It is an honor to contribute this essay as a tribute to Don Carson. It was Don who believed in my idea for a book for NSBT based on a paper I gave at a conference. His helpful oversight sharpened my work. Since that time, I have appreciated this fellow Canadian’s scholarship and mentorship from afar, and his constant desire to hear the text then and now.

In my book, Dominion and Dynasty, I described Abraham’s harrowing journey to Mount Moriah as more like a trek up Mount Doom.¹Stephen G. Dempster, Dominion And Dynasty: A Biblical Theology Of The Hebrew Bible, NSBT 15 (Nottingham: Apollos, 2003), 84. There, he was to slay his beloved child of promise as an ultimate test of his love for God. Only the audience knows that this was a test. From a literary point of view this is the climax of the Abraham narrative, as it clearly echoes his call at the beginning. But the stakes are higher. At the beginning he was told to leave (לֶךְ־לְךָ) his homeland presented with three descriptors, “your country, your people, and your father’s household” (Gen 12:1), and go to an appointed place. This is his past. Now, in chapter 22 the same language is used to leave (לֶךְ־לְךָ) his future behind (these are the only times in the Hebrew Bible that לֶךְ־לְךָ occur), described four times as “your son, your only son, the one whom you love, Isaac,” by going to a designated place and offering him up as a burnt offering (22:2). As far as the larger metanarrative of Scripture is concerned, this future is not only Abraham’s but is destined to be the future of the world, for there can be no universal blessing without this child. It seems then as if this child of promise must experience the curse of death. “In him every saving thing that God has promised to do is invested and guaranteed … [the sacrifice] is the disappearance from Abraham’s life of the whole promise.”²Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis: A Commentary, NTL (Philadelphia: Westminster John Knox, 1973), 244.

This is an extraordinarily horrific ordeal, and the text has been traditionally understood as being the ultimate test of love for God, coming near the end of the Abraham narrative. The promise that Abraham would have a child who would bless the world has now finally been fulfilled. After many delays, in which Abraham and Sarah tried to domesticate the promise (Gen 15:3; 16:1–3) and even laughed at the possibility of the birth of a child to them in their old age (17:17; 18:12), the impossible dream came true (21:1–2). And the child was aptly named Laughter, both a rebuke to their doubts and the gift of incredible life and blessing into a cursed world. And yet, “No sooner are the birth and early childhood of Isaac described than the scene shifts to the most severe crisis in the narrative. God requires Abraham to sacrifice his son as a burnt offering” (22:1–22).³Dempster, Dominion and Dynasty, 84. The child whose name means Laughter will now bring unbearable grief. The impossible dream now becomes a lived nightmare.⁴Stanley D. Walters, “Wood, Sand and Stars: Structure and Theology in Genesis 22:1–19,” TJT 3 (1987): 308. And the text is a literary masterpiece of Hebrew narrative, “fraught with background.”⁵Erich Auerbach, “Odysseus’ Scar,” in Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature—New and Expanded Edition, trans. Willard R. Trask, with Edward W. Said (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2013), 1–13. Each word is carefully chosen, and extra words such as “son” and “father” are filled with meaning and pathos. The whole text shows the intimate and close relationship between father and son.⁶“ … the narrator takes great pains to demonstrate Abraham’s love for Isaac, thereby signifying the monstrosity of the test imposed upon one who has waited so long for the fulfillment of the divine promise.” James Crenshaw, “Journey into Oblivion: A Structural Analysis of Gen. 22: 1–19,” Soundings: An Interdisciplinary Journal 58.2 (1975): 253. And as Stanley Walters has shown, its place in the Torah shows its connection to the sacrifices of Leviticus, in particular the Day of Atonement. Every Israelite thus becomes Isaac on the altar, delivered at the last minute by the Lord’s substitute offering.⁷Walters, “Wood, Sand and Stars: Structure and Theology in Genesis 22:1–19.”

But in recent times the text has been used in a number of ways, as an indication of the God of Old Testament violence, or of primitive practices, certainly not in line with Jewish and Christian traditional ways of reading the text. The text has been charged as a horrendous example of child abuse.⁸See e.g., Cindy Brandt, “Child Abuse in the Near Sacrifice of Isaac,” https://cindywangbrandt.com/child-abuse-in-the-near-sacrifice-of-isaac/. See also Walter Moberly’s comments about the current “torrent” of such comments: R. W. L. Moberly, The Theology of the Book of Genesis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 182. And even within various Christian circles, one Christian writer’s comments are not that uncommon: “At the outset it must be made clear that we cannot really suppose that the God and Father of Jesus Christ ever made so inhuman a demand upon a father as that which is represented here.”⁹William Cosser, Preaching the Old Testament (London: Epworth, 1967), 44.

