Congregation Netivot Shalom

Rosh Hashannah Second Day

Sep 18, 2012 / 2 Tishrei, 5773

Peter Strauss

To Mount Moriah and Back

Countless numbers of people through the centuries have been puzzled, amazed, concerned, worried, perplexed and confounded by the Akedah. The essential question seems to be: How can we understand this narrative, how can we make sense of it? 

I have been fortunate enough to have come across a primary document that begins to explore this mystery – it is one half of what appears to be a transcript of a dialogue between Abraham and a tribal shaman. 

Mr. Abram ben Terah? 

Hi! I’m Dr. Lech L’kha – please come in – make yourself comfortable. 

If I might just look over your registration form? Thanks. 

OK, mental health coverage through…UCB? Oh, yes, Ur Charities Bureau. OK, fine. 

Oh, there’s an item here you didn’t fill out…who referred you here to SHUCS? 

Hmmm? Oh, sorry…that’s Suburban Harran Unlimited Counseling Services. 

What’s that? Oh, your wife referred you. What concerned her? 

Aha. Voices. Oh,excuse me…just one voice. OK, fine. Well, why don’t we start at the beginning, shall we? 

Can you share with me when you first heard this voice? Where were you, what you were doing, and so on? 

OK, let me see if have the timeline: shortly after you arrived here in Harran, you heard the voice of … is it…God? Is that right? And which god was that? 

“The One True God”? Oh, OK. And what about the other ones? What did they have to say? 

Oh, there aren’t any others? <snickering> Excuse me, a little sand in my throat. 

All right, please go on. 

Yes, uh-huh…this “God” told you to leave here and go to Canaan? Did this “God” tell you why? 

Aah...To found a great nation. 

OK, then you went to your Egyptian timeshare, and what happened there? You thought that they would kill you if they knew that you were Sarai’s husband, so you asked her to lie for you, to say she was your sister? And then Pharoah took her for HIS wife? And then he was afflicted with plagues, and he found out the truth, and gave you cattle, silver and gold, and threw you out of the country? Oh, yes, I’m sure that was a big upset for you. How terrible. 

Let’s get back to “the Voice”, shall we? When did you next hear It? Oh, OK, Him. He said that He would give the land of Canaan to you and your offspring forever? Is that right? OK. Next time? 

Ahh…you complained to Him about being childless, and He told you you’d have as many offspring as there are stars in the sky? This is getting very interesting, isn’t it? And the next time? 

Oh, wait, let me see if I have this right, there’s a lot going on at this point…The Voice tells you that Sarai will have a child, you’re supposed to change your name to Abraham, The Voice mentions a covenant with you, and you’re then supposed to do WHAT? And you did that? And then you did the same to your son Isaac? 

Excuse me just a moment, will you? 

<Nurse…please check to see if this gentleman has hospitalization coverage?> 

OK, Mr. Ben Terah, we do have to stop for now, but let’s set up another appointment, or even a series of them…I think we’re going to be working together for a little while. 

I think we can stop reading here – but you can doubtless imagine what Dr. L’kha’s reaction was to the story of the Akedah. Think: sirens and men in white coats. 

Now, to get more serious: 

It has been posited that Abraham, who was, we must remember, a pagan up until very recently, had grown up in a culture that, like many so-called primitive cultures, practiced human sacrifice. How that particular ritual came into existence, and what sustained it, is subject matter for a dissertation way beyond the scope of this drash. But it is important to recognize that for Abraham, human sacrifice was probably the norm. He had most likely learned about it from his father, who had learned it from his father before him, and so on. 

Human sacrifice was seen as a way of propitiating the gods – of mitigating the severity of their punishments, like flood, famine, fire, earthquake, lightning, disease and the like. So when Abraham hears this voice telling him to sacrifice his son, the demand is consistent with what Abraham has grown up with. 

One might well ask, “What did anyone do that such a price was needing to be paid?” I have no idea. The narrative doesn’t tell us of anything particularly horrendous that Abraham or any family member had done. We’ll have to let that question be answered by someone else, also. 

