, my family, my homeland to go with You;
I banished my son and his mother.
I prepared to sacrifice my wife’s son, my only remaining son, whom I love;
and I will lose her when she hears of this.
Isaac was so proud and happy to come with me;
at last, we were doing something together.
Together.
(Perhaps I should have spent more time with him
and less with You.)
When we left the others and went on, together,
he was thrilled to have me to himself at last.
He talked and laughed;
he apologized for his giddiness, but said he is “Laughter.”
When he finally thought to ask about the sacrifice,
he thought I was joking with him:
“God will provide a lamb for the sacrifice, my son.”
“That’s good, father;
you know, that could be taken two ways.
Are you addressing me as ‘my son’ or is ‘my son’ an appositive—
am I meant to be the lamb for the sacrifice?
Really, father, you should be more precise;
it’s actually quite a clever pun.
It’s almost as if what you mean to say is too painful for words
and you’re trying to hide it in ambiguity.”
I didn’t laugh.
He looked at me and screamed.
He threw the fire for the sacrifice on the ground;
it went out.
“No, you can’t mean this;
no, You can’t mean this.
This is what He wants?
Are you sure?
Have you asked Him?
Have you explained why this is impossible?
Am I worth less than Sodom and Gomorrah?
For them you argued:
He didn’t even ask your opinion—
He just wanted to tell what He had in mind.
And you had the audacity to suggest that maybe He was wrong.
Well, I know He’s wrong this time.
Is that the problem,
you know he’s wrong too?
Maybe that’s the lesson to be learned here:
He wants insightful criticism, not blind devotion.
You told Him that the Judge of the world must be just;
mustn’t the Father of the world protect his children?
There must be a way out of this:
Remember how you told Pharoah that Mother was your sister?
Well then, I’m not really your son,
I’m your nephew.
Gee, I guess there’s no one to sacrifice;
we’d better go back.
No, huh?
Oh well.
Why not Ishmael?
He’s your first-born anyhow.
He’s waiting at the bottom of this mountain;
I could go back and get him for you.
But I don’t want you to sacrifice him either;
this is all wrong.
Officially, I suppose, Mother sent him away,
and I’m all that’s left.
Is that it? Are you still angry about that?
Do you blame me?
It’s not my fault;
I was only a baby at the time.
And I’ve always liked Ishmael;
I wish I could hunt as well as he can.
When I have a son—if I live that long—
I hope he’s like Ishmael.
It was Mother, not me,
not wanting any rivals around.
She was always overprotective,
and I think she resented your relationship with Hagar.
Why was that?
Do you love Hagar as much as she does you?
Is Mother right to be jealous?
She still is, you know.
Maybe you shouldn’t visit her quite so often.
Maybe bringing Ishmael along for the ride was a mistake.
Think about this—
killing your son to get back at your wife?
This isn’t a Greek tragedy;
we’re pre-Hellenistic.
Haven’t I been a good son to you?
Then again, how would you know?
You’ve spent so much time being the great man—the humble servant of Greatness—
I’m surprised you remembered you have a son.
I guess sacrificing me will be no great loss,
at least not for you.”
I said nothing.
We walked on together in silence.
“You do realize, don’t you, Father,
that if I ran away, you’d never catch me.
Well, I’m not going to.
I’m giving you the chance to see the error of your ways.
If I fled (as every rational fiber in my being tells me to do),
then you would never understand that you don’t have it in you to kill me.
Even if you haven’t been around as much as I wanted,
I think I know you well enough to know you could never try to kill your son.”
Still I said nothing;
and we went on together.
Finally we reached the site.
I prepared the wood.
He let me bind him;
I placed him on the wood.
He seemed almost cheerful,
knowing that soon I would tell him we should quit and go home.
There was an amused light in his eye;
he seemed almost smug in his certainty of my character.
And then I lifted the knife.
He saw the strength of my grasp, the tightness of muscles, and the clenching of my teeth.
As my hand started down and my eyes glazed over,
the light in his eyes went out.
At that instant I heard His voice and saw the ram;
but, alas, too late.
And so, now I ask You,
did I pass this test?
I find no favor in my son’s eyes,
only despair.
What kind of test is this for me
when it ruins others?
What good is Your reward
when I have lost everyone?
What good is Your reward
when everyone else has lost?
What lesson is there in all this?
That it’s wrong to kill?
What is left for Isaac to live for?
I was his ultimate source of safety and I betrayed him for You.
Was he wrong to trust me more than You?
Is he being punished for that?
But I was going to kill him in Your name.
(Yes, I was going to do it.)
I have learned a frightening thing about myself:
I wanted to do it.
I felt joy as I lifted the knife,
wonderful exultation as I started to thrust down.
Thank you for saving me from myself.
But no one, not even You, saved Isaac from me.
Yes, I now see that killing is wrong,
but why did Isaac need to be destroyed to teach me this lesson.
How can he ever trust again?
Is he always to be deceived by those closest to him?
I really passed this test?
I don’t believe it.
In any case,
I want no more of your tests.
I quit.
I’ve had it with history and greatness.
I’m not ready to be the leader of a great nation.