The Messianic Mission of Jesus (The Kingdom of God, part 5)

This is the fifth installment of an article on the Kingdom of God.

Part 1 began with Jesus’s proclamation at the start of his ministry about the kingdom of God. Part 2 looked at Jesus’s sermon at Nazareth, in which he explained the nature of the kingdom he was inaugurating.

Part 3 shifted to the biblical backstory of the kingdom, beginning with the royal calling of humanity created to image God, including how we squandered our calling through sin and violence, culminating in the tower of Babel. Part 4 traced the story of Israel from Abraham to the Babylonian exile, with a focus on the theme of “rule” (power and agency).

Against the backdrop of the kingdom of God in the Old Testament, the current installment picks up the story with the ministry and mission of Jesus, leading to his confrontation with the powers in Jerusalem at Passover.

The Rise of Messianic Expectation

Israelite prophets during and after the Babylonian exile began to articulate an expectation of renewal for God’s people, which intensified as the first century approached. God was going to bring about a new age of righteousness and justice for Israel and for the entire world.

As the Isaiah passage Jesus quoted at Nazareth made clear (see part 2 of this multi-part blog post), the prophetic vision of social and personal healing that arose in the exile remained unfulfilled even after Israel was back in the land. Isaiah 58 and 61 both addressed the moral state of the people, which had not changed; they continued to be embroiled in sin and disobedience to God. So beyond the bare fact of return to the land, the rest of the prophets’ vision of restoration had not yet come to pass.

It was this lack of fulfillment that generated messianic hope in the centuries leading up to the New Testament. The term Messiah (lit. anointed one) is derived from the fact that the kings of Israel were anointed for their leadership role (1 Samuel 9:26–10:1; 1 Samuel 16:12–13). The hope for a Messiah (a royal leader, in the lineage of David) arose out of the obvious failure of the Israelite monarchy in combination with God’s promise that the people would once again have righteous leaders.

The dominant messianic expectation was of a new Davidic king who would unify the nation and cast off Roman oppression, yet ideas about the coming Messiah were actually quite varied: would there be one or two leaders (one royal, the other priestly); would the agent of God’s coming rule be human, angelic, or divine?

Despite this variety there was a consistent expectation that one day God would establish his righteous rule both in Israel and throughout the world. The coming of this kingdom would eradicate evil and restore justice for God’s people and among all the nations. Indeed, the entire cosmos would be renewed, such that this coming age could rightly be called “a new heaven and a new earth” (Isaiah 65:17–25).

Jesus’s Confrontation with the Powers of Evil

It was this expectation for a radical reorientation of the world that set the stage for the ministry of Jesus, including his proclamation that the kingdom of God was at hand, his teaching about the kingdom (often in parables), and his embodying the kingdom in his healings, his exorcisms, and his forgiving of sins. Jesus both announced and demonstrated that the powers of evil were being overthrown, that God’s rule was coming.

But the powers of evil are never easily overthrown. Jesus encountered opposition throughout his ministry, which led to his crucifixion by a coalition of Roman and Jewish leaders, who considered him a threat to the status quo. Jesus was not, however, a passive victim of his opponents. His entire life and ministry were oriented towards this deathly confrontation.

The Messiah’s Destiny of Suffering

After three years of his public ministry, Jesus asked his disciples who they thought he was. When Peter confessed that he was “the Messiah of God” (Luke 9:20), Jesus explained that his destiny (in contrast to most messianic expectation of the time) was not immediate victory over the powers of evil. His destiny was suffering and rejection at the hands of “the elders, chief priests, and scribes,” resulting in his death—followed by resurrection (Luke 9:22; this episode is recounted in Matthew 16:21–23; Mark 8:31–33; Luke 9:21–23).

Jesus understood that the Messiah’s destiny of the ultimate triumph over evil was grounded in his suffering on behalf of his people—a theme found in what are known as the servant songs of Isaiah. These prophetic poems, in that section of the book written during the Babylonian exile (Isaiah 40–55), affirm that Israel is God’s servant (Isaiah 41:8; 49:3), whose mission is to bring light to the nations and to establish justice throughout the earth (Isaiah 42:1, 4, 6). This understanding of Israel as God’s servant draws on God’s promise that through Abraham and his descendants blessing would come to all the families of the earth (Genesis 12:1–3).

