The holy season of Lent is upon us and the theme of sacrifice has reminded me of Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling, his examination of the Old Testament story of Abraham's sacrifice of his son Isaac.
To recap the story: God commands Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac on a mountaintop. Keep in mind that God has previously promised Abraham that he would be the father of countless generations through Isaac. Oh, and let's not forget that Isaac was a miracle birth, occurring when Sarah is well past child-bearing years, possibly when she was in her nineties. So, when God commands Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, it's a big deal. No one can blame Abraham for freaking out and questioning if he should go through with it. After much internal debate, he takes Isaac up a mountain, binds him and, in fear and trembling, takes a leap of faith and raises his sword, intent on killing his son. At the last possible second, an angel appears and stays Abraham's hand and offers a goat instead for the sacrifice to God.
Okay, this isn't a Bible story to tell the kids at bedtime, but as adult readers and writers of romance, it strikes a chord, does it not?
Anyone old enough to date knows about the fear and trembling of meeting someone new, of going on a blind date, of getting to know a stranger, of eventually offering them your heart. We've done it - repeatedly. We've gotten hurt so many times, and yet, we keep repeating it as we move from one relationship to another. Why? Where does this need to throw caution to the wind and risk everything (sometimes our emotional well-being, sometimes it's our children, family, and friends, and sometimes it's a financial sacrifice, etc) when we've been repeatedly hurt in the past?
Why? One possible answer: because, as the story of Abraham and Isaac has taught us, only by risking it all, by making that leap of faith do we make our lives (and our selves) better. Who among us can expect to find total, crazy-in-love happiness without risking our very self in the process? It can't be done.
Just as Abraham was able to forsake the world in order to commune with the divine and therefore reclaim all that he so cherished (the promised future generations, his son Isaac) but which he would have given up for the love of God, in the same way, only by being willing to sacrifice our world will we discover - and live - in that love, reciprocated in another person.
And even though that leap of faith will always be suspended in irrational, mystical mystery, it's a privilege to be able to explore that realm as a romance writer.
Ingrid ;-)
To recap the story: God commands Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac on a mountaintop. Keep in mind that God has previously promised Abraham that he would be the father of countless generations through Isaac. Oh, and let's not forget that Isaac was a miracle birth, occurring when Sarah is well past child-bearing years, possibly when she was in her nineties. So, when God commands Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, it's a big deal. No one can blame Abraham for freaking out and questioning if he should go through with it. After much internal debate, he takes Isaac up a mountain, binds him and, in fear and trembling, takes a leap of faith and raises his sword, intent on killing his son. At the last possible second, an angel appears and stays Abraham's hand and offers a goat instead for the sacrifice to God.
Okay, this isn't a Bible story to tell the kids at bedtime, but as adult readers and writers of romance, it strikes a chord, does it not?
Anyone old enough to date knows about the fear and trembling of meeting someone new, of going on a blind date, of getting to know a stranger, of eventually offering them your heart. We've done it - repeatedly. We've gotten hurt so many times, and yet, we keep repeating it as we move from one relationship to another. Why? Where does this need to throw caution to the wind and risk everything (sometimes our emotional well-being, sometimes it's our children, family, and friends, and sometimes it's a financial sacrifice, etc) when we've been repeatedly hurt in the past?
Why? One possible answer: because, as the story of Abraham and Isaac has taught us, only by risking it all, by making that leap of faith do we make our lives (and our selves) better. Who among us can expect to find total, crazy-in-love happiness without risking our very self in the process? It can't be done.
Just as Abraham was able to forsake the world in order to commune with the divine and therefore reclaim all that he so cherished (the promised future generations, his son Isaac) but which he would have given up for the love of God, in the same way, only by being willing to sacrifice our world will we discover - and live - in that love, reciprocated in another person.
And even though that leap of faith will always be suspended in irrational, mystical mystery, it's a privilege to be able to explore that realm as a romance writer.
Ingrid ;-)
I hadn't quite thought about it that way. But falling in love, the essence of romance writing, does involve a tremendous leap of faith. Romance writers play with this leap of faith, pulling the reader toward it and pushing them back until that final moment when faith is rewarded with love.
ReplyDeleteThat's the message I was striving for, Denise. Thank you for putting it so succinctly. :-)
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