Parshat Vayera  20 Cheshvan 5763, 26 October 2002

Shabbat Shalom: Parshat Vayera    Genesis 18:1-22:24

By Shlomo Riskin

Efrat, Israel - Each year we return to the awesome and aweful story of the binding of Isaac and are struck by the same agonizing questions: How could the Almighty have commanded an act as horrific as a father slaughtering (sacrificing?) his son, and how could Abraham have accepted the command without a resounding argument? After all, this is the same Abraham who argued on behalf of the wicked people of Sodom and Gomorrah, remonstrating against Divine injustice.: "Far be it from You (Oh G-d) from doing this thing, to destroy the righteousness with the wicked. Will the judge of the entire earth not execute justice?" (Genesis 18:25) And in this instance, in addition to the obvious innocence of Isaac, there is the added argument of the Divine promise: "For through Isaac shall your future progeny (lit.seed) be called." (Genesis 21:12) What is the true meaning of G-d's command, and how may we best understand the lack of Abraham's protection of Isaac?

Rav Yosef Ibn Kaspi suggests that we not remove the dialogue between G-d and Abraham from the context of the ancient Near East from whence it originated and to which it applied - at least in the first instance. Abraham lived in a world of idolatrous child-offerings, a blood-thirsty god Molech who demanded that fathers demonstrate their fealty to him by placing their children on his fiery altar (tragically this ancient and cruel form of idolatry has returned with a vengeance to the present-day Middle East, with Palestinian parents, teachers and preachers encouraging children not only to blow themselves up in a raining fire of explosives but to take with them to the burning grave-pyre innocent Israeli mothers and babies). Hence Abraham was almost expecting the Divine voice to command, "Take now your son, your only son, the one whom you love, to the land of Moriah, and offer him up as a whole burnt offering" (Genesis 22:2). And given the fanatical religious climate of the Middle East, Abraham's silent acquiescence is to be expected of a person of faith.

From this perspective, the real test comes with G-d's second command, just at the crucial moment when "Abraham sent forth his hand and he took the knife to slaughter his son." The deus ex machina arrives as an angel of G-d from heaven, crying out, "Abraham, Abraham," do not send forth your hand to the lad, and do not do him any harm, for now I know that you fear G-d and you did not withhold your son, your only one, from Me&. (Genesis 22: 10-12). Ibn Kaspi would argue that the entire point of this Biblical event is to teach against child sacrifice, to show how qualitatively different are the demands of a loving G-d of life and peace form the bloodthirsty cruelty of Molech and his Islamic - fundamentalistic heirs. And for this Biblical commentator, Abraham truly passes this test when he obeys the second command of the angel, with the end of the verse I last cited perhaps to be translated, "for now I know that you fear G-d, and you did not remove (hasokh may well be translated to mean to remove, take away, cause to be absent) your son, your only one, because of Me (my first commandment)" (Genesis 22:12).

To a great extent, Rashi seems to be in fundamental agreement with the position of Ibn Kaspi, when he cites the midrash which insists that the Almighty 'did not say that he (Abraham) should slaughter Isaac, because the Holy One Blessed Be He did not want Abraham to slaughter him, but only to bring him up to the mountain in dedication and then to take him down ' (Rashi on Genesis 22:2). Apparently for Rashi, the ideal Divine will is for Abrahams children to live by G-d's laws in constant commitment, and not to die for them in a momentary act of martyrdom.

But if that is truly the case, if Ibn Kaspi is correct, then why does the initial formulation of the Divine command seem so absolute, and, if Rashi is correct, why are the words so ambiguous? After all, G-d does seem to say, 'Take now your son& and bring him up there as an olah,' generally translated as a whole burnt offering? I believe the answer lies in the fact that when the Torah speaks to the ancient Near East, it also speaks to all subsequent generations - and the pages of Jewish history are blood-soaked and tear-stained with accounts of parents who had to watch their children go to cruel deaths in times of persecution in order for Judaism and the Jewish nation to survive - and ultimately prevail. Indeed, even in our generation, we in Israel are witnesses to hundreds of parents who are forced to change the natural order of the world and to bury their children, sacrifices of a cruel war perpetrated by a blood thirsty enemy who is hell-bent on our destruction.

The Talmud records just such a harrowing tale concerning a woman whose seven children were murdered by the Roman Caesar because they refused to bow down to an idol. The distraught mother cried out to them, 'My children, go and say to Abraham your father, you sacrificed before one altar, whereas I sacrificed before seven altars.' Then the mother threw herself off the roof and died. A voice came down from heaven, crying out, 'the mother of the children rejoices' (B.T. Gittin 57b). For many parents who are faced with the agony of seeing their children's lives snuffed out in sanctification of G-d's name, their Biblical model of the parent who has passed the test of such a challenge is Abraham, in accordance with the plain meaning of G-d's first command.

Indeed, so powerful was this Abrahamic model that there was even an ancient tradition that Abraham actually slaughtered Isaac and G-d brought him back to life. Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra makes reference to it in his commentary on the verse, 'And Abraham returned to the lads and Abraham dwelt in Be'er Sheba' (Genesis 22:1), where he writes, 'Isaac isn't mentioned, because he was still under Abraham's jurisdiction. But the one who says that Abraham slaughtered him and left him and afterwards he returned to life is saying the opposite of what the text teaches.' Nevertheless, the Midrash Hagadol states that G-d brought Isaac to Eden for three years ' until he came back to earth to marry Rebecca ' and the Ashkenaz Slichot for the morning before Rosh Hashana makes reference to the 'ashes' of Isaac on the altar which constantly evokes Divine mercy (Mordecai HaMechaber).

The story of the akedah is complex - and teaches many lessons. We learn from it, at one and the same time, not to court martyrdom, that our G-d desires us to live and not to die, but that, if there is no other choice, we must dedicate our lives to eternal commitments which are more important than any individual life.

Shabbat Shalom.

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