Sacrifice and Salvation

 Preached at Silverton Friends Church

April 28, 2024

William Blake wrote a poem: “To God / If you have form’d a circle to go into / Go into it yourself and see how you would do.” This is exactly what God did in the Son, Jesus. Jesus came into the world, our circle, and we can see how God did and what God did in that circle.

Central to Christian belief is that God loved the world in this way: Jesus came as God’s only begotten Son to seek for and save the lost so that they might not perish. Jesus said that he came not to condemn the world, but so that the world through him could be saved. He was killed for his message of inclusive grace and and for teaching the need to align one’s heart and words and deeds and for his insistence that he would not play the game of power so dear to human beings.

Jesus’s choice to embrace sacrifice and the result that we now are at one with God have been preached around the world.  The way we explain to ourselves why Jesus died at the hands of human beings has enormous significance for how we view God and ourselves and our mutual relationship. I think that each explanation can cite passages from the Bible in support. The discussion, and even enmity, around these explanations underlines the centrality of sacrifice for Christians. Some Christians are uncomfortable and perhaps even queasy about the idea of such a sacrifice being necessary. So I want to think with you about the distinction between being a sacrifice and being a victim, and spoiler alert, the distinction centers on agency.

Probably most obvious is that a victim suffers without having chosen it.  I think about the near death of Isaac in the Old Testament.  The story goes like this: after decades of waiting for a son with his wife Sarah, God sent her a son.  Now, what often goes unsaid is that Abraham had an older son with Sarah’s slave, Hagar, which was apparently an acceptable version of surrogacy in those times.  Ishmael could have inherited, but he would have been known to be the son of the slave. But God showed up to Abraham and promised that Sarah, in her 90s, would have a baby, too.  And she did, recognizing the joke on her by calling him Isaac, which means laughter.  She forced Abraham to banish Hagar and Ishmael so Isaac would be the only son, and he did. In this case, both Hagar and Ishmael were victims of Sarah’s jealousy and Abraham’s spinelessness.  But God stepped in and met Hagar and led her and Ishmael to water and safety. You can read this whole story in Genesis 12-23.

Then, when Isaac was old enough to help carry firewood, God told Abraham to take him up on a mountain and offer him up to God at that place. I have wondered whether this took place in a culture that practiced human sacrifice, but I don’t know. Abraham followed God’s instructions, even proceeding to the point of tying Isaac on top of the firewood, lifting his hand with the knife in it. God halted the proceedings at that point, saying, “Now I know that you are in awe of God—you have not withheld your son, your only one, from me.” And God provided a ram for the sacrifice instead of the boy.  

If Abraham had gone through with the offering, he would have sacrificed, but Isaac would have been the victim, having had no choice in the matter. However, like his banished brother Ishmael, Isaac got to witness God taking care of him when God provided the ram in his place. This is God’s repeated posture in the scripture—identifying with the victim, caring for the victim.

I’ve speculated about this story more than once, wondering why an omniscient God had to find out whether Abraham would be obedient, wondering if instead Abraham had to find out whether he would be obedient. God only knows what lessons God wanted Abraham to draw from that incident, but it’s likely Isaac did not draw the same ones. I’ve wondered how Isaac viewed his father after this event, and how Isaac viewed his father’s God. I’ve thought about how it connects up with Jesus saying that anyone who loves father and mother and wife and children more than they love Jesus is not worthy of him (Matthew 10:37-39). Or even more shockingly, Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.(Luke 14:26, NRSV). These passages, particularly the reference to hatred, make me so uncomfortable. I had to try to soften them, and the word itself does not actually permit softening.  So we have to look at how Jesus behaved as he followed the Spirit of God to help us understand. What does it look like to live putting everything second to God’s Spirit?

Jesus had no wife or children, though people like to speculate, and the possibility is that because his conception was irregular, he was in something of a marginalized position in Jewish society. He did have a mother, and we can look at how he treated her in order to understand what he said.  At the age of 12, which is the Jewish age of manhood, he let her know he would put God’s business first. He listened to her and granted her request at the marriage in Cana, turning the water into wine, but he pushed back, rebuking her a little.  When she came to see him, worried he was in danger of losing mind and life, he refused to go out to see her, saying, “My mother and family are those who hear the word of God and do it.” But when he was dying, he committed her welfare to the disciple he loved, John, who from that day took her into his family. He let her know that obedience to God was top priority, making Mom happy was second at most, but he cared for her.

