2nd Sunday of Lent 2024

2nd Sunday of Lent 2024

Fr. Ben Riley

This week, on the second Sunday of Lent, we come to what is both dangerous and very holy ground, because the Church is giving us this reading from the 22nd chapter of Genesis. The ancient Israelites referred to it as the a-k-dah, which means “the binding.” It is the binding of Isaac by his father Abraham. I can’t imagine another text in the Old Testament that is more controversial, that has stirred up more puzzlement, and opposition, than this one.

In the seminary, I read a work based on this scripture which is called “Fear and Trembling” by Soren Kierkegaard, the great philosopher. His point was that if you don’t experience fear and trembling having read this text, then you have not been paying attention. This text is not a kind of simple moralizing, and we cannot skip over it simply because it’s challenging. It names something that is absolutely crucial to the spiritual life.

Let’s listen again to this story. “God put Abraham to the test. He called to him, and Abraham replied, ‘Here I am Lord.’ Then God said, ‘Take your son Isaac, you’re only one, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and there you shall offer him up as a Holocaust.’” Fear and trembling indeed.

Remember, Abraham is chosen by the Lord. He hears the voice of the Lord and follows to the promised land. God makes a covenant with him. “You’ll become the father of great nations and your descendants will be greater than the stars in the sky.” All those wonderful promises. And Abraham gets older and older and older, eventually reaching the age of 99. He says, “Well Lord when is this ever going to happen?” And the Lord makes it happen. Abraham and Sarah have a son, Isaac. At last, the Lord’s promises are fulfilled.

Notice the language here as God speaks. “Abraham take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love.” It’s almost as if God is rubbing in how enormously important this child is to Abraham. “And I want you to offer him up as a Holocaust (That means a burnt offering) on a height that I will point out to you.” Try to imagine the emotional and psychological state of Abraham hearing those words. It’s hard to imagine someone going through more of a crisis.

So, here’s the question in the mind of everybody who has ever read this story. Why in the world would God do this? The story has a happy ending, sure. Isaac is not killed. But why this heartbreaking test: Isaac carrying the instruments of his own sacrifice up the mountain, carrying the wood for the holocaust?

Then the a-k-dah, the binding. And Abraham is willing to do it, to sacrifice his son. He raises the knife, and only then does the angel stay his hand. And the Lord says, “Now I know that you love and obey me.” I can forgive people throughout the ages, from biblical times, through Kierkgaard, to our time, wondering what we’re dealing with here? This sounds like something rather monstrous, doesn’t it?

Okay, what we should not do is psychologize this reading. We should not see it in primarily subjective psychological terms. What we have here is something that is woven all through the Bible. Remember, it began with a test. God put Abraham to the test. What is the real test: Do you love God, or do you love the benefits of God? Let me say that again, because this is the test: Do you love God or do you love the benefits of God?

God provides benefits for us all the time. The fact that you and I even exist, that we are breathing, any kind of success or good thing that has ever happened; those are all benefits that have come to us from God. And that is wonderful. But how do I love God? Do I love Him because of the good things he gives me? Or do I love Him for his own sake? Do I love the benefits that come to me from God’s will, or do I love God’s will itself?

Now, there’s a very close link between this story and the beginning of the book of Job. Remember Satan in the heavenly court, and God says to him, “Have you noticed my servant, Job?” Most people at that time are pretty wicked, but Job, he I s just, upright, faithful. And Satan replies to God, “Well yeah, because you’ve given him every good thing. Job is successful, has a big family, he’s got nothing but riches, he’s well loved. Sure Lord, you’ve given him all these benefits.” And so, a test happens. God gives Satan permission to take all of that away. And at the heart of the book of Job, we hear Job say, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord.” Does he complain? Yes. Does he suffer? Absolutely. And that’s all in the book of Job. But at the end of the day, Job witnesses to the fact that he loves, not the benefits of God, but God himself.

We see the same thing in the spiritual tradition of the Church, in someone like Saint John of the Cross, when he talks about The Dark Night of the Soul. He’s not talking about depression. He’s talking about the stripping away of all those benefits that come to us, to the body and to the soul. If I strip all those away, what am I left with, but God in himself? Do I love the benefits of God or do I love God? In some ways, this is the central question of the spiritual life.

This life and this world are a tough road to walk. As Job, Abraham, and St. John of the Cross experienced, the Lord gives and sometimes the Lord takes away. However, is God’s ultimate purpose always a purpose of love? Yes, it is. God is love. Can we always see his purpose clearly and on our terms? No, often it’s only in hindsight that we can see just how closely God is working and moving in our lives. Does the love of God always correspond to benefits that I can immediately see and appreciate? No, and that’s the test.

Okay, Abraham on Mount Moriah, Job on the dung heap, having been stripped of all his goods. Let me mention just one more image: Jesus on the cross. He is stripped on the cross of every possible benefit. Friendship? All his friends abandoned him. Honor? No, people are spitting at him. Bodily well-being? No, he is dying a cruel death. He’s like Abraham on Mount Moriah. He’s like Job on the dung heap. Jesus is nailed to the cross, and what does he say? “Father, forgive them. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” What did he say in Gethsemane when he entered into this time of suffering? “Not my will, but your will be done.”

Now just one quick glance, because the Church connects that first reading so perfectly with this awe-inspiring Gospel: Mark’s account of the Transfiguration. What happens now on Mount Tabor, the mount of transfiguration? Peter, James, and John, in the midst of all the struggles of their ministry, they see Jesus transfigured, dazzlingly bright, the glory of the Lord revealed. That is the will of God that we are called to love even when we can’t see it. What they are given is a glimpse of that glory we are meant to fall in love with: God in himself.

I know it’s not easy. When difficult times come our way, we can get bogged down, and lose focus. But that is why this holy season of Lent is so important. It is a time to spirituality put ourselves to that test. Do we love the benefits of God, or do we love God?