A Blood Sacrifice For El

On the summit of Mount Ararat, within the icy walls of the Celestial Temple of the Elohim, the great god El lay in frozen slumber. His immortal flesh was prisoned by glacial ice, as it had been for millennia, but his vast mind was stirring. He wanted desperately to end his long rest, to revive and walk upon the earth once more, yet he could not move, and could not discorporate his frozen flesh to take a new form. He reached out with his mind, seeking the many idols to which his consciousness had been tethered at the beginning of creation. There were considerably fewer extant than he recalled. Something had happened. The larger images were gone, defaced and felled, while many others had been buried deep beneath the rubble of fallen cities. He searched through a myriad small icons, peering through their eyes, but with each one he saw only dirt and ash and darkness. But, he could not give up, and so he carried on.

Abraham kicked stones off of the path as he led his sheep out to pasture. His only son, Isaac, accompanied him at a little distance, smacking the back haunches of some stragglers to encourage them to rejoin the herd. One of the small stones flew from Abraham's foot and struck a boulder. The boulder shifted slightly, then tilted slowly, and finally began to slide. It fell over with a soft thud, sinking just a little into the dirt, and left exposed a small cavity in the hillside. Curious, Abraham went to investigate. It was not a naturally occuring pocket, but something that had been deliberately carved out at some point. The wall of the cavity was lined with small rocks, and a low wooden shelf was supported by having been wedged into the dirt on either side. On the shelf was a small image of a goddess, sat cross legged at the base of a thick pole, which was decorated with incised lines and had small branches along the sides. Bits of colored string had been tied to the branches, and were still hanging there. A small earthen offering bowl was in place before the idol, and Abraham could see by the residue that someone had offered olive oil and fennel seeds on many occasions. He recognized this goddess as Asherah. After all, he had grown to manhood in the house of an image maker. He observed the wear and marks on the wood of the shelf, and could discern that there had once been another idol accompanying Asherah. He reasoned that it had probably been that of Hadad, or perhaps Yamu, known by other names in Ur, where Abraham had been born. He dug around in the loose dirt with his toe, just to see what might be revealed. He struck a small, hard, object. Bending over to get at it with his hands, he unearthed a second idol. It was a heavily bearded figure, seated upon a throne, with a dead serpent underneath his feat. His masculine member was erect and rose up to his chin, and was grasped in one hand like a staff. The other hand lay upon the inner thigh, fingers cupping the scrotum. This was undoubtedly a patriarchal deity, but not the god of storms, nor yet the god of sweet waters. Abraham's eyes scanned the tiny stone face, searching for further clues regarding the god's identity.

El became instantly aware of Abraham's contact with his idol. "At last!" he thought. "A mortal that can do my bidding, and free me from this cold tomb." He reached out with his whole mind, through the idol, and into the mind of Abraham. "Heed me, child of earth! Give attention to the word of a god. Your will is mine, and you must obey. You will perform a sacrifice to me. I see in your memory that you have a son who is precious to you. That is good. There will be much power released through you in the shedding of his blood upon the altar that you will build for me. Take him to the top of the mountain I will show you, and face Ararat. Then, sacrifice him to me in the old way. This must be done, or calamity will befall."

Isaac stopped what he was doing and shifted his attention to his father. The elderly man had not made a sound in several minutes, and was standing still on the hillside, seemingly gazing at something in his hands. The sight of it gave Isaac a peculiar feeling of dread. He rushed to his father's side, and pulled on the sleeve of his robe. The old man's eyes were fixed and bulging, his face slack jawed and pale. He seemed to be listening to something that only he could hear. Isaac was frightened for his father. He called out to him, begging him to come away from the shrine. Abraham slowly turned his gaze away from the idol in his hands, and looked at his son with an expression of profound grief. He slipped the idol into the satchel that held their food, and his knife.

"Isaac, my son, there is much to be done. Tomorrow morning, we must go on a long journey. The god has spoken to me, and He wants a sacrifice."

For three days, they trekked northward upon the traders' road, following the north star. Each day, Abraham spent as much time as he could in camaraderie with his son, knowing that it was to be their last time together. On the third day, Isaac gave voice to a question which had been bothering him since the outset of their journey.

"Father," he said, "the sacrifice to your god, Yahweh, usually requires a lamb, or a young goat, or a bullock, but we have brought no animals with us. Where will we get the sacrifice from?"

Abraham had been anticipating this question, and mustered up enough bravado to reply, "We have brought no animals so that we could travel with haste, but do not worry. The god will provide his own sacrifice when the time comes." He said this to comfort Isaac, and to keep him from becoming frightened, but Abraham was not comforted.

At last, a mountain range came into view. Abraham stopped, and removed the idol from it's hiding place within his robes. He held it up to show the mountain to the god. "Is this the place?" he thought.

"Yes! Yes!" came the immediate answer from El. "Go there, and climb to the peak. On the stone where I wrought the substance of the world, where your ancestors cleansed the cursed earth with blood, build me an altar!"

