In G-d We Trust – But How Much?

Parshas Vayishlach

Posted on December 8, 2011 (5772) By Shlomo Katz Reposted from Torah.com

Yaakov=-Jacob.     Esav=-Easu.  Bitachon=Faith,in the sense of being active with complete trust in YHVH.

Parshas Vayishlach

In G-d We Trust – But How Much?

Sponsored by Dr. and Mrs. David Portowicz in memory of her father Rabbi Yechezkel Hartman a”h

Our parashah opens with Yaakov preparing to meet Esav after a 20-year absence from Eretz Yisrael. We read (32:8), “Yaakov became very frightened, and it distressed him, so he divided the people with him, and the cattle, herds, and camels, into two camps.” 

Many Rishonim/early commentaries are troubled by Yaakov’s apparent lack of bitachon*/trust in YHVH. Rashi z”l (to verse 10) explains that Yaakov was afraid that he might have committed sins which made him unworthy of G-d’s protection. R’ Moshe ben Maimon z”l (Rambam; 1135-1204) writes, on the other hand, that Yaakov’s lack of bitachon was, in fact, a flaw. (Shemoneh Perakim ch.7) 

The latter’s son, Rabbeinu Avraham ben Ha’Rambam z”l (Egypt; 1186-1237), suggests a different approach. He writes: The highest of the three types of bitachon involves doing without all forms of normal human endeavor, relying instead on miracles that are contrary to nature. Such bitachon is very rare, and even those who achieve it cannot expect to maintain it constantly. There is no question, Rabbeinu Avraham writes, that Yaakov Avinu attained this level sometimes; otherwise, how could he have left his wealthy father’s home with nothing more than a walking stick (see verse 11) and how could he have gone to sleep with a rock for a pillow (see 28:11)?! Nevertheless, unless a person is experiencing ruach ha’kodesh/Divine inspiration at that particular moment, or if G-d has made a specific promise to a person, one cannot be expected to maintain such extreme bitachon* that he would not make some efforts to protect himself and his family. (Ha’maspik L’ovdei Hashem) 

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“I have been diminished by all the kindnesses and by all the truth that You have done with Your servant; for with my staff I crossed this Jordan [River] and now I have become two camps.” (32:11) 

Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Pekudah z”l (Spain; early 11th century) explains why tzaddikim are so fearful of benefitting from G-d’s kindness. First, the more that one receives from Hashem, the more one is obligated to “give back” in the form of higher and higher levels of Divine service. The righteous fear that they will be unable to live up to this demand and that they will become deserving of punishment, such that what started as a gift to them will turn out to be the opposite. 

In addition, we are taught that the primary reward for mitzvot is in the World-to-Come. However, this applies only to the righteous. Regarding the wicked it says (Devarim 7:10), “He repays His enemies in his (the enemy’s) lifetime to make him perish.” In their humility, tzaddikim are afraid that they are in the category of the wicked, not the righteous, and any kindness that they receive in this world is actually their eternal reward. (Chovot Ha’levavot: Sha’ar Avodat Ha’Elokim ch.6) 

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“Rescue me, please, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esav, for I fear him lest he come and strike me down, mother and children.” (32:12) 

R’ Shlomo Alkabetz z”l (1505-1584; author of the Friday night hymn Lecha Dodi, among other works) writes that Yaakov referred in this verse not (only) to Esav, but to Esav’s descendant, Haman who planned “to exterminate all Jews, young and old, children and women” (Esther 3:13). Thus, immediately after Yaakov’s prayer (32:14), the Torah says, “He spent the night there.” Note that the final letters of the (Hebrew) words in this phrase spell “Haman.” Also, the word “night” appears three times in our chapter, alluding to the three days and nights of the fast that Mordechai and Esther decreed. (Manot Ha’levi to Esther 7:7) 

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“Yaakov was left l’vado/alone . . .” (32:25) 

The Midrash Rabbah states that this verse equates Yaakov’s “aloneness” with Hashem’s “aloneness.” About Yaakov it says, “Yaakov was left l’vado/alone,” and about G-d it says, “Hashem l’vado/alone will be exalted on that day.” 

What is this midrash teaching? 

R’ Itamar Schwartz shlita (Yerushalayim) explains: G-d implanted the feeling of loneliness in man for a reason. Specifically, man feels lonely so that he will search for G-d and make Him his “companion.” G-d, too, is “lonely” in the sense that He is waiting for man to search for him. 

