REFLECTION 28TH JUNE 2026
By Rev Dr Fei Taule’ale’ausumai
The Knife and the Cup, Sacrifice versus Compassion.
I was at an interfaith conference some years ago and I went to introduce myself to one of the Muslim muller’s I held my hand outstretched to shake his hand and he quickly grabbled a bottle of water with his left hand and put his right hand on his heart and said, I’m sorry but we are not allowed to touch another woman, and handed me a bottle of water. I was surprised but grateful all the same that I did not know that but instead of just saying he was not allowed to touch another woman he handed me a bottle of water at the same time as a gesture of peace. I thought that was a gentle compromise.
Our readings this week present us with a stark contrast. In Genesis, Abraham takes his son Isaac up a mountain carrying wood for a sacrifice. It is one of the most disturbing stories in the Bible. A father prepares to sacrifice his beloved child.
In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of something much smaller and gentler. He says that whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of the little ones will not lose their reward. A knife. A cup. Sacrifice. Compassion.
I have never found the story of Abraham and Isaac easy to preach on. To be honest, I don’t think we’re meant to find it easy. If we hear this story and feel uncomfortable, then perhaps we are hearing it properly.
For many people, especially parents and grandparents, the story is horrifying. What kind of God would ask a father to sacrifice his child?
For centuries theologians have wrestled with this question. Some have focused on Abraham’s faithfulness. Others have seen it as a test of obedience. But many contemporary scholars suggest something else may be happening.
In Abraham’s world, child sacrifice was not unknown. Some surrounding cultures believed that offering a child to the gods would bring favour, prosperity, or protection.
Perhaps the shock of this story lies not in Abraham being asked to make the sacrifice, but in the fact that God ultimately says no.
At the crucial moment, the knife is stopped. The child lives. A ram is provided instead. The message is clear: the God of Israel is not a God who desires the death of children. The story ends with a child spared. But that raises another question for us today. If God says no to child sacrifice, why do we continue to sacrifice children? Not on stone altars perhaps. But on many other altars. The altar of honour. The altar of power. The altar of greed. The altar of prejudice. The altar of institutional reputation. The altar of silence.
Even today there are parts of the world where young women are murdered in so-called honour killings because they have chosen their own partner, refused an arranged marriage, or brought perceived shame upon their family. The victims are often teenage girls or young women whose only crime was wanting the freedom to choose their own future.
Across parts of the world millions of girls are still married while they are children. Their education ends. Their opportunities disappear. Their voices are silenced.
We hear these stories and shake our heads in disbelief.
Still today we need to ask ourselves: What children are being sacrificed in our own society?
The Royal Commission into Abuse in Care has forced New Zealand to confront a painful truth.
For decades, children who should have been protected were instead harmed.
The stories are heartbreaking.
Children removed from their families.
Children placed in state institutions.
Children living in church-run homes.
Children in foster care.
Children with disabilities.
Children who trusted adults.
Children who were told they would be safe.
Instead, many experienced physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, neglect, humiliation, and violence.
Some survivors have carried those wounds for fifty or sixty years.
Some never recovered.
Some turned to alcohol or drugs to numb the pain.
Some took their own lives.
Some have spent a lifetime trying to reclaim the childhood that was stolen from them.
The Royal Commission described what happened as a national disgrace.
For the churches, this is particularly difficult because even we as a church were not just observers. We were part of the horrific abuse story.
The Presbyterian Church, Presbyterian Support, the Catholic Church, Anglican institutions, Methodist homes, and many others were all examined by the Commission.
There are survivors whose lives were damaged while in our care.
That truth is painful.
There is no point pretending otherwise.
There is no point becoming defensive.
The Gospel always begins with truth.
And the truth is that institutions, including churches, sometimes protected their reputations instead of protecting children.
When that happens, Isaac is placed back on the altar.
Whenever a child is not believed, Isaac is placed back on the altar.
Whenever an institution chooses self-preservation over accountability, Isaac is placed back on the altar.
Whenever vulnerable people are sacrificed for the comfort of the powerful, Isaac is placed back on the altar.
Perhaps that is why this ancient story still matters.
Because every generation must decide whether it will raise the knife or put it down.
The remarkable moment in Genesis is not Abraham lifting the knife.
The remarkable moment is when the knife is stopped.
A voice breaks through the silence and says:
“No.”
Do not harm the child.
Do not sacrifice the child.
The child matters more than the system.
The child matters more than the tradition.
The child matters more than the expectation.
The child matters more than the institution.
That voice still speaks today.
We hear it every time a survivor tells their story.
We hear it every time a child is protected.
We hear it every time someone chooses courage over silence.
We hear it every time justice is pursued.
And then, after all of this, there is this Jesus person who
takes us from the mountain of sacrifice to the ordinary realities of daily life.
He does not speak about grand gestures.
He does not ask us to build monuments.
He does not ask us to prove our faith through suffering.
Instead, he speaks about a cup of cold water.
It almost sounds too simple.
A cup of water.
A small act of kindness.
A simple gesture of hospitality.
Yet Jesus understood something profound.
The kingdom of God is often revealed not through dramatic events but through ordinary acts of compassion.
A cup of water says:
I see you.
You matter.
You belong.
You are welcome here.
You are safe here.
Perhaps that is what every abused child needed to hear.
You matter.
You belong.
You are safe.
Perhaps that is what every rejected teenager needs to hear.
You matter.
You belong.
You are safe.
Perhaps that is what every survivor needs to hear.
You matter.
You belong.
You are safe.
The opposite of sacrifice is not success.
The opposite of sacrifice is care.
The opposite of sacrifice is compassion.
The opposite of sacrifice is hospitality.
The opposite of sacrifice is love.
Jesus invites us into a faith that does not ask who should be sacrificed, but asks who needs a cup of water.
Who needs encouragement?
Who needs protection?
Who needs someone to listen?
Who needs someone to stand beside them?
Who needs justice?
Who needs healing?
These are not small questions.
These are questions of faith in action.
As followers of Jesus, we are called to be people who put down the knife and pick up the cup.
People who choose care over cruelty.
People who choose truth over silence.
People who choose protection over reputation.
People who choose compassion over judgement.
People who choose life over sacrifice.
The God revealed in Jesus is not a God who demands victims.
The God revealed in Jesus stands alongside victims.
gJesus calls us to create communities where children flourish.
And so perhaps the invitation from these readings is quite simple.
Whenever we protect a child, the knife is put down.
Whenever we believe a survivor, the knife is put down.
Whenever we challenge injustice, the knife is put down.
Whenever we offer welcome, the knife is put down.
Whenever we offer a cup of cold water, the knife is put down.
And in its place comes something new.
Healing.
Compassion.
Justice.
Hope.
The story of Abraham and Isaac ends with a child alive.
The words of Jesus begin with a cup of water offered in kindness.
Between those two stories lies the choice before every generation.
Will we raise the knife?
Or will we offer the cup?
May we be people who choose the cup.
Amen.
Audio of selected readings and reflections
Audio of the complete service
THANK YOU