Yet in Isaiah’s servant songs, Israel is said to be a blind and deaf servant who does not understand or obey God’s purposes (Isaiah 42:19–20), This leads to a distinction between the servant and Israel in some texts; there the mission of the servant of YHWH is to bring light not only to the nations, but also to Israel (Isaiah 49:5–6).

While Isaiah 50 mentions briefly that the servant will suffer before his vindication by God (Isa 50:5–8), this theme is explored in depth in Isaiah 52:13–53:12, the so-called Suffering Servant song. The New Testament understands this vivid portrayal of the servant’s suffering to be fulfilled in Jesus, understood as the representative of Israel (Matthew 8:14-17; Luke 22:35–38; John 12:37–41; Acts 8:26–35; Romans 10:11–21; 1 Peter 2:19–25).

Jesus Sets Out for Jerusalem

Soon after Jesus predicted his suffering and death, he set out to meet his destiny. Perhaps alluding to Isaiah’s servant who “set [his] face like flint” to endure opposition (Isa 50:7), Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51).

As he journeyed toward Jerusalem, stopping in other places on the way, he twice more reminded his disciples of his coming death (first in Matt 17:22–23; Mark 9:30–32; Luke 9:43–45; then in Matthew 20:17–19; Mark 10:32–34; Luke 18:31–34); this was clearly on his mind.

In each case, his disciples found this difficult to comprehend; wouldn’t this mean the defeat of the Messiah? Even after Jesus reached Jerusalem, he again reminded them of his destiny (Matthew 26:1–2).

Jesus and the New Exodus

Not only did Jesus intentionally embrace his destiny, he chose the timing of it to coincide with the festival of Passover, when pilgrims were flocking to Jerusalem to celebrate the exodus from Egyptian bondage. But no-one in Jerusalem would have focused simply on that event in the past. Isaiah 40–55 had already viewed Babylon as a new Egypt and the return from Babylonian exile as a new exodus. The city would have been rife with expectation: would God act again to free his people from the latest incarnation of Egypt and Babylon?

Some centuries before Jesus, the Persians had conquered the Babylon empire and allowed exiled Jews (inhabitants of Judah) to return to their homeland; so technically the exile was over. But after Babylon’s defeat, Judah (now known as Yehud) became a province of Persia, After that came the Greek empire, and finally the Romans—all of whom continued to subject the land and people of Israel to imperial domination. It would have been impossible for Jews in Jesus’s day to separate the message of the exodus of old from the need to be liberated from Roman oppression. A new exodus was called for.

Continuing Bondage and Exile

The idea that Israel was still in bondage—even after return to the land—is expressed in the anguished prayer of Ezra, the Jewish scribe and priest, during the early postexilic period:

“Here we are, slaves to this day, slaves in the land that you gave to our ancestors to enjoy its fruit and its good gifts. Its rich yield goes to the kings whom you have set over us because of our sins; they have power also over our bodies and over our livestock at their pleasure, and we are in great distress.” (Nehemiah 9:36–37; see also Ezra 9:8–9)

The Babylonian exile was over, but the bondage to foreign empires continued unabated.

The problem, however, was not simply the external oppression of empires. The internal problem of sin had to be dealt with. The prophets had declared that the Babylonian conquest and the ensuing exile was a consequence of Israel’s disobedience to God (Jeremiah 32:28–35; Isaiah 42:24–25; 43:27–28). This was a fundamental difference between Egyptian bondage (which was not attributed to Israel’s sin) and the Babylonian exile (which was).

Ezra himself combined recognition of continuing national bondage with the people’s ongoing sinfulness. “From the days of our ancestors to this day we have been deep in guilt, and for our iniquities we, our kings, and our priests have been handed over to the kings of the lands, to the sword, to captivity, to plundering, and to utter shame, as is now the case” (Ezra 9:7).

Now, even back in the land, the moral state of the people remained unchanged; their sin still had to be dealt with.

As we shall see in the next installment, the problem of Israel’s bondage was greater than either the external oppression by empires or the internal sinfulness of the people.

What Did Jesus Mean by the Kingdom of God? (The Kingdom of God, part 2)

In my last post, I addressed the reversal of power dynamics in the kingdom of God that Jesus proclaimed. But beyond that, what did Jesus mean by this term?