R’ Schwartz adds: Most people who feel lonely try to mitigate this feeling by surrounding themselves with friends. One who automatically reacts in this way, without thinking about the reason that loneliness was created, is missing the point and overlooking a gift that G-d has given him. (B’lvavi Mishkan Evneh II p.99) 

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“Therefore Bnei Yisrael are not to eat the gid ha’nasheh / displaced sinew on the hip-socket to this day, because he struck Yaakov’s hip-socket on the displaced sinew.” (32:33) 

R’ David ben Shmuel Hakochavi z”l (Spain and Provence; died approx. 1330) writes: Our Sages say (Chullin 100b) that this verse was actually taught at Sinai, but it was written in context. [In other words, we do not observe the prohibition of eating an animal’s gid ha’nasheh because it originated with Yaakov’s sons, but rather because G-d commanded us in the Torah to observe such a prohibition.] This law teaches us two lessons: 

(1) That we should distance ourselves from those things from which our forefathers distanced themselves. 

(2) That we should use the occasion of eating to recall what befell our forefather Yaakov. (Migdal David: Azhara 183) 

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“It happened, while Yisrael dwelt in that land, that Reuven went and lay with Bilhah, his father’s concubine, and Yisrael heard; and the sons of Yaakov were twelve.” (35:22) 

The Gemara (Shabbat 55b) states: Whoever says that Reuven sinned [by committing adultery] is mistaken, for our verse confirms that Reuven remained in good standing after this event (“and the sons of Yaakov were twelve”). Rather, as Rashi z”l comments on our verse, after Rachel’s death, Yaakov moved to Bilhah’s tent. Reuven protested against this perceived slight to his mother, Leah, and he moved Yaakov’s bed. 

If that is all Reuven did, why does the Torah describe it in such strong language? R’ Avraham Yitzchak Hakohen Kook z”l (1865-1935; Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of Eretz Yisrael) explains: 

The Torah describes events in terms that reflect the impact that they have, or are meant to have, on us. Had the Torah merely written that Reuven moved Yaakov’s bed, we would not have seen it as a significant event. In fact, this slight disturbance of the harmony of Yaakov’s home diminished in some small way Yaakov’s ability to transmit his legacy to his children, and the resulting effect on our spirituality, as Yaakov’s descendants, is magnified many times over–as if someone had actually sullied his soul by committing adultery. [Ed. note: An analogy might be the way that a small decrease in the amount of money one places in a good investment compounds dramatically over time.] 

Even so, why would the Torah allow us to have such a negative impression of Reuven? This, answers R’ Kook, highlights another point: We are never meant to understand the Torah based on the written word alone. Only through the Written Torah and the Oral Torah combined can we ever have a true understanding of what G-d is telling us. (Ein Ayah: Shabbat ch.5 no.44) 

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Letters from Our Sages

We read in our parashah that one of the steps that Yaakov Avinu took to prepare for meeting, and being saved from, Esav was to pray. Below we present a letter from R’ Zvi Pesach Frank z”l (1873-1960; Chief Rabbi of Yerushalayim) relating to one aspect of prayer. The letter is printed in Shevivei Or, p. 177. 

I have seen a breach in the wall surrounding the “vineyard of Israel,” such that many people who are held by the general public to be wholesome and G-d-fearing regularly sit and engage in mundane conversations during the shliach tzibbur’s repetition of shemoneh esrei. In so doing, they transgress the explicit ruling of the Shulchan Aruch (siman 124) that one should not engage in mundane conversations when the shliach tzibbur is repeating shemoneh esrei, and if one does, says the Shulchan Aruch, he is a sinner whose sin is too great to bear. It is appropriate to rebuke such a person. Also, one should teach his children to respond, “Amen,” for as soon as a young child says, “Amen,” he earns a share in the World-to-Come. 

[R’ Frank continues:] In recent times, many, many people, including many bnei Torah, engage in mundane conversations during the repetition of shemoneh esrei, and one sin leads to another such that they neglect answering “Amen” and “Yehei shmei rabbah.” The holy Zohar says that such people are among those whose punishment is very severe. See also [the halachic work] Pri Megadim, which quotes the [work] Eliyahu Rabbah, which cites the [14th century work] Kol Bo, which says, “Woe to those who speak during the prayers, for we have seen several synagogues destroyed for this sin.” In the [work] Vavei Ha’amudim it says that people should be appointed to discourage such behavior and offenders should be shamed publicly. 