Often, when scholars make such statements, they do not provide much exegetical support for their views but are simply repulsed by the text. However, a recent book devoted to this very subject has appeared which argues that the text itself, when read correctly, criticizes Abraham instead of praising him. In other words, the traditional view that Abraham is praised for his act of supreme devotion in obedience to God is a misreading of the text. Abraham’s silent obedience and so-called settled faith is a missed opportunity for growth in his relationship with God. His silence is tragic.¹⁰J. Richard Middleton, Abraham’s Silence: The Binding of Isaac, the Suffering of Job, and How to Talk Back to God (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2021). Remarkably similar points were made in an earlier publication by Leonard Sweet, Out of the Question—nto the Mystery Getting Lost in the Godlife Relationship (Colorado Springs: WaterBrook, 2004), 37–64. Abraham is following a different worldview, an ancient pagan one, rather than the emergent monotheism of his nascent faith, and this former worldview is the one that he should have decisively rejected. Earlier in the narrative, he was on the right track when he interceded for the sinful city of Sodom, but why did he not intercede for his own son? God was trying to help him accept Isaac, whom he had apparently esteemed less than Ishmael. The result was that after the near sacrifice, God’s apparent praise of Abraham’s obedience was extremely muted, and the act of near immolation resulted in a family breakup which led to generational dysfunction. Abraham never saw Isaac again.

Let me first say that I respect the author of this book. There is much in the book from which I profited, particularly his emphasis on prayer as lament giving voice to one’s sufferings and complaints to God. This was one of the ways that the author was able to reconnect with his own faith after an intense period of spiritual decline. I have to say that I have benefited immensely from his other writings and have appreciated his concern not only for exegetical detail but also for practical application. I have highly recommended his book on the image of God¹¹J. Richard Middleton, The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005). in my classes, and the author kindly came at my invitation to deliver a paper on his insightful book treating biblical eschatology¹²J. Richard Middleton, A New Heaven and a New Earth: Reclaiming Biblical Eschatology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013). at the Biblical Theology section of the Evangelical Theological Society.

At the same time, I need to express my serious misgivings about his interpretation of the Aqedah text.¹³Genesis 22:1–19 is known as the Aqedah text in Jewish tradition since the Hebrew word for the binding of Isaac is only used once in the Bible: עָקַד (Gen 22:9) He begins by noting the importance of lament in Scripture, as a way of expressing one’s honest feelings toward God and not suppressing them, and then proceeds to discuss helpfully and pastorally some of these psalms as well as the book of Job, which he helpfully describes as “voices from the ragged edge” of Scripture. This is the context of his exploration of Genesis 22:

My interest in the meaning of Genesis 22, the book of Job, and how they may both be read in light of the lament tradition is not simply antiquarian. Rather, this exegetical exploration has a definite theological—even a pastoral—aim. As a biblical scholar, I love the in-depth exploration of biblical texts. Yet my purpose in this book is ultimately to help people of faith recover the value of lament prayer as a way to process our pain (and the pain of the world) with the God of heaven and earth—for the healing both of ourselves and of the world.¹⁴Middleton, Abraham’s Silence, 20.

He then provides his three main reasons for questioning the traditional interpretation of Genesis 22. His first is personal:

The first and most basic consideration [of questioning the traditional understanding of Gen 22] is that I simply do not believe the God I have come to know would ever want me to sacrifice the life of another as proof of faithfulness; nor do I believe that this God values blind, unquestioning compliance. So if I heard a voice—internal or even external—claiming to come from God, telling me to sacrifice my son, I would not automatically comply … > And if (for the sake of argument), after probing and investigating, I somehow came to believe that this word genuinely came from God, I would vigorously object to the instruction and question why God would want such a thing. And I would certainly intercede for the life of my son.¹⁵Middleton, Abraham’s Silence, 81.

His second reason is that “there is significant biblical precedent not to acquiesce voicelessly in a situation that seems wrong or unjust. This precedent includes the lament prayers in the Psalter, the intercession of Moses after the golden calf episode, the prophetic tradition of intercession on behalf of Israel, and the vocal complaints of Job.” ¹⁶Middleton, Abraham’s Silence, 81–82.