The Nazareth Manifesto

To understand Jesus’s use of the term “kingdom of God,” it is helpful to turn to Luke’s Gospel, which does not use the term “kingdom of God” in Jesus’s opening message. Along with Matthew and Mark (the other Synoptic Gospels), Luke tells us about Jesus’s baptism by John (Matthew 3:13–17; Mark 1:9–11; Luke 3:21–22), followed by his temptation in the wilderness (Matthew 4: 1–11; Mark 1:12–13; Luke 4:1–13). Then all three Gospel writers note that Jesus returns to Galilee and begins his preaching (Matthew 4:12–16; Mark 1:14; Luke 4: 14–15).

But whereas in Matthew and Mark, Jesus announces the coming of the kingdom in a short, succinct statement (Matthew 4:17; Mark 1:15), Luke has an extended account of a synagogue message that Jesus delivered in Nazareth, his hometown (Luke 4:16–30), without, however, any explicit mention of the kingdom.

Yet we know that Jesus was expounding on the nature of the kingdom in Luke’s account, since a bit later Luke notes that after Nazareth, Jesus moved on to Capernaum, another town in Galilee. And when he was about to leave Galilee to continue his mission in the province of Judea, Jesus explained: “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose” (Luke 4:43). In other words, Luke’s account of Jesus’s sermon in Nazareth is an example of his preaching about the kingdom of God.

It is likely that Luke gives us this more extended example of Jesus’s preaching instead of the succinct summary about the “kingdom” found in Matthew and Mark because he wanted to clarify the nature of the kingdom of God (a distinctively Jewish concept) to non-Jewish readers. Luke addressed his Gospel to “most excellent Theophilus,” who may have been a high-ranking gentile (Luke 1:1–4).

The way Jesus unpacks the nature of the kingdom in Luke 4, then, is particularly helpful for us—living in the twenty-first century—in cultures very different from first-century Galilee.

After his testing in the wilderness, Jesus began teaching in the synagogues of Galilee (Luke 4:14–15). When he arrived in his hometown, Nazareth, he attended the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom (Luke 4:16). He stood up to read the Scripture and was handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He opened the scroll to Isaiah 61 and read these words:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
       because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives,
       and recovery of sight to the blind,
       to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. (Luke 4:18–19)

Quoting Isaiah

The Scripture Luke quotes Jesus reading is Isaiah 61:1 and part of verse 2, with a line inserted from Isaiah 58:6 (“to let the oppressed go free”). In their original context, both Isaiah 61 and 58 were addressed to those Jews who had returned to their ancestral land, after having experienced exile in Babylon. Following a devastating series of attacks by the Babylonian empire in the late sixth century, which killed many Jews and destroyed the city of Jerusalem—along with the temple, the center of Jewish religious life—the Babylonians took a portion of the remaining population into exile, relocating them in the center of the empire.

Now, after a hiatus of nearly seventy years, as a result of a regime change (Babylon was conquered by the Persians), some Jews had returned to their homeland. Yet their society was still in shambles, characterized by internal injustice and oppression. Speaking in a post-exilic context, to those who had returned to the land, the prophet announced the “good news” of a new era (“the year of the Lord’s favor”) when God will act decisively on behalf of the poor, releasing captives, restoring sight to those who are blind, and setting the oppressed free.

Why does Jesus draw on this passage? And what did he mean by these phrases: “good news to the poor,” “release to the captives,” “recovery of sight to the blind” and “to let the oppressed go free”? In what way do these actions signify “the year of the Lord’s favor”? And how do they clarify the nature of the kingdom of God, which is being fulfilled in Jesus’ ministry?

The Problem of Spiritualizing Jesus’s Message

It has been very common for Christians through the ages to spiritualize Jesus’s Nazareth sermon, reducing the message to one of freeing people from internal captivity (bondage to sin) and spiritual blindness. Even the term “poor” in “good news to the poor” has been understood to mean those who were “poor in spirit” (aware of their “spiritual” needs).

Now, Jesus certainly did bring internal restoration (the forgiveness of sins) and a fundamental reorientation of values; this is clear from his call to repentance—radical change is required to be aligned with God’s kingdom. But to reduce Jesus’s message at Nazareth (or the meaning of God’s kingdom) solely to something internal is to misread his words in terms of an unbiblical value distinction of sacred/secular, spiritual/physical, or personal/social.

