Who or what in my life is closest to me, so close that I cannot imagine ever being free of that person, trait, possession, position or experience? That question is at play in the first reading from Genesis on this Second Sunday of Lent, the account of Abraham and Isaac in the land of Moriah.
Isaac was the only son of Abraham, born to his wife Sarah in her old age. God is asking Abraham to give up his son, his only son. Abraham is ready to say yes to God, not because Isaac is unimportant to him, but because his commitment to God is so great. If God is offering a test, Abraham has passed it and received his son back. Abraham had experienced existential and spiritual freedom.
This kind of test comes to people quite often, where we are called to an inner freedom regarding someone or something we love a great deal. Let me offer two stories.
A Jesuit classmate of mine was murdered in Port Antonio, Jamaica in June 2001. There was some suspicion that the murder was related to Martin Royackers' efforts to secure land for poor farmers. I remember at the time of the funeral, Joanne Royackers, his mother, was told by some people that Martin was a martyr. Her reply was something like, "I would rather have a live son than a dead martyr."
A woman who I see occasionally for spiritual direction has recently experienced the serious illness of her 33 year-old son. One day she said something like, “I’ve always hoped that I would go into old age being the mother of three sons, not two.” How do these two women experience freedom? It is not easy. There are times when it never comes. Most times, it requires time, patience, serious prayer and conversations with people who genuinely listen to the pain.
Their stories are the experience of mothers and fathers everyday. Violence and illness take place everyday around the world. There are many parents who live in pain because of the suffering of their children. The massacre of the infants by Herod is not so far off from the experience of many in this world. The prophet Jeremiah reminds us, “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children.”
Even aside from violence and illness, there are everyday events that call us to freedom. I am not a parent, but I imagine that it is very challenging for most parents to watch their children grow up and make decisions about their lives. Parents must often worry or disagree with what is happening, but have to find the inner freedom to not interfere.
As we go through Lent, the experience of Mary, the Mother of Jesus, is never far from our thoughts. The image of the Pietà speaks so simply and beautifully of the experience of Mary as she watched her suffering son. How did she come to freedom? Did she even experience it? I suspect that an important part of her journey to freedom was her proclamation of the Gospel for which her son was martyred.
As he is about to sacrifice Isaac, Abraham is given a new understanding of sacrifice to God. It's not about human sacrifice. It's about asking how free he is to obey the dreams of God. Abraham had to learn what Paul offers us in his Letter to the Romans. "Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us."
We don't have much control over the accidents of life – violence or illness. But we do have some say over how we deal with them. I can experience illness or injury. My choice is to rail against it or to find peace in the midst of the storm. But finding peace may require serious work. This season of Lent offers us some of the resources needed for that work.