The following is a whimsical dialog reminiscent of the interactions between a student and a master that you might find in a Zen koan. The characters are inspired by author Walker Percy and philosopher Søren Kierkegaard.
Percy and his teacher, Kirk the Guardian, sat facing each other, the same way they did every Friday, with cross-gazes locked in silent exchange. Their thoughts seemed to densify the very air around them, already laden with the scent of cedar dripping down on them like an invisible dew coaxed by the wind’s whisper.
A question left unspoken loomed between them. Aware that silence can be a demon’s trap or divinity’s grace, both patiently contented themselves to allow its potentiality to grow, whether for peril or for ecstasy.
Just as Kirk began to hear the soothing echoes of his own beautiful sorrow within him, Percy abruptly broke the silence with a voice both measured and serene, as if continuing an ongoing conversation. “Tell me, Teacher, what does Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac truly signify?”
Kirk’s eyes flickered with a note of contemplation that well hid his annoyance at the broken silence, as well as his pride that he was not the one to break it, as he replied, “Consider this. The sacrifice of Isaac was not solely an act of obedience, but a leap into the abyss. In that moment, Abraham encountered the ultimate paradox, where his sacred duty to God met the equally sacred love for his son.”
His countenance reflecting a serene landscape of understanding, Percy nevertheless persisted, as if rehearsed. “But what did he discover in that moment of paradox? What truth was revealed through such a daunting act?”
Kirk responded in a gentle yet resolute tone, “Abraham, in the depths of that paradox, confronted the infinite abyss of faith. The sacrifice of Isaac was not an offering of blood, but a surrender of the self. It was a profound recognition that true obedience stems not from blind subservience, but from an unwavering commitment to the divine will, even when it defies human comprehension.”
Now the shimmering eyes belonged to Percy, which, like sunlight filtering through a canopy of autumn leaves, betrayed a blend of sorrow and illumination. “Yet, the moral quandary persists! How can one reconcile the command to sacrifice with the law respecting human life?”
Kirk leaned forward, his words delicate yet potent. “My student Percy, you must be a walker before you are a runner. Ponder this. The sacrifice of Isaac was not an affirmation of human life’s disposability, but a testament to its sacredness. In embracing the paradox, Abraham experienced the sacred tension between the ethical and the religious, between the love for his son and his devotion to God. It is precisely within this tension that the depths of ethical responsibility and religious commitment merge.”
Percy’s gaze softened as Kirk’s words unfolded before him. “So, the sacrifice of Isaac is a testament to the unfathomable possibilities inherent in faith?”
With a nearly imperceptible affirming nod, Kirk added, “Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac embodies the existential struggle of the individual, the relentless quest to align personal passion with divine purpose. It is through this paradoxical act that one can glimpse the boundless expanse of faith, where the self is transformed, and the sacred reveals itself in the most unexpected of ways.”
Pausing for long enough for both to think the dialog was finished, Percy finally shook his head and resigned, “Teacher, I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
“Then this is the lesson: that no one can understand the faith of Abraham.”