This framework, derived from later Christian tradition, which downplays outward action and the importance of social realities in relation to the importance of the inner person (the “soul”), is often imposed on the text from the outside. But no-one in Jesus’s day would have understood his words in this sense.

This spiritualizing interpretation is blown out of the water by the phrase “to let the oppressed go free,” which is taken from a prophetic passage in Isaiah 58:1–14. Here the prophet pointedly challenges landowners and others with power who exploit their workers (which included withholding their wages); yet these powerful people attend religious ceremonies and perform religious rituals (like fasting), while continuing to act unjustly towards others (their religious rituals even end, the prophet says, in quarreling and fighting).

Biblical Spirituality and Justice

This passage is one of many in the Old Testament that critique those who attempt to practice a form of religion (or spirituality) that is contradicted by their actual way of life. By contrast, Isaiah 58 describes the form of spirituality that pleases God.

Is not this the kind of “fasting” I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
      and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
      and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry
      and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
      and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
(Isaiah 58:6–7)

These are concrete actions to remedy social injustice, which involve meeting the real needs of actual people. Isaiah 58 goes on to promise that if the people fulfill God’s requirements for justice with their neighbors, then the social order will be healed:

Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
      you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
      the restorer of streets to live in. (Isaiah 58:12)

A similar statement is found in Isaiah 61, just two verses after the section Jesus quotes: 

They shall build up the ancient ruins,
      they shall raise up the former devastations;
They shall repair the ruined cities,
      the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

The Kingdom and Social Transformation

It makes sense that Jesus (or Luke) connected Isaiah 61 and 58; both have to do with social renewal in postexilic Judah. So the insertion of Isaiah 58:6 at the end of Isaiah 61:1 further affirms the this-worldly nature of the kingdom Jesus was proclaiming.

Both Isaiah 61 and 58 were addressed to the dysfunctional social reality of post-exilic Israel and envision a new social order in which justice would be restored. Jesus draws on this message in his Nazareth sermon, applying it his own day, since centuries later Israel was still in a similar situation. Beyond Roman oppression, Jewish society was full of political jockeying and economic inequalities. But Jesus announced that things are about to change—the kingdom of God is coming! This kingdom refers, most fundamentally, to a world conformed to God’s standards, where that which is broken is healed and society is ordered according to God’s priorities of justice, generosity, and love.

But where did this idea of the kingdom of God come from? What are its roots, its origin?

That’s the topic for the next post.

This is the second installment of a longer piece I am writing on the Kingdom of God for a volume of essays introducing Christianity to a broad, international audience (to be published by Routledge). Part 3 may be found here.

What Abraham Might Have Said: An Alternative to Abraham’s Silence in Genesis 22

My book Abraham’s Silence: The Binding of Isaac, the Suffering of Job, and How to Talk Back to God (Baker Academic, 2021) was published just over a year ago.

I am grateful for the many people—scholars, clergy, and lay people—who have engaged my argument that Abraham’s attempt to sacrifice Isaac should not be viewed as positive. As many reviewers have noted, my argument isn’t meant to be iconoclastic or trendy. Rather, I tried to show on biblical grounds (both from the overall context of Scripture and from detailed attention to Genesis 22) why we should question whether Abraham’s response to God was appropriate.

Not everyone has been convinced by my argument. But I have been deeply honored by how many people have taken the book seriously and interacted with it, whether in blog posts, journal reviews, or Facebook messages and emails. And I am gratified that even when readers haven’t been convinced of my interpretation of Genesis 22, most have found my overall argument about the biblical model of vigorous prayer (and especially my exposition of the book of Job in chapters 3 and 4) to be helpful.

This serious engagement (along with disagreement) was on display at the panel discussion of Abraham’s Silence at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) in Denver, on November 21, 2022.

I am extremely thankful for the six panelists, who graciously interacted with the book and raised important questions about many aspects of my argument.

The panel was jointly sponsored by two SBL program units: The Theology of the Hebrew Scriptures and The National Association of Professors of Hebrew.

Panelists for SBL Discussion of Abraham’s Silence.

We had six biblical scholars on the panel—Shai Held, Rachel Adelman, Marv Sweeney, Carmen Imes, Rebekah Eklund, and Brittany Kim. Since Brittany came down with COVID during the conference, Megan Roberts kindly read her paper.