Further, I want to point out that Jesus also called to account those religious people who let their parents suffer while they designated big sums for the temple, and he condemned those who made it hard for children to approach and trust him and his Father. He said that what people do to the little ones they do to him, so all that has to be carried in the mind while meditating on the absoluteness of the call of God on our lives. Following God first does not mean carelessness about those we love or cruelty to our neighbors.

Jesus made his all or nothing statements in reference to the decision to follow him, so we need to observe closely and intelligently what Jesus did with his life.  Crucially, he depended always on God to tell him what to do and how to do it.  “I do only what I see the Father doing,” he said.

One way Jesus resembled his Father is in looking beyond surfaces to see what another human being is prioritizing. He looked at the rich young ruler and saw that, despite his goodness, what he held as a priority was riches. So he said, “Give them away and come follow me.” He looked at Peter, Andrew, James, and John, and saw that they prioritized their family business and heritage as fishermen. So he said, “Come follow me and I’ll make you fishers for human beings.” He looked at Nicodemus and saw he prioritized his age and intelligence and knowledge of the law. So he said, “You must start over as a new baby in order to follow me.” He looked at Judas and saw he prioritized political expediency and personal advantage. So he said, “Make your choice about what to do and choose quickly.” He looked at the woman caught in the act of adultery and saw she prioritized being desired and desiring. So he said, “Go and sin no more.” He looked at Pharisees and saw them basking in superiority about their knowledge and observance of the law. So he said, “You exempt yourselves from the spirit of the law by following your interpretation of the letter, and you make it impossible for others to measure up. Unless you change direction, you are the children of the devil.” He looked at Zacchaeus and saw that he prioritized getting to see Jesus at the cost of personal dignity. So he said, “Come down and I’ll eat with you.” And Zacchaeus said, “I’ll repay everyone I’ve defrauded and pay damages as well.” 

Some of these people indeed set aside what they had made central to their lives and identities, choosing to follow Jesus. Occasionally they expressed the feeling that they hoped this would pay off tangibly somehow, and occasionally Jesus pointed out that how people treated him was a good indication of how they would treat those who follow him.

When Jesus chose to allow himself to be arrested and crucified, he sacrificed himself despite all his human fear of pain, his ordinary desire for life and happiness. In the garden he sweated drops of blood as he contemplated his near future of torture and death, and on the cross he cried out his sense of abandonment by God. He protested against pain and death and aloneness, but he held fast to his intention because it brought and brings good for us. His ultimate act of agency was choosing to forgive his torturers. Forgiveness reclaims agency and is so good for our souls when we come to a place where we find it possible.

Jesus said that there is no greater love than this, that a person will lay down their life for a friend.  Paul said that some might be brave enough to die for a good person. but we know God really loves us all, because Christ died for, as Paul puts it, the ungodly (Romans 5).  Jesus said that he himself is the good shepherd, and what makes him good is that he lays down his life for the sheep, unlike the hired hand, who runs for his life (John 10). We are the sheep of God’s pasture (Ps. 121). What we learn by observing and listening to Jesus is that God has acted and eternally acts sacrificially for our good. 

Jesus was clear that there is a cost to discipleship, and that top priority would always have to be listening to what God’s Spirit says and doing what God’s Spirit says to do. And Jesus warns us not to judge others for how well they’re doing this hard work, noting that the severity of our judgment will rebound onto us. 

God always knew that the only way to make clear how much God loves us is to show us God’s Son entering into our world to be a willing sacrifice, enduring the results of human choices. It’s as if God was willing to go through the experience Abraham was spared in order to cement our understanding of how much God is committed to loving us. This kind of sacrifice was and is chosen by the one who will be sacrificed. Because of what Jesus chose, we see that we can trust God with our whole selves and lives. 

The Bible, Inclusion, and Sarah and Hagar

Because the Bible came out of patriarchal culture, whenever women's stories are told it is unexpected. In fact, I've come to see these women as signs of inclusion at many points in the Bible. Inclusion often involves some sort of conflict or trouble, which may cause people to consider women as causes of trouble rather than signs that trouble is implicit in the cultural norms.

