Some time after* I concluded the deal with Abimelech in Beersheba sheep market,[1] I lay down to sleep and considered the possibility of going home by way of Be’er Lehai Ro’i,[2] maybe I would get a chance to see Ishmael on the way. A moment before falling asleep, I heard a familiar voice: “Abraham!”
I answered, “Here I am.” For my God, I am willing to do anything.
The Voice continued: “Take please…” The polite language worried me.
Since when does God request, rather than command?
“Your son, your only one whom you love.” Why the singular? I have
two sons. Could God be asking me to bring Ishmael home?[3]
“Isaac” Okay. I get it. Only Isaac counts in Your eyes.
“And go forth…” Again? Where could I go at this age?
“and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the heights….”
I was silent. After I said “Here I am” how could I refuse? The
thoughts raced and scrambled in my head. Hadn’t God promised, made a covenant:
“I will make of
you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you
shall be a blessing” (Gen. 12:2) and also “My covenant I will maintain with
Isaac, whom Sarah shall bear to you” (Gen. 17:21). Could it be that God wouldn’t keep God’s word? “The Eternal
has given, and the Eternal has
taken away” (Job 1:21).
Early next morning after a
sleepless night, I started chopping wood, too much wood, just to release
some of the tensions. I saddled a donkey, called two lads from the
stable staff and Isaac. We set out without a word. I didn’t explain and they
didn’t ask.
I walked alone, distraught in a storm of emotions and a crisis of faith. Isaac
realized that all was not well, and stayed close to the stableboys.
On the third day, I looked up and saw the place from afar. I can’t explain how I knew it was the place but I did. I said to the lads,
“You stay here with the donkey. The lad and I will go up there; we will
worship and we will return to you.”
In my heart I prayed[4] “Please God, don’t make me a liar.”[5]
I put the wood on Isaac and took the fire and the cleaver[6] myself, so he wouldn’t be hurt by them. We
walked just the two of us, seemingly together.
When we were a bit distant from the servants, Isaac turned to me, “My father?”
as if he were checking who this person next him really was, if was I really his
father.[7]
The words caught in my throat, but I answered, “Here I am, my son.”
And he asked, “Here are the fire and the wood; but where is the lamb for
the burnt offering?”
I had prepared by answer in advance, “God will see to the lamb for the burnt
offering my son.” In my heart I prayed “Please God, arrange for a lamb, a
real one with four legs and a little tail.”
When we arrived at the place, I prepared the altar and laid out the wood, while innocent, naïve Isaac went looking for a lamb.
Again I prayed “Please God, show him a lamb. Don’t take this to an extreme
conclusion. How could I possibly do it? How could I explain to Sarah?”
When Isaac came back empty handed, I had no choice but to tell him the
truth. Shocked, he did not resist. With shaking hands, I bound my son and
laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. I took the cleaver, lifted it
up. Suddenly Isaac understood. His eyes
popped out in fright, staring at me. I forced myself to look at him.[8]
Then I understood. Isaac is indeed my son but he is not my property. He is
an independent person, created in God’s image in his own right. My personal
religious journey cannot be at his expense.[9]
At that very moment a messenger of the Eternal called from heaven: “Abraham! Abraham!”
.jpg "Sacrifice of Isaac, in the Piasecka-Johnson Collection in Princeton, New Jersey, is a disputed work that was painted circa 1603 possibly by Caravaggio (Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15216680)") |
| Sacrifice of Isaac, possibly by Caravaggio (Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15216680) |
“Here I am.” “Do not raise your hand against the lad, or do anything to him. For now I know that you fear God.”
I lowered my arm and released the bonds. Isaac was silent. I looked up
and saw not a lamb, but a ram, caught in the thicket by its horns. How
hadn’t I seen it earlier? I took the ram and offered it up as a burnt
offering on the mount where there is vision of the Eternal.”
From within the fire I heard, “By Myself I swear, the
Eternal declares: Because you have done
this and have not prevented your son, created
in My image from living a full life in My Presence,[10] I will bestow My blessing upon you and make your descendants as
numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore….”
God swore an oath, now
there is no turning back.[11] What a relief. I wanted to hug Isaac. He pulled away. I understand that. Perhaps I had
lost both my sons, in life if not to death.
Isaac stood up. “I’m going. To Be’er Lehai Ro’i.”
“Be safe, and give my regards to Ishmael. See you at home.” In my heart I
prayed “Please God, see that he does indeed come home.”
He went and I remained alone, staring into the fire. I realized that the
messenger of the Eternal appeared only when I had
internalized that although Isaac is my son,
he is also created in God’s image with unique value of his own. I saw the ram
only when I understood that fear of God that sacrifices others is invalid.[12]
The fire died down.
I decided to bury the cleaver on the mountain,[13] but first I cut off the ram’s horns. One I took with me, to make a shofar that I would bequeath to Isaac and all generations of his descendants. In times of trouble and confusion, they would have a way to express thoughts and
emotions for which there are no words. I left the other on the mountain.
Tekiah, shevarim, t’ruah, tekiah.
Long blasts, broken cries and wails. Again and again, in varied combinations,
for all of the thoughts and emotions that weigh down on a person, followed by a
tekiah gedolah, an extra long and powerful blast, holding hope for the
future when the messenger of
the Eternal will blow
the other horn, to herald the time of our liberation and that of all peoples of
the Earth.[14]
Shoshana Michael Zucker, Hod veHadar, Rosh Hashanah 5783
* All verses in italics are from
Genesis chapter 22; some have been re-written from the third person to the
first person.
[1] In the previous chapter, but unlike Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir (Rashbam) on this verse, I do not consider the Akedah a
punishment for the covenant with Abimelech. My purpose here is “simply” to
distance Abraham physically from Sarah, who was at home, and leave the subject
of Sarah and the Akedah for another opportunity.
[2] See Genesis 16:14 and 24:62
[3] Dena Weiss “Taking the Beloved Son” https://tinyurl.com/Akedah-DW
[4] Inspired by Mishna Taanit 4:2, “For the first [additional
prayers for a fast called because of drought] he says: God who answered Abraham
on Mt. Moriah, shall answer you…”
[5] Claus Westermann, Genesis 12-36: A Commentary (trans. John J.
Scullion J.S.)
[6] “The pertinent Hebrew noun (see also Judges 19:20 and Proverbs 30:40)
is used expressly for butcher knives.” E.A. Speiser. Genesis (Anchor
Bible, 1964).
[7] Commentaries by Rabbis Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin and Benno Jacob on this verse.
[8] Claire Elise Katz, “The Voice of
God and the Face of the Other” Journal of Textual Reading 2(1) (June
2003) https://tinyurl.com/Akedah-JTR
[9] Aaron Koller, Unbinding Isaac: The
Significance of the Akedah for Modern Jewish Thought, JPS, 2021
[10] For the multivalent readings of this verse, see Tikva Frymer-Kensky. “Akedah: The view
from the Bible” in Gail Twersky Reiner and Judith A. Kates, eds. Beginning
Anew, 1997
[11] Jonathan Grossman, Abraham:
The Story of a Journey, Yediot Sefarim, 2014 [Hebrew].
[12] Rabbi A.I. Kook, Orot HaKadosh III:27
[13] Contra Haim Gouri’s poem, “But this moment he
bequeathed to his descendants / They are born / And that knife is in their
hearts.
[14] Cf: Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer
31:13: Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa said: From that ram, which was created at the
twilight, nothing went unused…. The horn on the right side, which is larger
than that of the left, is destined in the future to be sounded in the world
that is to come…”
.jpg "עקדת יצחק ציור המיוחס לקאראווג'ו, משנת 1603")