We made sure to have a wide variety of panelists, Jewish and Christian; male and female; established, mid-career, and relatively new scholars.

My Response to the Panelists

Instead of responding to every question posed by the panelists (since they covered so much ground), I focused on clarifying even further (beyond what I said in the book) the rationale for my interpretation of the Aqedah, particularly the core of my argument that Abraham’s response was less than optimal.

To that end I gave further evidence for Abraham’s lack of love for Isaac (which even Sarah recognized), such that it would make no sense to think that the test was whether he was more committed to God than to his son.

Middleton Giving Panel Response (photo curtesy of Jill Firth)

I emphasized (much more than I did in the book) that it is almost impossible to go beyond the constraints of the traditional reading of Genesis 22, given how powerfully the history of interpretation exerts pressure upon readers of the text.

It is almost impossible, but not quite. However, it does require readers to be self-aware of when they are actually doing exegesis and not simply falling into the default interpretation because it seems “obvious.”

I spent most of my response in giving a fuller explanation of why I thought that the angel speeches did not validate Abraham’s response, but rather articulated God’s gracious compensation for Abraham’s failure (or, to put it less harshly, his less than adequate response to the test).

But Doesn’t the New Testament Exalt Abraham for His Response to God in Genesis 22?

In my response paper, I also touched on the question of why the New Testament (especially Hebrews 11 and James 2) views Abraham’s response to God positively (this is the most common question I receive from Christian readers about Abraham’s Silence).

Although my comments here were very brief, I pointed out that whatever we think of Hebrews 11, other passages in Hebrews clearly affirm the validity of lament both in the life of Jesus and in the life of believers.

Hebrews 5 notes that: “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence” (Hebrews 5:7). This is the sort of reverence or fear of God that is fully compatible with vigorous grappling.

And Hebrews 4 encourages the reader with these words: “Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). So however we take the affirmation of Abraham in Hebrews 11, this is clearly not an epistle that endorses silent submission to God.

Given the need to address the above issue, I plan to write an article that examines the explicit and implicit references to the Aqedah in the New Testament; this will be in the context of trying to understand how the New Testament typically appeals to the Old Testament.

What Abraham Might Have Said: The Aqedah in an Alternative Timeline

I concluded my response by reading a “script” that I wrote of what Abraham might have said to God in place of the silent obedience recorded in Genesis 22 (we could think of it as the Aqedah in an alternative timeline).

In some ways, thinking of what Abraham might have said is the best argument against his silent attempt to sacrifice his son.

My thanks to Bill Brown of Columbia Theological Seminary, who inquired if I had written such a script. Back on October 5, he wrote:

What would it be like to rewrite Genesis 22 in the way that you would conceive it with Abraham passing the “test” with flying colors? Do you have a script for that? If not, you should have! (Wouldn’t that be fun to present at your panel review?)  

His request prodded me to write it that very afternoon and then send it to him. He used the script in one of his classes the following day. It is amazing how requests from others can often be writing prompts.

I have inserted biblical references within the script (below) where I have drawn on language from elsewhere in Scripture. Most of the references are to Moses’s bold prayer at the golden calf in Exodus 32.

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After these things, God tested Abraham. He said, “Abraham.”

His faithful servant answered, “Here I am.”

“Take your son,” said the Lord, “your only one—whom you love—Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him up as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I will show you.”

And Abraham was dumbfounded.

Was this God speaking? The God he had come to know?

Abraham knew there were many gods, as many as the peoples of all the lands he had traveled through—from Ur in Mesopotamia to Haran in Aram to the towns and cities of Canaan. And many of them required child sacrifice as a sign of devotion.

But could his God be asking this too? He thought he had been coming to know the character of the one called El Shaddai—that this One was different from the gods of the nations.

Could God really mean for him to kill his own son? Why? What would it prove? How could this be God’s will?

Abraham was shell shocked—and silent for a time.

**********************************

But then he plucked up his courage and with the chutzpah that would come to be recognized as emblematic of the later people descended from him, Abraham spoke up. At first his voice was quavering.

Ah, Lord God, he said. Are you really asking me to kill this young, innocent lad?

Do you really want me to live with the everlasting memory of his blood on my hands? Do you want to subject me to a lifetime of nightmares and flashbacks of me taking a knife to his young neck? Do you really want to do this to me?

Have mercy, Lord.

I know that I have not been close to this boy, not nearly as close as to my firstborn, Ishmael. That boy I loved, and you forced me to send him away.

Now you want me to kill the only son I have left.

Isaac was always Sarah’s favorite. Do you know what this will do to her? She will die too—if not physically, then she will die inside.

She and I already have problems between us, because of Hagar and Ishmael. I know it was her idea; but it backfired. Sarah is already distant from me. Do you want to drive us further apart?

But if you don’t have pity on me or my wife, Lord, have pity on the boy! He has done nothing to deserve this. Why should his life be cut short just to show my dedication to you?

Do you want his last memory to be of me, his father, tying him down like a sheep for slaughter and then taking a butcher knife to his neck? You can’t want that, Lord!

Are you angry with me? Why does your wrath burn hot against me, the one you brought out of Ur of the Chaldees and out of Haran, to this land? [Exodus 32:11] What have I done to so offend you, Master of the Universe?

Plus, you made a promise to me and to Sarah, that through this boy our descendants would become a great nation. What will become of your promise then?

No—I am going to hold you to your word, Lord. I have told many of the peoples of this land, whom I have met, of what you pledged to do through the line of Isaac.

But if they hear of this, that you have commanded his death—for whatever reason—do you know how that will look?  It will reflect badly on you.

The Philistines and the Egyptians (whose kings I deceived that Sarah was my sister) will hear of it and they will think that it was with evil intent that you gave me this boy—only to kill him on the mountains and to consume him from the face of the earth. [Exodus 32:12a]

**********************************

And then Abraham was silent, wondering if he had overstepped his bounds.

He remembered that when he had pled for Sodom, he modulated his boldness, admitting that he was just dust and ashes. [Genesis 18:27] And he twice asked God not to be angry with him for interceding for that evil people. [Genesis 18:30, 32a]

His boldness came from his concern for Lot and his family, living in Sodom. What would become of them if God destroyed that evil city?

He had asked God to save the city if there could be found fifty innocent people there. God agreed. So he asked for forty-five, then forty; then thirty, then twenty. [Genesis 18:24–31] But he stopped at ten. [Genesis 18:32] He didn’t have the courage to ask God to save the city for less than that.

But Lot and his family were eight at the most. At the time he didn’t think he could push God quite that far. It seemed like asking for too much.

**********************************

But now, what did he have to lose?

So Abraham dug deep and found his courage and his voice again. He cried out:

I know I am far from innocent. Lord, take me instead of my son. But, whatever you do, do not kill this innocent boy.

Will you really sweep away the innocent with the wicked? [Genesis 18:23]

Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the innocent with the wicked, so that the innocent fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just? [Genesis 18:25]

No Lord. I plead with you: change your mind. Turn from your fierce wrath and do not bring this evil upon your chosen one! [Exodus 32:12b]

And the Lord changed his mind about the evil he was about to bring on Isaac. [Exodus 32:14]

And God spoke from heaven, saying:

Well done, good and faithful servant. [Matthew 25:23]

You have understood that I am, indeed, a God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, showing love to thousands. [Exodus 34:6-7a]

Indeed, I desire mercy and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings. [Hosea 6:6; Matthew 9:13]

But what good would it do to just tell you that? What would those mere words mean to you?

But by your bold intercession for your son you have attained true knowledge of the God you serve.

Indeed, you dared to call on me to be faithful to my promise. That demonstrated your trust in me. And trust is better than blind submission.

So, yes, Abraham, I have granted your request. Isaac is redeemed by your prayer.

Go in peace and enjoy life with your wife, Sarah, and your son, whom you are beginning to love.

And then God departed from his servant Abraham.

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It wasn’t clear before Abraham’s intercession that he had much love for Isaac.

But now, having stood up for him, defending him against God’s seeming desire to slay him, a few sparks of love began to flow between father and son.

And Abraham began to nurture that love and fan the sparks into a fire—with the hope that his family might be healed.

And Abraham’s taught his children and his household the way of the Lord. [Genesis 18:19] His descendants were known from then on for their surpassing mercy and generosity to all the families of the earth. Indeed, they were a blessing to all nations. [Genesis 12:3]

You can download the full script here.