Sermon Archives

THE AKEDAH OF ISRAEL

Second Day Rosh HaShanah 5764

September 28th, 2003

Introduction

It is always precarious to write a sermon about Israel as events may occur that eclipse or undermine my thoughts and words. It is also difficult for me to preach about Israel. I have a natural feeling of solidarity and love for Israel. Being a Jew in Israel is the only normal place in the world. It is the only country in the world that will protect Jews because we’re Jews. Yet I don’t perforce agree with every political decision made by any government—Sharon, Barack, Netanyahu or Rabin.

Today I wish for you to leave here with a deeper passion for the people of Israel and their struggle. I hope that you will use the connection created by the Federation program P2K to make personal relationships with the people of the region Emek Hefer and close the gap that has opened between us. We are Am Ehad—one people, wherever we are. Today I reflect on Israel through the prism of the Akedah—The Binding of Isaac, today’s Torah portion.

Content

I.

The plot of the Akedah is simple. In an undetermined time God informs us, the readers, that He is going to test Abraham. Abraham is not aware of this condition. In a series of changing clauses, ever deepening the place of Isaac in Abraham’s life, God commands Abraham to go to the land of Moriah and offer Isaac as a burnt offering on an unspecified mountaintop. He immediately follows the command, splits the wood, and leaves. Three days later he sees the place and ascends with Isaac carrying the wood, while he carries the firestone and knife. Isaac asks the obvious question: “Where is the sheep for the sacrifice?” Abraham avoids answering by saying, “God will provide the sheep, my son.” Only we, the readers, know all the secrets. Abraham only knows that Isaac is the intended sacrifice. Isaac only knows to obey. They go on together in the most amazingly powerful scene. While the Torah omits this detail, Isaac had to watch his father build even a rudimentary altar. He then allows himself to be bound He watches his father’s hand raised with the knife, when an angel of the Lord interrupts the scene calling, “Abraham, Abraham’” and terminates the test. The story closes in a puzzling way, saying that only Abraham returned to his servants and home to Beer Sheva.

II.

I have a lot of questions to ask about the Torah’s text.

The open Hebrew words are, “Ahar ha-devarim ha-eleh.”

While usually translated as “events,” “davar,” it can also mean, “words,” Therefore it can begin, “After these words God put Abraham to the test.” What words?

The Torah text virtually gives us no clue on how to answer my next question. How did Abraham feel when he heard God tells him to kill his son?

Why did it take three days? If Moriah is Jerusalem, then it doesn’t take that long to get there from Beer Sheva.

What was Abraham thinking?

What was Isaac thinking?

What were the anonymous servants thinking? All of them, each step of the way.

How did Abraham feel when he lied to Isaac?

Was Isaac so naïve to accept such a lie?

How did Isaac stand silent watching his father build the altar?

How did Abraham feel as he lashed Isaac down?

What did Isaac think and feel as he knew his ultimate destiny when the knife in his father’s hand glinted in the sun?

What did Abraham think and feel as he took the knife and raised his hand high?

We must personalize this drama. It is a present tense scene played out on today’s stage, not just long ago. If we do, we will share in the heartbreak of the Biblical story as well as these days in Israel. Then we will feel as one—an unseverable unity, and indissolvable bond between us here and them there. Maybe there will no longer be a “them” and “us”, a “here” and “there.” There will be a bond that transcends and unites us all and always.

III.

I made up the answers to the questions that I posed. I apply the Biblical passage of the Akedah to the life today of the people of Medinat Yisrael.

1) After what words? Rashi cites two traditions recorded Rabbinic literature. These were words either by Satan against Abraham or by Yishmael against Isaac questioning their allegiance to God and their integrity. The Akedah is their proof and rebuttal. Not one day goes by today without someone, some place—the Europe Economic Union or the United Nations or some dictatorship in the world questioning Israel’s right to live, never mind to secure borders, free from terrorism and at peace. Israel’s test is not a test after a specific event. It is a test incurred daily.

When we read current Israeli literature, or even the Israeli newspapers in English on the web, the modern day Abrahams testify to the pain and anguish that Abraham Avinu felt when he heard the command to kill his son. When their sons and daughters complete high school, they enter compulsory military service, followed by compulsory active reserves, lasting three months a year or more until the age of 50. Each generation of Abrahams and Sarahs hear the summons to enroll their children into the army. While there is a brave face, there is also pain in their hearts. They know what awaits them, for they have been there themselves.

