September 18th: Rosh Hashanah
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
When I was a younger rabbi, I attended a “sermon schmooze” at a Rabbinical Conference. The point of the gathering—in early August—was for colleagues to share ideas that they were hoping to develop for High Holy Day sermons. One of the rabbis—older and more experienced than I, and one of the people I considered a mentor—said that he thought he was finally ready to tackle the terribly difficult story of Akedat Yitzchak, The Binding of Isaac. I was really struck by his comment because, I had been giving my take on the story for over ten years; I didn’t know we had a choice. It was the Torah portion, and we had to address it.
I suspect his interpretation was more profound than any of mine, but my point here is that thousands of rabbis over hundreds and hundreds of years have approached this difficult story and tried to draw wisdom from it. How can a God Who is good demand that a pious man sacrifice his son? How can a pious man think that an unconscionable act is somehow what God wants or needs? The impossibility of this situation is like one of those Zen Buddhist koans—a conundrum to contemplate, not so much for an answer but for an understanding of the nature of the world. What is the sound of one hand clapping? What should Abraham have done? How can we sharpen our spirits on the stone of this story?
For many generations—when martyrdom seemed a real possibility, most commentators praised Abraham’s faith and willingness to make a sacrifice. Though far too many Jews did end up as martyrs L’Kiddush Hashem, For the Sanctification of the Holy Name, most survived, and their willingness to live as Jews and do God’s work in the world kept our sacred mission going. It also kept God’s dream alive. By committing to lives of Torah, we put ourselves at risk, but for a holy cause.
I say this with historical perspective, but I must admit that I cannot imagine actually being at risk. Ours is a fortunate time. Though we certainly are not immune from life’s challenges, ours is a time of social acceptance and power—social, financial, and political. Through the acceptance we have gained/been granted in the modern world, we are able to approach life and the Torah’s stories from difference angles. Thus do we have a fairly new interpretation of this story. Remember, the whole story is presented as a test: “Some time later, God put Abraham to the test. God said to him, ‘Abraham,” and he answered, ‘Here I am.’ God said, ‘Take your son, your only son, the one whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering...’” (Genesis 22.1-2) While the consensus of Tradition praises Abraham for his faithfulness, this newer view says that he fails the test.
What is Abraham supposed to do? The right thing for Abraham to do is to refuse the immoral order. Murdering another human being is against God’s law. Parents are not supposed to harm their children. God has no business ordering such a horrible thing, and the test is to see if Abraham will stand up to God and refuse. Abraham had done just that in the case of Sodom and Gomorrah, challenging the Lord with, “Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike! Far be it from You! Shall not the Judge of all the world do justly?!” (Genesis 18.25) God is hoping that Abraham will stand up for justice and refuse an immoral order.
What is our evidence? Other than the horrendous nature of the command, note an interesting change in personnel. God personally gives Abraham the order (test), but a mere angel is sent to stop Abraham’s crazed piety. “Abraham picked up the knife to slay his son, but then an angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, ‘Abraham! Abraham!’ And he answered, ‘Here I am,’ And the angel said to him, ‘Do not raise your hand against the boy, or do anything to him.’” (Genesis 22.9-12) God is disappointed with Abraham and disgusted with his mindless zealotry.
Though God has spoken to Abraham many times before, God never does again. While Abraham passes nine tests, he fails the tenth. Thus is the blessing afterwards more a consolation—as though God is saying, “Yes, 90% is still a good grade, and I’ll still keep our covenant, but I wish you’d have done better and known the limits to blind obedience.”
This is the kind of interpretation borne of an age when we are part of the power structure, when we need to wield our power justly. Having been victims of unjust orders followed by too-willing and non-thinking followers, we have learned the deadly folly of blind obedience and morally-unexamined actions.
By the way, the source of this interpretation is unclear. Some say that Rabbi Emil Fackenheim spoke of it—attributing it to an anonymous Hassid, though others attribute the lesson to Elie Wiesel. In any event, this now well-known Drash speaks to our unique and modern perspective.
Think about the many centuries of Rosh Hashanah’s and all those rabbis giving sermons—and all those Jews listening to them. Akedat Yitzchak is an impossible story, but it speaks to the complexity and paradoxical nature of existence. We have many interpretations but no answers. Thus do we continue year by year to contemplate God’s questions and grow our spirits.