Recently I looked into various marriages in the Bible, starting with Abraham and Sarah, because St. Peter refers to Sarah as a model for all wives in her submission to her husband, calling him, “Lord.” So I went to read the story. There are two places where Sarah joins Abraham in lying about their relationship, acquiescing to being known as his sister (which is apparently half-true, showing again that this culture is not the same as ours). First, before they are known as Abraham and Sarah—before God renames them—they take refuge from famine in Egypt. Sarai is barren, so it is easy for them to mislead the Egyptians. Because Sarai is beautiful, Pharaoh takes her into his house and gives Abram gifts, perhaps even the slave-girl Hagar. God sends plagues, Pharaoh wises up, sends Sarai back to Abram, and complains about being deceived. Much later, Abraham asks Sarah again to join him in his half-truth in the land of King Abimelech; again, the king takes Sarah; this time, God warns him in a dream that Sarah is married. (As an aside, this shows God speaking directly to a Canaanite king and the king’s immediate obedience.) So two times, Sarah follows Abraham’s lead in misrepresenting their relationship.

In the rest of the story, her submission is less obvious. When she can’t conceive, she decides to help God fulfill God’s promise by offering Abram her Egyptian slave, Hagar, as a surrogate; Abram listens to Sarai and has sex with Hagar, who becomes pregnant. Sarai accuses Hagar of having contempt for Sarai and treats her so harshly Hagar runs away.

God meets the pregnant girl in the wilderness and speaks directly to her. Think about this: not only does God reveal God’s self to the chosen man Abram, he also speaks to a Canaanite king and to an Egyptian slave-girl. God tells her to go back to Sarai and be respectful, and God promises that her son will be the father of multitudes too numerous to count. She names her son Ishmael—“God hears”—and names God as “the God of seeing,” marveling that she really saw God and remained alive. Remember this—a runaway Egyptian slave-girl saw God, received a command which she obeyed, received a promise like the one given to Abram, and lived to tell about it.

In the past, some may have read this passage as defining the duty of slaves to be submissive and respectful to their owners. We wouldn’t do that nowadays, now that we know slavery is wrong. But we don’t hear the rest of the amazing truth in this passage. God meets Hagar face to face and reminds her that he is taking care of her and her unborn son. (I want to write it this way: God. Meets. Hagar. Face. To. Face.) He also confronts her with her contempt for Sarai. Hagar affirms her human dignity by choosing to obey God.

Fourteen years later, Isaac was born to Sarah. When Sarah saw Ishmael and Isaac together, she said to Abraham, “Cast out the slave woman and her son.” Really Sarah is saying, “Cast out your son who is not my son.” Abraham loves Ishmael; he doesn’t want to send him away. God says, “Don’t worry about Ishmael and Hagar; I will make a nation of his descendants also. Do whatever Sarah says because Isaac is the one I promised you and intend to work through.” God can say this because God is the one taking care of Hagar and Ishmael. So in the morning, Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael off into the wilderness with a canteen of water and some bread.

When they run out of water, she places Ishmael under a bush and goes far enough away that she cannot see him. She does not want to watch him die, and she weeps aloud. God hears Ishmael, who must also be moaning, and God’s messenger says to Hagar, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard Ishmael’s moans. Go raise him up and hold his hand. Remember that I will make a great nation of him.” Then God shows her a well of water. They live in the wilderness, Ishmael learns to hunt, and eventually his Egyptian mother finds him a wife from Egypt.

Notice this: God again communicates supernaturally with Hagar. God cares for her again in the wilderness. God makes sure she and her son (and Abraham’s son) do not die. God does not berate her for forgetting his promise. God treats her tenderly and rescues them. God includes the father of the Arabs in his care, knowing full well that there will be enmity and war between the descendents of Abraham, just as there has been enmity between the mothers.

The lessons from this are so challenging: God is the God of Hebrew and Arab. Indeed, with all the attention paid to the supernatural nature of Isaac’s birth, it is easy to overlook the supernatural care given to Hagar and Ishmael. God includes them. This ought to challenge Christians who see Zionism as the will of God, and it ought to challenge Christians who see patriarchy and sexism as the will of God as well.