Why three days? Rashi cites a Midrash that says so that no one could accuse Abraham of being confused or bewildered. He knew what he was doing. Every family in Israel knows exactly when their son or daughter enters Tzahal. They have nurtured them for 18 years; have themselves followed the same path. There is no confusion.

,5), 6) What are they thinking, Abraham and Isaac, and the servants? I think that each one in his silence confirmed his commitment in his heart. As this story unfolds, no one flinches; no one swerves, even as the drama unfolds. Abraham never says, “No!” Isaac never says, “Stop!” The servants never say, “Don’t!” While there might be silent misgivings, no one rises to deter them from their destiny. Being a free and open society, Israel today allows open debate and unbridled discussion. Parents, children, society at large knows that they need to serve in the army. They might wonder about mundane issues and they might be in anguish about their duty in Gaza and the West Bank. Each sits silent with their thoughts as their units assemble for their assignments. Overwhelmingly, they do not demur, vacillate, or hesitate. Like Abraham and Isaac and even the servants, their gaze is fixed on the mountaintop and they ascend to fulfill their destiny.

How did Abraham feel when he lied to Isaac? 8) How did Isaac accept such an answer? My first answer is, maybe they were speaking in code. Maybe Isaac was asking his father, “Do you love me?” And Abraham was saying, “Nonetheless, I do.” What do you say to someone going off to battle that might not return? In 1973, Ruby and I were in Jerusalem for the Yom Kippur War. We said good-bye to a young man named David—nicknamed Dudu and held his wife, Nurit, as he left in uniform with a gun on his back. How do you say “good-bye,” in less dramatic, but no less poignant moments? May this was a “good-bye” while they could both speak. Every generation of Israeli parents say good-bye to their children, and it is not at the college dorm.

How did Isaac, in silence, watch his father build the altar? I don’t know. I’ve never been in such a position. I must imagine that it took inestimitable courage to stand firm, when the course of events came clear. Was there perhaps an admiration by the son of his father’s stoic fortitude? Did Isaac not take heart and see his father’s valour, and then adopt it into his own heart and make it his own? Maybe Isaac did not look on with fear, but rather as a final act of heroism. Teenagers are teenagers, here and there. But they witness their fathers and uncles, brothers and sisters doing their tours of duty. They watch the State being built piece by piece, which in its unique and tragic way is the altar upon which they will offer their lives through military service.

How did Abraham feel as he lashed down Isaac? With fear and trembling. The Midrash says that he tied Isaac gently. And as he looked into his son’s eyes, his eyes welled up with tears, some dropping directly into Isaac’s eyes.

How did Isaac feel? The Midrash says that as his father’s tears touched his eyes, he realized his helplessness on the altar and prayed that God would spare him. The Midrash describes how the angels came before God weeping for Him to have mercy. There are few sons and daughters who are so macho that they don’t realize the helpless situations into which they are going. There are few fathers and mothers who send off their children without fears for their safety and their return. The world media make it seem that the Israelis are cold-hearted and cruel. It is a lie! For each and every one they live the Akedah. The altar is the existence of any sized Jewish state. The parents’ hearts are rent by binding their children to service. The children take courage from their parents’ immutability. No one denies the reality. Not Abraham. Not Isaac. Not then. Not now. Tears were shed on one altar. Tears are shed on this one.

What did Abraham think as he raised the knife? Again the Torah is silent. On one hand the Midrashim all attest to Abraham’s unswerving loyalty to God. Though promised to have descendants, that would be impossible if Isaac died, Abraham was resolute to fulfill God’s command. In Dr. Louis Ginsburg’s “Legends of the Jews,” when God tells Abraham it was a test, Abraham argues with God not to do it. How many parents, dreaming of grandchildren, realize the possible impossibility of their dreams? Generations of Israelis who fought to create and defend Israel have sent their children who in turn sent their children who in turn sent theirs to Sinai, Golan, Gaza, Jenin, Lebanon, to Bethlehem. Yet you and I must believe that Abraham then and Israeli parents now cry bitter tears to send off their children, to bind them on the altar, because it is yet to be clear if Israel with any borders will ever be accepted as a legitimate presence in the Middle East. The hate spewing forth in Arabic so the world won’t understand and translations are not shared tell us that the end is not in sight. New Abrahams and Sarahs will of necessity arise and offer their sons and daughters on the altar of the State, for them, for us, and for Jews throughout the world.

