Worship - 28 June 2026

Summary Of This Week's Theme

Some decades ago, Joan Baez wrote a song called Isaac and Abraham. In it she imagines Abraham's anguish and the tears of the angels, who cannot understand why "the righteous boy should die." It is a deeply disturbing image, as it should be. Child sacrifice is among the darkest things we can imagine. Why would God ask such a test of faith?

We may think we would never fail in that way. Yet perhaps we still sacrifice children—not with knives, but on the altars of prejudice, prosperity, indifference, or our refusal to confront the damage we are doing to our world. We may not call them Isaac, but whenever the innocent bear the cost of our selfishness, we have ignored the angel's voice telling us to stay our hand.

The writer Erna Kim Hackett argues that many Christians suffer from "Disney Princess syndrome." We instinctively place ourselves among the heroes of Scripture: Esther, Peter, the rescued Israelites. We rarely imagine ourselves as Pharaoh, Haman, or those who hold power. Yet history reminds us that Western nations, including Britain and Spain, have often prospered through the suffering of others. Perhaps we are less like Isaac than Abraham.

That is an uncomfortable thought. We prefer to think of ourselves as the rescuing angel, not the one preparing the sacrifice. But faith begins with honest self-examination.

The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard called Abraham's story the supreme "leap of faith." It resists ordinary reason. Abraham appears either faithful or dangerously deluded. Faith, Kierkegaard suggests, often confronts us with the absurd. Yet the purpose of this story is surely not to imitate Abraham's willingness to kill, but to learn that God ultimately rejects such sacrifice.

Jesus' words in today's Gospel make us equally uncomfortable. "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me." We are the face of Christ to the world. Are we known for offering the cup of cold water, or for deciding who deserves it? Do our lives reflect generosity, compassion and welcome, especially towards the vulnerable?

The greatest absurdity of faith is not Abraham's knife but the cross: that God responds to human violence with forgiveness, and to death with life. Joan Baez's angels weep for the righteous boy. We know that boy as Christ. The challenge is that we finally learn from Abraham rather than imitate him, listening instead for the voice that says, "Do not lay your hand on the child."