But, now, the famed sage R’ Ephraim Zalman Heilprin (shlita) [z”l (1871-1961; rabbi in Galicia; Denver, Colorado; and Yerushalayim)] has become inspired regarding this matter to found a society of wholesome and G-d-fearing people who will supervise during the prayers, will be careful themselves, and will warn those who are not accustomed to be careful regarding this great matter, such that [speaking] has become permitted in their eyes. Every G-d-fearing person should give his aid to this mitzvah which is as lofty as the Heavens, may they be among those who bring merit to the public, and may we merit the full redemption in the near future. Such is the prayer of one who signs on behalf of the mitzvah–[Rabbi] Zvi Pesach Frank. 

What are You Worth?

Parshas Vayishlach

Posted on June 7, 2002 (5759) By Rabbi Label Lam repost from Torah.com

Yaakov=Jacob.     Essav=Easu

“I have plenty” (Essav-Bereishis 33:9) 
Essav spoke boastfully, proclaiming: I have plenty more than I could ever want.(Rashi) 

“I have all” (Yaakov-Bereishis 33:11) 
Everything that I require. (Rashi) 

Give to Him what is His, because you and what is yours are His! 
(Pirkei Avos) 

Take away the ocean and what have you got?! 
(Groucho Marx – trying not to be impressed by a friend’s ocean-front villa) 

In one brief dialogue, the divergent philosophies of Yaakov and Essav are manifest. Their candid attitudes reveal dramatically different world-views. What is the source of the great divide? 

Essav evaluates his personal wealth in terms of quantity, (“plenty”), as opposed to Yaakov who refers to the quality of his relationship to his possessions (“all”). These simple words betray that while one is still hopelessly addicted to temporary material existence the other is living life on a higher frequency. 

A powerful king once approached the famous Baron Rothchild and candidly asked him “what he was worth.” The Baron is reputed to have answered that he was worth some 50 million Drachmas (or whatever the local currency happened to be). The king felt that the answer somehow understated his true holdings and did some investigations. When he discovered that Baron Rothchild really was worth 500 million Drachmas he felt betrayed, and confronted the Baron again. “Why have you misled me and violated our trusting relationship? I am aware that your assets exceed 500 million Drachmas!” The Baron humbly replied that true his holdings are some 500 million Drachmas but the king had asked “how much are you worth?” To that the Baron was compelled to tell the truth. “What I gave to charity approaches 50 million Drachmas. What I have managed to give away is actually accounted to my “worth”. That is what I carry with me. It is locked in a vault of mitzvos forever. As to what will happen to the remainder of my wealth I am uncertain. I do not count it as my personal “worth”. 

The spiritually oriented person is not compelled to impress or be impressed by that which lies outside of himself. His true ambition is aimed at goals that are within his reachable realm and his objects are merely means to achieve those ends and not the ends themselves. 

“All” expresses a vertical orientation, as the ladder in Yaakov’s dream, and not a horizontal approach, which experiences only the playing field of the jungle floor. The physical world is competitive because two cannot hold the same object simultaneously. It’s a zero sum game. 

In the spiritual dimension of life a person only competes against his own potential. One is never better than another, but only better than himself had he not striven. “A candle for one is a candle for one hundred.” Any spiritual gain for one benefits the many. Possessions, then, are experienced as vehicles that can bring us into closer proximity to The Divine source of those objects. The ideal drive is for a state of being rather than a condition of having. 

If one has a deeply invested relationship with the Almighty, then one can truly say that he has all, even if materially he is deficient. Any small number times infinity is infinity and any great number times zero will be zero. When The King will ask us about our net “worth” will our eyes look outward or inward? Will we answer “I have” or “I am”. Will we have been deceived by Essav’s slight of hand or alerted to the eternal echo of that voice that resonates so deeply within, the voice of Yaakov? How do you answer the question, “what are you worth?”

