.הנני
“Hineni.”
That’s the Hebrew word Abraham uses, more than once, in the disturbing story of the Binding of Isaac. God calls Abraham, and Abraham says, “Hineni.” Isaac calls to his father on their three-day walk to Mount Moriah, and Abraham says, “Hineni.”
When the professor took roll in my seminary Hebrew class, she would call each of our names and expect us to reply, “Hineni.”
“Hineni” means “Here I am.” It is spoken again and again in Holy Scripture. Prophets and priests, servants and sovereigns, and in the Christian Testament Mary of Nazareth, say this whenever God speaks to them, calls out to them, summons them.
I wonder, though, if anyone says this word with more vigor and terrible courage than Abraham, who says it only to hear God give him a wretched command, and then says it again when his son calls out to him and asks him a poignant question, an awful question, a heart-wrenching question: “Father … the fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?”
God calls out to Abraham with a terrible command, and Abraham responds, “Hineni.” Isaac calls out to his father with a terrible question, and Abraham responds, “Hineni.” God’s messenger cries out to Abraham when he is poised to slaughter his son, and Abraham responds, “Hineni.”
Perhaps we can hear faint echoes of “Hineni” when we are asked five powerful questions in the Baptismal Covenant. Imagine, instead of saying “I will, with God’s help,” saying “Hineni” when we are asked –
Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers? Hineni.
Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Hineni.
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Hineni.
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Hineni.
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? Hineni.
“Here I am”: it is a statement of profound vulnerability, a statement of radical compliance and obedience, a “Yes” to God that really can be dreadful, when one reflects on all that God truly calls us to be and to do.
In the bizarre and troubling story of the Binding of Issac, it seems that God is asking the impossible of Abraham – asking Abraham to slaughter his own son as a sign of his ultimate faith in God, his ultimate identity in God, his ultimate trust in God. To make sense of this, I do a two-step: I first recall a definition of sin that says, “Sin is the placement of something or someone above God as the ultimate concern.” God is first. And then I remember from my AA experience that for an alcoholic, sin is placing alcohol above God as the ultimate concern. Twelve-step programs attempt to fix that in Step Three, where the person in recovery makes a decision to turn their will and their lives over to God. God returns to the top, ultimate position. The alcoholic, essentially, says “Hineni” to God.
But in the Binding of Isaac, it isn’t just a booze bottle that needs to drop below God in importance. Even the love of a parent for their child must go below God. “Hineni,” Abraham says. “Here I am.” He agrees to this, and prepares to slaughter his son.
What a dreadful story. The only way we can make sense of it is to understand how and why God matters more than even our closest and most important relationships and commitments.
When I reflect on how God might be above everything and everyone I care about, I am drawn back to those questions in the Baptismal Covenant. Teaching…fellowship…breaking bread…prayers…resisting evil…repentance…proclamation of Good News…seeking and serving…loving my neighbor…striving for justice and peace…everyone has dignity… All of that matters more than my marriage, my career, my father, my siblings, my own health, my own future. “Hineni,” I am called to say. “Hineni,” I am formed to say, in Baptism.
I can see it, but it is dreadful. I can understand it, and in the Acts of the Apostles I read about how the whole community flourishes when we all do this, when we all say “Yes” to God in this ultimate way. But it is devastating; it is radical; it is not a gentle Christening; it is not a light invitation.
Once again, I come back to Twelve Step programs, where they place God’s blessing of sobriety above all other things as the ultimate concern of that community. They do this – I should say, we do this – because in sobriety we find life, hope, love, health, a future. And so God does not stand by while Abraham slaughters his son, but intervenes before that can happen, God’s point presumably being made, which is this: when we say “Hineni” to God, we all will find life, hope, love, health, a future. God in Jesus becomes the ram who tangles himself in the thicket and prevents our “Hineni” from destroying us. By putting God first, God takes onto God’s own self the devastating effects of sin and death, and then life rises up. And yet, that first “Hineni” is quite a lot to say, quite a dreadful thing to say.
But note this well: the prophet Isaiah reassures us that God responds with “Hineni,” too! In Isaiah 58, the prophet reassures us with these stirring words:
“Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and God will say, “Hineni [Here I am].”
And so I ask you, how do you say “Hineni” in God’s sight? When you respond, “Here I am,” what is God asking of you? What is the question; what is the call? I invite your reflections on this dreadful, yet somehow compelling, call from God.
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Preached as a shared homily, a shorter reflection that invites responses from the congregation, on the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8A), July 2, 2023, 5:00pm, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Seattle, Washington.
Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm 13
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10:40-42