My Isaac

Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac on the altar—he drew the knife. Were it not for an angel who came at the last minute to stop him, he would have sacrificed his son—an act that would have been unethical by biblical standards (in a time and place where among the pagans child sacrifice was not uncommon), yet that was in full, unquestioning obedience to God’s command. The significance of this act was elucidated in Hebrews 11:17–19 (ESV):

By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was in the act of offering up his only son, of whom it was said, “Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.” He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead, from which, figuratively speaking, he did receive him back.

Thus, typologically speaking, Abraham sacrificed his son—he drew the knife.

For Kierkegaard, this was a tremendous event, of which he wrote extensively in Fear and Trembling. In regards to ethics, it is a paradox: how can God’s command be contradictory to what we know to be wrong, even through his specific revelation? How can the obedience to God mean the “suspension of the ethical”? But Abraham drew the knife! (Fortunately, now that God has completed his revelation through the written Word, we do not have to suffer such gut-wrenching tension as Abraham did, though still oftentimes we have to make tough decisions in ethically complex situations. But we don’t have to draw the knife—Abraham did.)

Kierkegaard saw his breakup with Regina as a parallel to Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac. He loved her deeply, yet he felt his vocation was to bring reformation to the established church, and for him that required the sacrifice. In his day that act was a great scandal, as his society had expected conformity to certain norms. Yet he was willing to bear society’s reproach, to sacrifice his beloved in obedience to God’s calling. He, too, drew the knife.

Do I have an Isaac that I need to sacrifice? Do I have the courage to draw the knife?