A Matter of Honour

Parshas Vayeitzei

Posted on November 15, 2002 (5763) By Rabbi Eliyahu Hoffmann reprint from Torah.org

After having worked faithfully for his father-in-law Lavan for twenty-odd years, Yaakov decides the time has come to pack his bags and take his leave. The immediate reason for his departure seems to have been his concern for the “grumbling” of his brothers-in-law, Lavan’s sons, who were unhappy at Yaakov’s successful business venture with their father. “Then [Yaakov] heard the words of Lavan’s sons, saying, ‘Yaakov has taken all that belonged to our father, and from that which belongs to our father he has amassed all this honour…’ (31:1)” 

While the discontent of Lavan’s sons seems to be with the wealth that Yaakov has amassed, the word they use, kavod, is actually an expression of honour and not wealth. “And from that which belongs to our father he has amassed all this honour… ” Furthermore, Chazal, our Sages, say (Avos 6:3), “There is no honour (kavod) but for the honour of the Torah,” i.e. wherever the expression ‘honour’ is found in Scripture, it refers to the honour that the Torah affords man, not to honour procured by wealth or protektzia. Why then does the Torah here use kavod in connection with the material wealth of Yaakov? 

The Gaon of Vilna zt”l explains that throughout the Torah, the word kavod is always spelled malei – fully – using the four letters chaf, beis, vav, dalet. There are only two places in scripture where kavod is spelled chaseir – deficiently – chaf, beis, dalet: Here, in Lavan’s sons’ description of Yaakov’s wealth, and in Nachum (2:10), where the prophet describes the wealth of the city of Ninveh. 

In reality, says the Gaon, there is no contradiction: True honour, spelled fully, can only refer to the honour of the Torah. Where the Torah wishes to note that the honour referred to is no more than the illusory honour of man – the transient glory momentarily afforded to those with gold and silver – it does so by writing the word deficiently, as if to say – for some, this too is honour; in truth, it is deficient. 

Harav Shimshon Pincus zt”l told the following story, which so beautifully defines the difference between true honour (Torah), and what passes for honour in the illusory smoke and mirrors culture we call “society.” Fifteen years ago, he had the opportunity to meet a granddaughter of the holy and revered Chafetz Chaim zt”l. She had recently left Russia, and was staying in an absorption centre in the city of Be’ersheva. Unfortunately, she was completely irreligious. 

When she was 18 years old she ran away from home and went to university. “Some time later,” she told, “I went to my zeide, the Chafetz Chaim, and I said to him: ‘Zeide, why do you sit all day in the dark? There is a beautiful, radiant world waiting out there beyond the confines of your small shteibel. Powerful airplanes gracefully soar through the skies. How long must you sit in the darkness?’ This was at the beginning of the technological revolution that started during World War 1. Airplanes were becoming commonplace, and the influence of the media was more powerful than it had ever been before.” 

“My grandfather, peering out the window, answered me patiently: ‘You see those airplanes of which you speak so lovingly? One day, those airplanes will drop bombs that can destroy the entire world. That is what they make with their technology. This is their enlightenment!'” 

“‘We make people. Do you hear? Mir machen mentschen – the Torah makes mentschen; (A person of integrity)  that is our technology.'” 

In truth, it should come as no surprise to us that the Bnei-Lavans of the world equate material wealth with honour. The Torah, after all, is merely quoting their words. Perhaps therein lies a warning to us: Do not be guiled by the likes of such superficial men, to whom honour can be summed up by the size of one’s bankroll. 

It is not difficult, living as we do in a society that places such a premium on amassing wealth, that one become caught up in the thick of it all, until the lines that separate true honour from its illusory imposter become blurred, and we Bnei Torah too find ourselves very much a part of the culture we so eschew. We all applaud the recent efforts of Rabbanim to address the problem of overly extravagant weddings and the price tags they carry. Yet what has our society – a community whose kavod is supposedly based on Torah and not material wealth – come to that such takanos are necessary at all? Have we become so honour- centric that we fear the repercussions of making a simcha somewhat less balebatish (well-to-do) than the Rosenberg’s across the street? (Is it an accident that American English dropped the letter u [u = vav ?] from the word once spelled honour, as if to underline its obsession with material wealth to the exception of all else?) 

We’ve all heard the ridiculous, laughable stories of the types of questions people have been asked when being quizzed about a potential shidduch: Do they use a plastic on their Shabbos table? (Correct answer: No – only freshly laundered linens.) Do they wash clothing on Chol Ha-moed? (Correct answer: No – they have enough clothing to get them through Yom Tov easily without having to wash.) And the clincher: Does the mother wear a tichel or a sheitel when she takes out the garbage? (Trick answer: She doesn’t take it out herself – of course – she has the help take it out!) It’s good for a laugh, but all kidding aside, people really do ask these questions, and other questions equally superficial and shallow. At what point do we start asking ourselves which honour really matters to us – with our without the “vav?” 