IV.

At the end of the scene, Abraham returns alone. Where is Isaac? The Midrashim and commentators offer many explanations. One shocking answer is: he really died there on the altar. The angels’ intervention came too late. This is a difficult answer considering that Isaac will show up in later chapters. Leaving that aside, the answer speaks a truth. Not everyone returns. There is a price to pay in human terms, in pain and suffering and tears to have Medinat Yisrael. The world media does not show the suffering of the Jews of Israel, of the hundreds and thousands severely, gravely and brutally wounded, besides the dead. Whether in military service or studying at Hebrew University, or sipping coffee in an Emek Refaim coffee house in Jerusalem. The Midrash is true. In a sense, Isaac died on the altar. Then and now.

Let the world media tell this story! Let them show these tears!

Let them show the broken and shattered lives of Israel’s children and their parents!

Ending

The Akedah of Isaac, the binding of Isaac, is the perfect parallel for Israel’s condition today. I have written these words to personalize that which no one else will tell you, that which the world media won’t write and won’t show. I seek to endear to each of us, that part of our family, the Jews of Medinat Yisrael who face the daily test of living with bravery, courage, and grace. We need to cry both hidden and revealed tears upon hearing of the tragedies of downtown Yerushalayim and Emek Refaim. We must be shaken from our complacency and the sense of distance. Little gestures can mean so much. Buy Israeli products. Be brave! Visit Israel on vacation. Advocate for Israel. Become members of the organizations that represent Israel. Never can so many do such little things that mean so much. We must pray with all our might that the sounds of the shofar will ascend on high and somehow move the heavenly spheres that peace, a real, true, and everlasting peace will occur. Hashtah bagalah u’vizman kareev. Speedily, quickly, in our day.

I close these words by citing a poem titled “The Dancing Lass of Anglesey, from Scottish lore.It was published by the Southern Poverty Law Center, Fall 2002.

The Dancing Lass of Anglesey

A Tale of Scotland

Listen, my friends, to a tale of the time when battles were fought, and yet none would be killed!

The victor was chosen by dancer’s skill and not by the measure of most blood spilled.

In Scotland long ago, a king was ashen pale with fright.

He trembled to think that fifteen men would claim his lands that night.

They were coming to dance his lands away.,

with pounding steps and graceful sway.

Each was a dancing champion with steps so firm and strong

that none of the king’s own champions could dance as fine or long.

“I’ll lose my gold. I’ll lose my lands,”

the king worried and wrung his hands.

“I cannot gain the victory

unless I find the lass from Angelsey.

None can dance as well as she.”

He sent north and south and east and west

to find the one who danced the best.

“Go forth, my Lords, and bring to me

The Dancing Lass of Anglesey.

They say she dances time away

till flowers bloom and wheat crops sway,

till everything dies and fades away,

till nothing can stand anymore.

She dances the seasons,

she dances the time,

she dances the tides,

the ageless rhyme.

With delicate feet she keeps the beat

till none can stand anymore.

She’ll dance them to the floor.”

Well…they found her on a distant hill and brought her before the king.

“If you’ll dance for me,” he said, “I’ll give you anything.

I’ll give you a mill and lands,” he said,

“and my bonniest knight for you to wed.”

She replied, “I’ll take your mill.

I’ll take your land.

I care not for a knight to take my hand.

So keep your bonny boy…I’ll dance just for the joy.”

And so came them all

To the great king’s hall,

And she danced them

One by one.

With delicate feet she kept the beat

Til none could stand anymore.

She stepped, she twirled in a dancer’s world,

Till they lay in a heap on the floor.

When the fifteen knights were all undone,

She danced the king’s men one by one.

And then she took the king

And danced him to the floor.

She leapt about the heap of men,

Who could not fight anymore.

So she gathered their swords and their silver buckles

And out the door went she.

For none could dance as long or strong

As the lass from Anglesey

The Dancing Lass from Anglesey.

Oh, I wish that it were in modern times

A battle could be fought, and yet none would be killed.

The champion would be chosen by a dancer’s skill,

And not by the measure of most blood spilled.