Finally, there is the fact of striking dissonance within the Abraham narrative itself, since a few chapters earlier Abraham had interceded quite strenuously for a foreign city, but “when it comes to his own son … Abraham is strangely silent … . The contrast with Genesis 18 is startling.”¹⁷Middleton, Abraham’s Silence, 81–82.

At the outset it is quite clear that Genesis 22 is a difficult text and many orthodox interpreters have realized this. Middleton has mined the Jewish tradition for interpreters who have had problems with the text. For example, the book of Jubilees presents a Satanic figure as provoking God to provide this test for Abraham (Jub 17:15–18). This coheres with the story of Job, where God allows the Satan to attack Job. But it is interesting that although Middleton does show how the NT provides examples of giving voice to lament and complaint to God, e.g., in Jesus’s wrestling with God in the Garden of Gethsemane regarding his impending crucifixion, he conspicuously omits the two texts which explicitly mention the Abrahamic test and praise Abraham as an example of great faith and works for his obedience to the divine mandate (Jas 2:20–24; Heb 11:17–18; cf. Rom 8:32). It is clear that these texts directly contradict the thesis of Middleton and would suggest serious problems for that thesis if not for the doctrine of the inspiration of Scripture.¹⁸See also the allusions to Genesis 22 in the baptism and transfiguration of Jesus in Mark 1:11 and 9:7 (“My beloved Son”). In a paper given at a conference, Middleton does raise the issue of Hebrews and its interpretation of Genesis 22 and argues that, since the scholarly consensus holds that there is little evidence of resurrection in the OT, the writer of Hebrews imported a later belief back into the text. He affirmed (erroneously) that Abraham believed that God would resurrect Isaac even if he was killed.. As far as I am aware, this is not mentioned in his book. See “Abraham’s Ominous Silence in Genesis 22,” J. J. Thiessen Lecture Series, Canadian Mennonite University, 25 October 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yr0owqIk4vg”.

Secondly, the fact that the text does not mention Abraham objecting to the command of God does not mean that he had no problems with it. A sensitive reader of the entire narrative knows the fulfillment of this promise was something for which Abraham had long waited. The clear implication is that this child was no ordinary child but the epitome of the blessing of God’s dreams for all the families of the earth. Most commentators recognize that Genesis 22 is a mirror image of Genesis 12 and is a deliberate echo, and in the latter momentous text, Abram hears the divine command and walks away from his past with nary a word. But surely the beginning of his spiritual journey was also a momentous act of faith. The author, by highlighting mainly the actions of this knight of faith at the beginning and the ending of the narrative, is making a clear statement. And by adding only the single Hebrew word הִנֵּנִי (“Here am I”) in Abraham’s response to God in the climactic text, the author is highlighting the growth in Abraham’s faith. Surely he had problems with both commands because they represented the upending of his entire life. Nevertheless, in the words of 12:4, “he went” (וַיֵּלֶךְ), and in the words of 22:1, 11 where he said, “Here am I” (הִנֵּנִי ), he shows his unswerving determination.

But why does Abraham not intercede for his own son as he does for Sodom? Why can’t he raise one single voice of protest or intercession for his own son, while he speaks volumes for Sodom? Surely by this time he has learned something about the goodness of God, and that he can trust this God, despite appearances. He would have learned that in leaving Mesopotamia, in the Hagar fiasco, in the successful Sodom intercession … . His son, Isaac, was clearly a miraculous gift, an impossible, inconceivable dream as any budding centenarian and his octogenarian wife would realize. The Abraham narrative is clearly a long journey of faith, and there is something of a literary climax at the end. By being silent the tension is raised to the nth degree. The mystery for Abraham is, “How could God go back on the promise and cancel their great future of universal blessing?”¹⁹This is a paraphrase of a statement by Walters, “Wood, Sand and Stars: Structure and Theology in Genesis 22:1–19,” 307. But the mystery is resolved with Isaac on the altar and his father now exiting his part in the salvation history of Scripture: His belief was not blind faith because he believed, because of all that had gone before, that his God could be trusted. And he was right. This explains not only his silence toward God but his faith-filled and prescient statements to his servants that he and Isaac would return after worshipping on the mountain (Gen 22:5), and his reassuring words to his son that God would provide for himself an animal for the sacrifice (22:8). Abraham’s naming of the location of sacrifice as the place where God provides confirms his insight of faith (22:14). And future Israelites learn the same lesson whenever they also present their sacrifices.