My wife recently asked me if perhaps I had a suggestion for a fine young Torah scholar. I came up with what I thought was a very reasonable suggestion – a fine young girl from a Torah family. The father had learned many years in Kolel, and today teaches Torah in a Yeshiva. 

“It’ll never go,” my wife tells me forebodingly. 

“Why not?” 

“His family is more balebatish (well-to-do) than hers. His father makes a decent living; her father earns a Yeshiva salary. It would never ‘pass’ for them.” (The word ‘pass,’ used in this context, is to me second only to the hateful ‘balebatish’ in its extreme snobbery.) 

I was sceptical. Figuring there was nothing to lose, I asked my wife to ask a relative of the boy if they thought the shidduch had potential. “No way,” came back the answer. “She’s a wonderful girl, but the family’s just not balebatish (well-to-do) enough.” 

Will a time come when our epitaphs will read… “Here lies R’ Yaakov and his wife Gittel. They were true balebatim. They never used plastic cutlery, and their floors were always scrubbed daily. They never made a simcha without centrepieces on each table, and their rugs always matched their furniture…” 

While by no means does the Torah demand that we live a life of asceticism and puritanism, it does make a point of being sure we keep focused on what true kavod is. It’s not a matter of eschewing all things physical, but merely of keeping our priorities straight – straight as the “vav” of kavod, one might say. 

Have a good Shabbos. 

A Burning Heart

Parshas Toldos

reprint from Torah.org Post on Nov. 26, 2003 (5764) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

And he (Essau) said (Aloud to his father Isaac): “Isn’t his name appropriately called Yaakov, because he tricked me these two times. First he took my birthright. Now he took my blessing. (Breishis 27:36) 

Essau makes a strong accusation against his brother Jacob which is never openly answered in the text. Are we quietly in agreement on his point? Is it time again for us to bow our heads in shame and apologize for the crude way our father Jacob acquired the birthright from his brother Essau, by taking advantage of him in his moment of weakness? Can we excuse his actions by claiming he only did so because he recognized Esau’s inherent lack of fitness for the Divine service? That always sounds like a “whitewash”. How can we defend the indefensible to skeptical ears? 

For millennium we are on trial for the honest reporting of events from the earliest days of our family history. Now, just relying on what’s written there in the verses I would like to try in a lawyerly way to present a case that it was Essau who fumbled his place in Jewish History and not Jacob who callously stripped him of it. 

1) The defense would like to call Essau to the stand as a witness. “Essau, do you recall your comments when asked to sell your birthright? Were you maybe too tired and hungry to open your mouth? Is that why with your last ounce of strength you asked that the food your brother Jacob was carefully preparing be poured down your throat? Remember your words?” “Behold, I am going to die, what good is this birthright to me?” Would you like to defend this statement claiming that it was not so much expressing a disdain for the birthright as it was desperation for some food at that time. Could be! Let’s see! 

2) Who amongst the reading audience would sell their Jewish Heritage for a lunch? I know! What are they serving? Seriously! How many millions of Jews over thousands of years of history were willing to give their lives rather than alter a single custom, as the law requires, that is when our religious mettle is being tested? 

It is known that the Nazis used to capture the Jewish leaders when conquering a city and execute them first to demoralize the rest of the community. It is told that in this one town it was rumored that the mayor was a Jew from a great grandparent. For three generations no one had practiced Judaism. To test the veracity of the matter the Nazis took him to the synagogue and placed a Sefer Torah in his arms and asked him at gun point to throw the scroll on the ground and trample it. He declared, “I want to thank you for returning me to my people and my G-d!” They killed him on the spot. For what value did Essau cash his heritage? 

3) The verse says, “And Jacob gave to Essau bread (It wasn’t on the menu) and cooked beans (That’s what he asked for) and he ate and he drank (not part of the meal plan either), and he got up and Essau despised the birthright.” (Breishis 25:34) Why over here does it say that “Essau despised the birthright”? Why is that declaration anchored to this place in the narrative? If the whole claim against Jacob is that he took advantage of his starving brother to snatch the blessing, his complaint should have been filed at the time he finished eating. The verse testifies that he ate and drank and got up and left without a murmur of protest. That’s when he most clearly expressed disdain for the birthright. 