It has to be noted that Hagar’s worst enemy is not Abraham but Sarah; yet the grounds of their animosity is in the patriarchal system that values women because they give birth. Barrenness is shameful to a woman for the same reason a woman must have a child on behalf of a dead husband; the important achievement is to provide the man with immortality through descendants. Sarah wants a child for Abraham for reasons Tamar will understand. In a patriarchal system, women compete with women to be valuable to men. If what men want is a son to carry on the patrimony, women will value themselves as they are able to produce that son.

However, Sarah, who somewhere in her life called her brother/husband “Lord,” has intrinsic value before God. It isn’t enough that Ishmael was born on her knees, symbolically her child. She wants her own child. She cannot reconcile herself to the legal fiction that makes Ishmael her child. Sarah also wants to birth a child for her own sake, and her jealousy of Hagar has to do with Sarah’s own hunger for immortality. When she went through menopause, she must have despaired. No wonder she laughs bitterly when she overhears God’s messengers repeating the promise to Abraham that Sarah herself will bear a child. No wonder she laughs with joy when Isaac is born. The gift of Isaac, the gift of laughter, the gift of immortality comes courtesy of God only, not from the legal fictions of human beings. No wonder the child of Hagar is an intolerable intruder on this gift as Sarah sees it. Sarah behaves cruelly to Hagar; God does not punish this cruelty, perhaps because God knows that patriarchy has crippled Sarah’s understanding of what gives a woman value.

A few generations later, Jacob’s two wives, Leah and Rachel, compete to give Jacob sons. Leah is far more fertile, producing three sons; so to compete, Rachel gives Jacob her servant girl Bilhah as a surrogate; those two sons count for Rachel. When Leah quits having children, she gives Jacob another servant girl Zilpah as surrogate; those two sons count for Leah, who leads five to two. When Leah’s son brings her mandrakes, which supposedly help make women fertile, Rachel begs for the mandrakes. In exchange, she sends Jacob in to sleep with Leah. Leah had two more sons and a daughter.

When God opens Rachel’s womb, as the Bible puts it, she has a son. Significantly, she rejoices by saying, “God has taken away my reproach.” What is reproachful about being barren? In this culture, the wife has failed in her main duty to her husband—the duty to make sure his line does not die out. Much later, Rachel dies birthing her second son, whom she names “son of my sorrow.” Her sorrow is not just the hard labor, but the sorrow of being unable to measure up to others. Despite being genuinely loved by her husband, she values herself for her fertility, and Jacob’s willingness to go elsewhere sexually in order to have children shows that he too believes a wife’s barrenness requires the remedy of more sexual partners to ensure descendants.

Women are primarily property in these times. Adultery is a property crime in a culture that permits polygamy. It isn’t having sex with more than one woman that is a crime; it is having sex with someone else’s wife. If a wife has more than one sexual partner, who knows which man’s descendant the child is—who has gained immortality thereby? So the response, as seen in the story of Tamar (which will be for another day), is to kill the woman. This ostensibly will reinforce the faithfulness of women so that husbands can be sure the children are theirs. Comically, it is after her sojourn in the house of King Abimelech that Sarah gives birth to Isaac. This seems to me to be a small divine joke at the expense of patriarchal anxieties.

It makes me sad that because of the mistaken use of the Bible to perpetuate patriarchy, people who know in their hearts that God doesn't favor men over women and patriarchy is wrong have felt that they must stop respecting the Bible as an authority for faith and practice. They dismiss and devalue a text that is an enormous resource for understanding the relationship between God and humanity—that tells us over and over that even at our worst, God loves us and is committed to making us whole and holy. They don’t get to know the historical Jesus with his tender heart and tough mind, his focused obedience to his Father, his full humanity in such unimaginable tension with divinity. How sad to know little to nothing of how God has touched the lives of humans in one small tribal group, how God has insisted that other tribal groups matter to God also, how God has entered the circle God drew, as William Blake challenged him (William Blake: "To God/ If you have formed a Circle to go into/Go into it yourself & see how you would do."), and how God has made available to all a new way of living in this world and a hope for joy after death.