Introduction
Allow me to begin my reflections in this chapter with personal memories concerning the story of Abrahamâs sacrifice of Isaac as recounted in Genesis 22:1â19. Following convention, I shall refer to this account as âthe Akedahâ (the Hebrew for âbindingâ). When reading this story, I often recall the print of Rembrandtâs âSacrifice of Isaacâ that my late father, Masao, who devoted his life to Old Testament studies and Christian evangelism, hung in his study. Though it was an eerie painting to me as a child, as I grew and came to understand its meaning, I could not accept that I might have been killed for the sake of my fatherâs faith. I eventually left home to pursue Old Testament studies in Munich. Whenever I viewed the original of this painting during visits to the Alte Pinakothek, which was diagonally across from my dormitory, I was left dissatisfied. People should view it from Isaacâs perspective, I thought. Looking back, however, I realize that since I am my fatherâs third-born son there would in fact have been no obligation or right for me to have been offered up in the firstborn sacrifice. My father might have hung this painting as a memorial to his firstborn son, whom he lost shortly after birth in the midst of hardships while dedicating himself to evangelism. I did not have the opportunity to confirm this while my father was alive, but that is what I now think. Whatever the case, the story of this father who almost committed filicide is, for a son, terrifying.
Yet it seems that there is a general abundance of interpretations lavishly praising Abraham, who was on the verge of killing his son, without considering Isaacâs plight. The prime example is SĂśren Kierkegaardâs Fear and Trembling. I would like to begin my interpretation of this baffling text, which is so tied up with my own personal memories, by considering whether his interpretation hits upon the nub of the text.
1 An Evaluation of Kierkegaardâs Interpretation
1.1 Kierkegaardâs Interpretation
Let us briefly review the interpretation of the Akedah in Fear and Trembling.
Kierkegaard praises Abraham as a âknight of faithâ in that âeven after he sacrificed his own will he held on to it firmly,â âhe was a man who hoped for the impossible,â and âhe was a man who believed God.â Someone who merely relinquishes the finite for the infinite is a âknight of infinite resignation,â but someone who, after relinquishing it, is able to make the âdouble movementâ of regaining what he has lost through the âstrength of the absurdâ is a âknight of faith.â Kierkegaard indirectly accepts Kantâs categorical imperative. (1) He states that while the ethical is universal, it may lead to a âteleological suspension.â That is, from the standpoint of a higher religious objective, there are situations in which the ethical temporarily ceases to apply, such as when the ethically reprehensible act of killing a child becomes, under exceptional circumstances, religiously acceptable as a sacrificing of that child to Godâthat is Abrahamâs âparadox of faith.â (2) Kierkegaard expresses this as an âabsolute duty to Godâ and says that âin this tie of obligation the individual relates himself absolutely, as the single individual, to the absoluteâ and ârelinquishes the universal.â This is a âlonely path,â so (3) Abraham cannot be held ethically accountable for not divulging his intentions to Isaac and others. Rather, it is silence and secrecy that make a man truly great, and Abraham must be praised because he lived out this kind of faith that is âthe ultimate passion in man.â
The above is a bare-bones view of the portrayal of Abraham in Fear and Trembling.
1.2 Westermannâs Critique
From the perspective of Old Testament studies, a commentary by Claus Westermann has cast doubt on Kierkegaardâs interpretation. Kierkegaard was unaware of the problem of source layers, and so of course he could not even imagine literary-critical and redaction-critical problems arising from secondary additions and the like. Based among other reasons on the view that verses 15 â 18, which praise Abraham, are an addition from a later period, Westermann argues, however, as follows:
It is a misunderstanding of the narrative to hear it as the song of praise of a person ⌠It seems to me ⌠that when one refers the praise to Abraham (Kierkegaard), one has not understood the narrative ⌠The narrative looks not to the praise of a creature, but to the praise of God [who saw the suffering].
If we restrict ourselves to the original text, problems such as this arise in Kierkegaardâs interpretation. Yet is Westermannâs alternative conclusion satisfactory? Is praise of God the aim of this text?
1.3 Questions for Westermann
Let us reconsider now the God depicted in this text. Here, God is a god who commands bloody filicide (v. 2). Even if we suppose, with Kierkegaard, that God transcends the ethical and may require whatsoever he wishes, it is a contradictory god who on the one hand commands not to kill (Exod 20:13, etc.) and on the other commands filicide. What is more, perhaps God gave this command to test Abrahamâs obedience (vv. 1, 12), and perhaps it stemmed from Godâs jealousy of Isaac (Exod 34:14; Deut 4:24; 6:15; etc.). Furthermore, if it was âGodâs plan from the beginningâ that nothing happen to the child, as Westermann claims, and if Abraham believed all along that he would not lose Isaac, as Kierkegaard says, this is tantamount to Abraham seeing through this test by God from the outset. Although Westermann calls God the âGod who saw the suffering,â this is only natural because it was God himself who gave the suffering in the first place, so it is not clear why he merits praise for taking away the suffering at the appropriate moment.
From this perspective, it seems there is no need to agree with Westermannâs conclusion. Instead, we must confront the text with our candid questions on its portrayal of God and then listen to the textâs response. If, then, we wish to understand the history of interpretation on this issue, above and beyond theological works that presuppose Christian faith (including those of historical-critical Old Testament scholars), we can find sustained interest in these questions in statements by philosophers who do not presuppose faith. That is why examining âphilosophical interpretations of the sacrifice of Isaacâ is the focus of this chapter. In fact, besides Kierkegaard, the concept of God in the Akedah has stimulated the thinking of Kant and many other modern philosophers down to the present day. Below, let us take a critical look at several leading interpretations.
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