Clearly, he was not tricked as he later claimed. They made a deal like any other business deal based upon a fundamental disagreement about the value of a thing. Jacob opted for eternity while Essau ordered soup. Remarkably, even when the bowl was empty so was he. Essau walked away with only heartburn while Jacob continued to stir within a burning heart.

The Search for Blessings

Parshas Toldos

reprint from Torah.org, written by  By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

(note: Esav is Esau, Yaakov is Jacob, Yitzchak is Isaac the article gives there Hebrew name)

This week’s parsha begins the saga of the long, almost endless struggle between Yaakov and Esav. Yaakov buys the birthright from a hungry Esav and then, coached by his mother, Rivka, he dresses like Esav and receives blessings from his father Isaac. 

I have received numerous letters throughout the years pondering those actions. Indeed, Yaakov himself is wary of acting in a seemingly devious manner and is reassured by his righteous mother who accepts full responsibility for his actions. 

When Esav arrives for the blessings, his father tells him that his younger brother cleverly took all the blessings, but Esav, despondent as he may be declares to his father, “He (Jacob) took away my birthright and see, now he took away my blessing!” He adds, “Have you not reserved a blessing for me? Isaac answered, and said to Esau, “Behold, a lord have I made him over you, and all his kin have I given him as servants; with grain and wine have I supported him, and for you, where — what can I do, my son?”. And Esau said to his father, “Have you but one blessing, Father? Bless me too, Father!” And Esau raised his voice and wept. (Genesis 27:36-38). 

I often wondered about the lesson of this repartee. Esav, clearly angered by Yaakov’s cunning, still has clarity of mind to ask for a blessing. Yitzchak seems to demur, inferring that there is nothing left. But Esav prevails by pleading, even crying for a blessing. And only then does his father acquiesce and bless him as well. 

Was there a blessing left or not? Can pleading with the saintly patriarch produce a previously non-extant blessing? Maybe Esav’s tears taught a lesson even for the children of Yaakov? 

In the summer of 2001 30,000 Boy Scouts joined together in Virginia for a national Boy Scout Jamboree. Among the myriad groups of scouts who attend this event that occurs every four years are many Jewish Scouts as well. Mike Paretsky, a Vice Chairman of the GNYC Jewish Committee on scouting, was the kosher food liaison to the jamboree. Special food was ordered from O’Fishel caterers of Baltimore, so that the Jewish scouts would be able to nourish their bodies as well. 

One of the scoutmasters, a Jewish man caught a glimpse of the kosher offerings. He had never eaten a kosher meal in his life, yet when he saw the special meals, something stirred. He and his troops were being served pork-this and bacon-that for breakfast, lunch and supper, and all of a sudden this man decided he was sick of the monotonous treif stuff. He wanted to eat kosher. Scoutmaster Paretsky gladly let him partake in a meal, but that was not enough for the fellow. The man decided to keep kosher during the entire jamboree! 

Mr. Paretsky agreed to accommodate the neophyte kosherphile, but a skeptic approached him. “Mike,” he said, “why are you wasting your kosher food on this fellow? He is not going to eat kosher after this is over, and he observes absolutely nothing! Why waste the food on him?” 

Mike answered with an amazing story of the Chofetz Chaim. When Russian soldiers entered the town of Radin, Jewish townsfolk prepared kosher meals for the Jewish soldiers in the Czar’s army. Soon their acts of charity seemed to fly in their face as they saw the soldiers devour the food and then stand on line to receive the forbidden Russian rations. 

When they complained to the Chofetz Chaim and threatened to stop preparing kosher food, he reflected with an insight that must be passed on to generations. 

“Every mitzvah that a Jew does, every good deed and every bit of kosher that he eats is not a fleeting act. It is an eternity. No matter what precedes or ensues, we must cherish each proper action of a Jew.” 

The wayward son, Esav is at first told by his father that there are no blessings. But he cries bitterly and cannot fathom that fact. “Is there nothing left?” He asks. It cannot be. And he was right. There is always some blessing left to be found. No matter how far one has strayed, no matter how bleak a situation looks. There is always blessing. We must pursue it, even cry for it, and when we receive the tiniest blessing it may seem trivial, even fleeting, but it is with us for eternity.

                                   
                                    Torah Section Chayei Sarah (“The Life of Sarah”) in Depth
                                      reprint from Chabad.org. (I replaced YHVH for G-D as we are to speak His Name.

