THE UNNECESSARY SACRIFICE OF BEN SOLO
By faith Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac. He who had received the promises was ready to offer up his only son, of whom he had been told, ‘It is through Isaac that descendants shall be named after you.’
(The Epistle to the Hebrews 11:17–18, NRSV)
The night when Luke Skywalker ignited his lightsaber over his sleeping nephew, Ben Solo, trust in the future was shattered in both of them. It's an imagery that reminds me of a story about a father willing to sacrifice his own son: the story of Abraham and Isaac from the Book of Genesis.
A little context:
According to ancient mythology, Abraham was a faithful man - he followed a god through the wilderness, who guided him to a place called Canaan, where he and his people could find fulfillment for all their needs.He is a symbol of a covenant - Abraham's companionship with this deity represents the potential for the world to become a better common place. He has become a fresh start.
Then his son, Isaac was born - a child to take care of. A child who could enjoy the hard work of restoration his family had done, and live a better life. A child who could grow up in the protecting presence of the god Abraham chose to follow. Caring for someone is an invitation from life to undergo a transformation, which opens up a world beyond us. An apprentice is an answer to a question we have never even heard yet.
But one day, Abraham had a seemingly divinely inspired realization: his god demands that he sacrifice his son, in order to prove his dedication.
Understandably, this story can be hard to reconcile. From some anachronistic perspectives, this old story is seen as a great example of faith, as Abraham was willing to sacrifice his child for the god who gave Isaac to him in the first place, in order to maintain balance. But the plain reality these words paint is that this poor kid was simply used as a subject of an old man's belief system.
Luke Skywalker, as we see him in The Last Jedi also bacome a symbol of something he was never truly prepared for. He has seemingly made significant sacrifices to remain faithful to what his ancestors (well, his father who later turned evil) believed in. Perhaps he wasn't completely wrong, but that kind of dedication probably requires a little madness.
A kind of madness that easily could shift the perspective of a person toward an unreachable horizon. It is a kind of sacred detachment from reality that gives birth to leaders, teachers, visionaries, prophets and sometimes - monsters. When the transformative process of going into the fearful unknown becomes stuck, that is when monsters can born.
But what it is like to be a monster? This might the question Luke Skywalker tapped into, when he tried to make peace his heritage. This is also one of the questions that the story of Abraham and Isaac raises. The divine and Abraham are both presented as authoritarian figures, who betrayed those they promised to love. It's a chain of compromised trust, framed by fear.
Kylo Ren was born from this fear.
Sometimes becoming the image and likeness of what happened to us is the only way we can deal with our own trauma.
Trauma can have many faces:
Being abandoned by one or more parents.
Being sent out to a school we might not even want to attend.
Never learning the entire truth about our families.
And being life-shatteringly betrayed by the very people who we still had close to ourselves.
Some of these acts might never be forgiven. Trust in the future is hard to restore. But seeing our story from a different angle can help; and this story from the Book of Genesis has a different reading in some early interpreters' approach.
In the book we know today as the Bible, there are multiple names for the divine, all of which have different cultural-religious origins. One of these names is Elohim, which means "god" in a more general sense. A collective understanding of what the divine is based on shared rituals and cosmology.
In the times the mythology of this particular story took shape, child sacrifice was a common part of some religious systems. This is represented in this story not only narratively, but by name: the god asking for Isaac is called Elohim - this collective understanding of the divine demands sacrifice. But when Abraham lifts his knife, something strange happens.
The angel of YHWH says to him: Stop!
YHWH is another word for the divine - a name so sacred people did not even say it out loud. This word mimics the sound of breath, which is life itself in the early traditions. This is the first time this name appears in this story.
There is an interpretation which says Abraham failed when he listened to Elohim, and it is YHWH he should have followed - who never wished for child sacrifice. And this realization hits him, like looking into the eyes of a frightened boy who's master had failed him.
The source of life only wants to accept, to heal and to forgive.
We never learn how Abraham's understanding of this event changed within him in the myth. But we know it took long years for Luke Skywalker to be able to truly reflect on his ignorance, and to go and present his acceptance and love to Ben Solo.
The problem is… the deeper you get into believing you're the monster, the harder it is to accept this love. And there is a point of abandonment when former masters, parents or even gods cannot make us feel this love. Ben Solo was long lost in the shattered pieces of Kylo Ren, who needed somebody to help him escape. It might seem like for him that liberation is only possible through sacrifice. If not by his loved ones, then by himself, willingly.
But just as the interpretation of the story I shared, The Last Jedi makes it clear that when Luke wanted to sacrifice Ben Solo, he was wrong. This sacrifice was never needed. It was only an assumption of the collective understanding.
Eight years ago, when The Last Jedi was released, it left its waves in and already raging ocean, that we can still see to this day. It was in itself a traumatic experience for some viewers, and ecstatic for others. (And of course, there are always people in between.) To present the emotional intensity of these characters opening up to each other, the story had to pull the viewer through an experience they could not easily forget.
Now, with the news about The Hunt for Ben Solo, we know that the possibility of resurrection was planned. It is the other half of the story that has been told so far - the part about healing. A much needed conclusion for a character, whose sacrifice was never about him.
Just as Ben Solo didn't have to die when he was processing the weight of his family's trauma, he didn't have to die when he brought Rey back to life. His story didn't have to end.
The death of Kylo Ren, the death of the child of these broken people, is a loss and failure of many. But there's no shame in admitting a failure.
The greatest teacher, failure is.
Trust in the future is only restored, if he is there. The collective understanding is only healed with him. The rise of Skywalker is only complete with him.