The rest of the way was traversed in near silence, as Abraham grew somber with the weight of his task. Isaac could tell that something was wrong, but he trusted his father with his life, and did not trouble him with further inquiries. It was after midday when they crested the mountain, and entered into Cain's field. From there they walked across, through wild flax, thistles, and spinach, to the foundation stone, which stood erect at the end of the ridge, where the valley stretched out before them. They gathered stones from the edge of the field, and stacked them up to form the altar. Then they gathered as much brushwood as they could find, and laid it in the way that had been passed down from Adam, on top of the altar. Abraham took a cruse of oil and poured it out on the wood. He then removed a coil of new rope from his bag, and called his son to the altar. There was a cold lump in the pit of his stomach, and his senses became numbed as his mind recoiled from the enormity of the action he was about to take. Almost absently, he wished that what he had told Isaac earlier, about the god providing his own sacrifice, had been the truth.

Isaac came to his father's side, and Abraham seized him, binding him hand and foot, and tying the feet to the hands behind his back. Fighting back tears, he hoisted Isaac onto the altar. Isaac was weeping, having finally realized what was to happen. He wept for the loss of his life, but his greater sorrow was for his father, and the grief which he must suffer afterward.

The presence of El filled Abraham's mind, with a manic sense of urgency and anticipation, like a starving dog having just sighted a wounded hare. He pulled his knife, hewn from good flint, and raised it high to strike the killing blow.

Yahweh was in the field, and had been aware of Abraham's location since he had set his first footfall on the sacred ground of his ancestors. Like a rushing of wind, he threw himself between the blade and the boy on the altar. Appearing as a kirib, and blazing with supernal light, he grasped the arm which held the knife, and stopped it's deadly motion.

"Stop!" cried Yahweh. "You must not sacrifice the son I gave you for your inheritance! Remember our covenant!"

Abraham, stunned, fell to his knees. "But, my lord, did you not command me to make this sacrifice? Have I not done all just as you bade me? How have I failed you, Lord?"

Yahweh took pity on his mortal servant, and spoke kindly to him. "You have not failed. You have been tested, and found faithful. You did all, and withheld nothing. But now, you must release the boy, and take another creature for the sacrifice. Go into the thicket nearby, where you will find the beast. So, Abraham did as Yahweh told him, and when he had entered the thicket, he saw a ram entangled in the branches of a sacred vision bush. It had eaten of the leaves, and was docile. Abraham had no trouble pulling it from the branches, where it had been suspended in a strange, upright posture, and guiding it to the altar. There, he sacrificed it in the place of his son, and as the blood was spilled, he lit it on fire with a burning coal from a clay censer. The blood flowed through the stones, covering the foundation stone, purifying the soil beneath, and releasing the power of creation. Yahweh stood behind the altar, and absorbed the power as it radiated forth. None of it's puissance would reach Ararat.

As Abraham joyfully turned toward home with his beloved son returned to his embrace, Yahweh turned his attention to his own father. Away he flew, to the peak of Ararat, to see with his own eyes what was transpiring. There, he met Hadad, and Dagon, his brethren.

"I offer you no violence, Elohim," he said to them. "But please do not impede me."

Hadad snarled, his crown of horns glistening. "Do not impede me, usurper. I was the first to arrive when I felt the stirring of El."

"Perhaps you merely wanted it more," Dagon jested in a voice like the rushing of wind through tall grass.

"Regardless," replied Yahweh, "he does stir, and we must act. I have recently drawn power from sacrifice, where the earth was cleansed of the mortals' curse. Have either of you?"

Hadad arched his brow in curiosity. "Was it a sacrifice of a human? Did the mortal's coil go to replenish the earth?"

"No," admitted Yahweh. "Other arrangements were made. Yet the deed was done, and I am enervated by it. I will go into the palace, and see what must be done."

Under the suspicious gaze of two of the most powerful Elohim, Yahweh entered the smooth, icy, gateway of the heavenly palace of El. Deep within the heart of the structure, he encountered the massive chunk of glacier ice which had formed around the sleeping El over the course of millennia. The physical form that held the first of the Elohim's consciousness was completely immobilized by the ice, his protective pillars broken and fallen all around him. The father of the gods was defenseless and helpless. However, that alone would not stop him from interfering in their business. Perhaps nothing would be more disastrous than El resuming his control over the Elohim. Yahweh knew what to do, although it had never been done before. None of the Elohim had ever dared to try. But Yahweh was possibly the most daring of them all. He stretched forth his hands, and extended the aura of his power through the ice. The crystalline structure shone with reflected light of the Shekinah as Yahweh's power interacted with the essence of El. Shekinah pierced the physical form and broke the matrix. The mind of El shrieked in fury at the audacious betrayal, but could do nothing. All that was El dissolved and flowed through the ice, gathering in Yahweh's hands. All that remained was an impression of a gigantic face in the ice. Yahweh breathed in through his nostrils, drawing the godly essence into his own body, absorbing it into his physical matrix. Thus fortified, and having neutralized the threat, he made his way back to the surface of the mountain. He was thinking about what he had just accomplished, and wondering if he might do it again. After all, why should there be so many gods in a world mostly populated by mortals? Things were about to change for the Elohim.