The Achilles heel for Middleton’s interpretation is, of course, the praise that is heaped on Abraham by the angel of Yahweh after Abraham passes with flying colors this test of faith. The promises to Abraham are for the first time affirmed with an explicit divine oath and emphasized by the double use of the infinitive absolute for the first time in the promises made to him. Secondly, these promises, which have always before been non-contingent, now take on the air of contingency, since twice the angel of Yahweh grounds the promise in Abraham’s faithful obedience:

I swear by myself, declares Yahweh, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.

But my point is simply this. Abraham is superlatively praised for his remarkable obedience to the divine word, and this is remembered years later in the narrative (Gen 26:5). Middleton tries to downplay this praise by suggesting that it is muted at best. Middleton believes that the Abraham narrative is best understood as a test of the patriarch’s discernment of God’s character rather than a test of his trust in the promises of God, come what may.

Is the God of Abraham simply one of the pagan deities of Mesopotamia or Canaan who requires child sacrifice as a symbol of allegiance … . Or is he different, a God of mercy and love for his children, who was even willing to forgo judgment on Sodom for the sake of the righteous? That was something Abraham should have learned in chapter 18, so he could pass it on to his own children. But he didn’t. The lesson was cut short—by Abraham himself.²⁰Middleton, Abraham’s Silence, 33–34.

So in Genesis 22 Abraham becomes known as a fearer of God instead of a lover of Isaac, since the latter is omitted from the divine praise. This would be like a professor giving a C to a student for an essay instead of an A. The text, however, will not agree with such an assessment. Abraham gets an A+ !

As a result of his interpretation, Middleton reads the conclusion to the story and the resulting episodes as evidence of total family dysfunction. Isaac does not leave with Abraham, and they never meet again in the subsequent narrative. Isaac has only a “bit” part in that narrative, as Jacob and Joseph become major protagonists. This family dysfunction is carried down into the family as Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery because of internecine strife.²¹Middleton, Abraham’s Silence, 117. This is more eisegesis than exegesis. In fact Isaac hears his father’s act of faith praised in Philistia (Gen 26:5), and his future wife hears the divine praise of Abraham reverberating in her ears as she leaves Mesopotamia to become a feminine Abraham (24:60).

Abraham’s silence is far from tragic; it is in fact heroic, as it shows a settled faith in the goodness and promises of God, even though they seem as good as dead! What a contrast with the first couple in the Garden!

But it is a mistake to consider this episode without the larger narrative of Abraham, and also the larger narrative of Scripture, a fact made clear even in the text, because a later editor ties the story into the cult history of Israel: “Even to this day it is said, that on the mountain of the Lord it will be provided” (Gen 22:14). This connects the story with the temple site in Jerusalem.²²The mountain of the LORD is Zion as found, e.g., in Isaiah 2:1–5, Psalm 2. Cf. Gen 22:3 and 2 Chr 5:1–3. Similarly as Stanley Walters has shown, careful readers of the Torah will see its reverberations in the sacrificial offerings in Leviticus and the Day of Atonement. Rather than being a tragic missed opportunity, Abraham’s act in Genesis 22 becomes a model and a foundational act for Israelite faith. He trusted in God even in the face of utter and incomprehensible contradiction. And for the first time it says of Abraham’s seed that it will possess the gate of its enemies. Perhaps this echoes the earlier “the one who curses you will be cursed” or, more relevantly, that the seed of the woman will defeat the seed of the serpent (3:15). Interestingly, one of the rare times the linguistic expression, “I will surely multiply” (הַרְבָּה אַרְבֶּה), occurs is in 3:16 when Yahweh multiplies Eve’s suffering in childbearing. As Jon Levenson observes, this may suggest that “Abraham’s unstinting conformity to the horrendous command of his God counteracts ‘Man’s First Disobedience,’ the sin of eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.”²³Jon D. Levenson, The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son: The Transformation of Child Sacrifice in Judaism and Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), 140.

It is therefore no accident that early Christian interpreters have seen in this story a prefiguration of Jesus of Nazareth walking up the mountain of Calvary, unlike Isaac, finally too weak to carry the wood anymore.²⁴E.g., Irenaeus, Against Heresies 4.5.4; John Chrysostom, Homilies on Hebrews 25. Unlike Isaac, he does not ask his father, “Look—the fire and the knife, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” For he knows only too well the identity of the lamb. It is his death that will conquer the gates of his enemy. Abraham thus got a glimpse into that coming sacrifice, in which God the Father of all would not spare his own son but deliver him up for us all (Rom 8:32). Perhaps it was at this point that Abraham saw Jesus’s day and was glad (John 8:56).

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