I am my mother’s favourite child. It’s a bold statement but I know with a hundred per cent certainty that it is true. How can I be so sure? Plain and simple: I am her only child. And – to be honest – that fact aside I wouldn’t know it. For most of my life spent in the family home, there was only hard training; nowadays my Mum would probably be called a tiger mum. There was very little of the spoiling we commonly associate with bringing up an only child. Only having left home and started my adult life was I able to appreciate my Mum’s commitment and efforts. Her training laid very solid foundations for my whole life. The extent to which I am spoiled now is all my own doing and a rather sorry achievement. So, I don’t have a personal experience of the common belief that an only child is a spoilt child. On the other hand, if such a belief is so widely spread, I guess there is a grain of truth in it…
Today’s readings tell us two remarkably similar stories. In fact, the story of Abraham is often seen as the prefiguration of Jesus’ sacrifice. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. As we know, Abraham faced a dramatic choice between his obedience to God and his son Isaac. Losing a child is absolutely tragic for any parent; killing your own child is just beyond the pale. Of course, we have heard reports of abusive or murderous parents; but such occurrences are exceptions to the rule and, thankfully, very rare. To understand how much more difficult was the challenge that Abraham must have faced we have to remember that he had his son in his later years and that Isaac was his sole chance to leave a legacy – something extremely important for the people of that culture.
These days we occasionally hear about honour killing; a situation when a father, with the family’s approval, murders his child, usually a female, for dishonouring the family. However abhorrent, there’s a perverse logic to that. But Isaac was innocent; there was no guilt and thus there should have been no subsequent punishment. We can only try to imagine how tormented and torn Abraham was. He was asked to sacrifice his only, long-awaited son; the light of his old age, the joy of his last days, the fulfilment of his life-long desire. The one that Abraham would have given his life for; but it was to be the other way round. He was to take his son’s life in obedience to God. We might admire Abraham’s faith and obedience because we know how the story ended: ‘and they lived happily ever after…’ But neither Abraham nor Isaac enjoyed such an advantage.
This is the point where the message of this gruesome – in its initial stages – story can find its way into our lives. There have been plenty of books and sermons devoted to the theological meaning of the story. I cannot add anything new and meaningful to that pile. However, there is a certain aspect of this story that might chime well with our everyday lives and can be particularly timely in Lent. I imagine – and there are hints of that in the Bible – that Abraham became overly attached to his son Isaac for understandable reasons, which I have mentioned earlier on. Such a bond can develop into an obsessive relationship that blinds us or diminishes our judgment. It doesn’t exclusively apply to people; we can develop such an unhealthy affinity with material things or ideas. Your shiny car, your bank balance, your fondness for various pleasures, a militant pursuit of certain lifestyles… The list can be infinitely long. What’s more, those people, things or ideas we are obsessively attached to don’t have to be bad, harmful or sinful. They can be perfectly legitimate, good and even beneficial in their own right. But the way we allow them to take over and run our lives can be dangerous, harmful or even sinful. When Abraham was asked to sacrifice his only son Isaac, he was given a chance of liberation. It was his decision to make and that’s why it was liberating. Had Abraham been forced it would have broken his heart. Consequently, Isaac benefitted too, being freed from his overbearing and overprotective father.
That leaves each one of us with a question of personal discernment: is there anything in my life that needs cutting out, or cutting down, or trimming? What makes you shiver when you consider losing it? Would you give it to God knowing that He might accept your sacrifice and not return it to you? These are tough questions, and they require even tougher answers. But only when we have let them confront us, have discerned them seriously and acted upon our discernment can we acquire genuine freedom. Then we can make the best possible use of everything that life offers without being enslaved by it.
Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay