To
turn to a book sub-titled “The story of a story” with many of
the ideas of Pádraig
Ó
Tuama's In the Shelter still fresh in my mind seemed a right move –
so much of what Pádraig
shares is about the power of story. That there is very little
ability to understand the world, or our place within it, without
attending to stories.
I
think that Goodman gives us a really important book, you know that I
read a lot and yet this is one of the few books which I think is
actually transformative. It is 250 pages, by no means long, but
packed full of ideas, it is so rich.
The
story is that of Abraham's (almost) sacrifice of his son Isaac. It is
about 19 verses of Genesis. A short story but a big story.
Isaac's
question “Here is the fire and the wood but where is the sheep for
the offering?” are for me some of the most harrowing words in
scripture, words that haunt me.
I
have wrestled with it mostly within the context of reflections on
Good Friday, probably a typical Christian encounter with the story –
and so to approach it with the (secular) Jewish starting point of
Goodman was to come to it afresh.
If
this was just a book about that one story it would be interesting,
well worth reading, and I will go on later to reflect more on what it
says about that story, but in many ways these 19 verses are just a
case study for an exploration which can be applied to Scripture in
general. That you can write this much (and this in fact is little
more than the abstract of what has been written) about these verses
is proof about the endlessly contestable nature of the meaning of
Scripture. (And that is even after you have decided it is Scripture
with a capital S).
One
of the frustrations about the way the phrase “Bible-Believing” is
monopolised as a self-description by a certain party within the
Church it that is assumes that what it is to “believe” the Bible
is a simple and easily defined thing. And one of the things that I
am grateful to Goodman for is exploding that myth. He shows the
astounding range of beliefs that have been held about just 19 verses,
and from that you when you then think about the Bible as a whole the
idea that there is “a” meaning that can be believed surely can
not be countenanced.
But
I also think Goodman offers an important challenge to many of those
who would fall into a bracket of “liberals” and who have a
tendency to ignore any passage of Scripture that is uncomfortable.
The process of formation of texts and the delimiting of the canon of
Scripture was clearly complex – but I think that if we want to
maintain that any of Scripture is worth attending too, and of course
there are plenty who would dismiss the lot, but if we think any of
Scripture is worthwhile we have to deal with the whole. That doesn't
mean that we treat it all equally, but we must have some kind of
relationship with it all.
Which
perhaps brings us back around to the particular story. At the heart
of Goodman's search I think are two key questions; What kind of God
would ask a man to sacrifice their Son? and, What kind of man would
follow that command? There is no easy answer to either question...
As a
Christian there is an echoing on John 3:16, here Abraham loved God so
much he was willing to give his only Son, and in it there root of a
third question, What kind of God sacrifices their Son on the Cross?
Many
take issue with Stuart Townend's hymn, In Christ Alone, for the line
“Till on that cross as Jesus died, The wrath of God was satisfied”,
refusing to accept the “wrath of God” as an explanation of the
Cross. And some change the words so instead we sing “as Jesus died,
The love of God was satisfied”. While I am personally doubtful
about wrath (and the theology of penal substitution that it implies)
I find I have even greater difficulty with the alternative – what
are we to make of a Love that needs to be satisfied, needs to be
satisfied by a brutal humiliating death?
There
are parts of Goodman's book that bring you face to face with these
questions and moments which made me question my faith. An
uncomfortable experience, but not necessarily a negative one.
Like
Jacob wrestling in the night with a man/angel/god we to must wrestle
– and afterwards Jacob asks the man their name, but he doesn't get
an answer. I think perhaps we live in a world that is too focused on
answers – we have forgotten what it is to wrestle with unknowing.
One
of the themes Goodman explores is the role (or absence) of Sarah in
this story – she is a big character in most of the events of
Abraham's life, a fellow traveller with him on his journey with God
(some might suggest the Matriarchal character of Jewish identity
might hint that Abraham was in fact a fellow traveller on her
journey) . And so while women are under represented generally within
the Bible, her absence here is particularly pronounced.
I
write this just a day or two before it is Winchester's turn (along
with Portsmouth and Salisbury Dioceses) to engage in the Church of
England Shared Conversations about Sexuality. And this book speaks
to that because much of the Conversations are not really about
sex/sexuality but about our relationship with Scripture. Rather than
bashing each other over the head with rival interpretations we need a
bit more collective humility about what we can claim to know about
the word of God (let alone the mind or will of God).
I
have been sat here trying to think of a concluding remark, but I
think the very nature of what Goodman shares is that the story of the
story is open-ended and therefore rather than a conclusion all that
you can offer is ...
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