Another question occurs here: Why did Isaac go along so apparently willingly with the plan? It has been suggested that Isaac feels guilt for his Oedipal fantasies, and having internalized the anger he feels towards his father, it has become profound guilt – and in recognition of that, he accepts the need to be punished in the old cultural ways. 

This presupposes that one can give credence to the concept of the Oedipus Complex. Another matter worthy of questioning, again by someone else, thank you very much. 

OK. Where are we? 

One student of the Akedah claims that we should not read the stories of the Patriarchs as history – they are larger than life, archetypal symbols. Abraham represents a soul that accepts death, that is ready to make sacrifices, and one who is ready to obey God. 

If this story appeared in the newspaper today, is that how we would see it? Not likely. We would see it as a story of yet another crazed fanatic, probably under the influence of drugs or a severe mental disorder. 

The sages saw the story as allegory, as a pointer to the possibility that we also can learn to accept death, be ready to make sacrifices, and learn to obey God. 

But then, the sages might not have been familiar with diagnostic terms like “delusional” or “psychotic.” 

Another writer looks at the Akedah from God’s point of view: “Why would I cause such agony to those who love me? What would I have done if Abraham had not listened to the angel? How would I have kept my promise to create a great nation coming out of his seed? I would have had to intervene, which is something I don’t like to do with my people. I like them to figure things out for themselves. But, as my prophets espouse, I do require sacrifice. I will have to see what the next generation can do. As for Abraham, I’ve stopped talking to him. After all, I’m God. I’m omnipotent; I do bad things when I’m angry. I’m working on anger management and when I figure it out, maybe I’ll stop being so destructive to the people I love.” 

That has a certain appeal. It also suggests that perhaps the God we witness in the story of the Akedah is in an early developmental stage – and as the Torah goes on, perhaps we’ll see a more mature, more thoughtful God than this seemingly rash and unkind one, this one who would subject Abraham and Isaac to such an ordeal. 

Another student’s angle: 

“Only in light of the introductory verse, “and God tested Abraham,” can Jews read beyond the next verse, in which God instructs Abraham to “take your son… and offer him there as a burnt offering.” Without that initial disclaimer, the story cannot be Jewish. A God who so much as appears to desire — much less command — human sacrifice is a non-God, an unresolvable paradox, hence a falsehood. 

There is a lesson to be derived from Abraham’s struggle, but only insofar as we all agree beforehand that God does not really want the sacrifice.” 

Yet another argument states: “In Jewish memory we never say, “From Avraham, we learn that listening to God trumps morality.” We say, “From Avraham, we learn about giving up everything for the sake of God.” What we say in our prayers is: “The same way Avraham was willing to give up what is most dear to him, you, God, should transcend your own sense of justice and do kindness to us.” 

Others have seen the story as establishing that human sacrifice is no longer to be practiced – it sets a precedent for all time yet to come. 

Can we accept such a God? Can we accept such an Abraham? Such an Isaac? 

A modern poet writes: 

I can't talk about God and make any sense, 
And I can't not talk about God and make any sense. 
So we talk about the weather, and we are talking about God. 
…

We don't build many temples anymore. 
Maybe we learned that the sacred can't be contained. 
Or maybe it can't be sustained inside a building. 
Buildings crumble.
It's the spirit that lives on. 

If you had a temple in the secret spaces of your heart,
What would you worship there?
What would you bring to sacrifice?

Perhaps the Akedah is a very early and potent koan – a question or statement used in Zen practice that provokes what is called “the great doubt”.
What is the sound of one hand clapping? What is the meaning of the Akedah? 

As each of us considers this story, and as each of us asks, “What could this possibly be about?” we might end up with a new and/or augmented definition of our own belief system, a new understanding of this God we worship and seek to obey. 

In this light, we can begin to penetrate the wisdom of those who decided that the Akedah story be read anew at Rosh HaShanah. Asking what is the nature of our own personal faith, what is our own personal idea of God – not a bad way to begin a New Year. 

Shanah tovah.