Abraham and Jephthah

Moving along through Vedic and Hindu tradition, Ahimsa and Buddhism, to their polar violent opposite Aztec human sacrifice, to the revealed religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam), the class I’ve been taking on religion and non-violence is getting really interesting. The texts are spare and leave lots of room for interpretation. Consider two: Jephthah (Judges 11) vows to God that if he is victorious in his war against the Ammonites, he’ll sacrifice the first thing that walks out of his house when he returns (it turns out of course to be his only child, a daughter and virgin, whom he sacrifices as promised and has no issue. What was he expecting to walk out of his house? A chicken?). The other is more well known: Abraham (Genesis 22) is told to sacrifice his only son Isaac, which he prepares to do, but his hand is stayed at the last minute by an angel.

The stories of Abraham and Jephthah both involve a test by the deity: will you obey me so far as to sacrifice your only child to me? Both men pass the test. Abraham’s perfect obedience is enough to prevent the death occurring. (This passage is interesting in what it omits: what’s Sarah’s opinion of all this? What’s Isaac’s?) In the mythological continuum that moves from the creation of Eve through the violent removal of Adam’s rib, through the destruction of the world by flooding save for a few chosen souls and propagatory animals, to Avram’s hearing and heeding of the voice of God and departure on his journey as Abraham, leaving his family behind, to the subsequent violence incurred in the Exodus against Egypt and idolator, what we have here is a model of violent action, sanctioned (if not actually perpetrated) by the deity. Jephthah’s vow to God in wartime, to sacrifice the first thing that emerges from his house on his return should he prove victorious, fits well within this model. That the choice in the latter example is Jephthah’s, not God’s, seems less important than the fact that the sacrificial victim is his only child, the thing most dear to him, and the toll exacted for his military success.

What I find really telling is that people I know who are practising Christians tend to disavow this God. The usual line runs “I don’t like/hate the God of the Old Testament.” It’s a curious statement. Both the above stories set up a startling sequence for the birth of Christianity: the sacrifice by the DEITY of his only son. The sacrifice to end all sacrifice; to absolve humanity of sin; to rid the world of violence. A rebirth through a violent act.

What seems to be emerging in the reading I’m doing and the discussion in the class is that there is almost no way to separate the violence that is an essential element in religion from the non-violence that is an equally essential element. It’s fascinating. I’m reading with new eyes.