Paradoxically, the Torah section entitled Chayei Sarah (“The Life of Sarah”) deals entirely with events that occurred after Sarah’s death. The first verse of the Parshah tallies the lifespan of the first of the four matriarchs of Israel:

The life of Sarah was one hundred years, twenty years and seven years; these were the years of Sarah’s life.

The second verse reports:

Sarah died in Kiryat Arba, which is Hebron, in the land of Canaan; and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah and to weep for her.

Presenting himself as “a stranger and a resident amongst you,” Abraham approaches the people of Heth with the request to purchase a plot of land for Sarah’s burial. Abraham is particularly interested in the Machpelah Cave (“the double cave” or “the cave of the couples”) and the surrounding field—a property belonging to Ephron the son of Tzochar.

Ephron declares that he is prepared to give the cave and field to Abraham free of charge, but also lets fall that he values the property at 400 silver shekels. So,

Abraham weighed to Ephron the silver which he had named in the hearing of the sons of Heth, four hundred shekels of silver in negotiable currency . . .

Then Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah before Mamre, which is Hebron, in the land of Canaan.

Thus “the Machpelah Field with the cave in it” in the heart of Hebron became the first Jewish-owned plot of land in the Holy Land.

Eliezer’s Mission

“Abraham was old and come along in days; and YHVH had blessed Abraham in all things”—so it was time to find a wife for Isaac.

Abraham summons Eliezer, “the eldest servant of his house, who ruled over all that he had,” and says to him:

“. . . Swear by the YHVH Elohim of heaven and YHVH of the earth, that you will not take a wife for my son of the daughters of the Canaanites among whom I dwell; but you shall go to my country and to my kindred, and take a wife for my son Isaac . . .”

The servant took ten camels of the camels of his master, and departed; all the goods of his master were in his hand. He arose and went to Aram Naharayim, to the city of [Abraham’s brother] Nachor.

How to find the right woman to marry Isaac and become the second matriarch of Israel? Eliezer had a plan.

He made his camels kneel down outside the city by a well of water at the time of evening, at the time that the women go out to draw water.

And then he prayed:

“O YHVH Elohim of my master Abraham . . . Behold, I stand here by the well of water, and the daughters of the men of the city come out to draw water.

“Let it come to pass that the maiden to whom I shall say, ‘Please, dip down your pitcher that I may drink,’ and she shall say, ‘Drink, and I will give your camels to drink also’—she is the one You have appointed for Your servant Isaac . . .”

Things now happen swiftly:

Before he had finished speaking, Rebecca came out . . . with her pitcher upon her shoulder. The girl was very fair to look upon . . .

The servant ran to meet her, and said: “Please, let me drink a little water from your pitcher.” She said: “Drink, my lord”; and she hastened and let down her pitcher upon her hand, and gave him to drink.

When she had done giving him to drink, she said: “I will draw water for your camels also, until they have finished drinking.” She hastened and emptied her pitcher into the trough, and ran again to the well to draw water, and drew for all his camels.

Eliezer “looked at her wonderingly, but kept his peace, waiting to know whether YHVH had made his journey successful or not,” for he still had to determine if she met the criteria insisted upon by Abraham—that Isaac’s wife be “from my kindred.”

Still, he must have been fairly certain that she was the one, because he immediately gave her “a golden ring of half a shekel’s weight, and two bracelets for her hands of ten shekels’ weight of gold,” in effect betrothing her to Isaac. Only then did he ask:

“Whose daughter are you? Tell me, please, is there room in your father’s house for us to lodge?”

She said to him: “I am the daughter of Bethuel the son of Milcah, whom she bore to Nachor.”

She was Abraham’s brother’s granddaughter! Then she answered his second question: “We have both straw and provender enough, and room to lodge in.

Rebecca runs home, and Eliezer and his ten camels follow. There he is greeted by Rebecca’s brother, Laban, who provides feed for his camels, and water for him and his camel-drivers to wash their feet.

There was set food before him to eat, but he said: “I will not eat until I have told of my errand.”

And he said: “Speak.”

And he said: “I am Abraham’s servant.

“YHVH has blessed my master greatly. . . . He has given him flocks, herds, silver, gold, manservants, maidservants, camels and donkeys.

“Sarah, my master’s wife, bore a son to my master when she was old; and to him he has given all that he has.”

The Torah now repeats the entire sequence of events—Abraham’s instructions to Eliezer, Eliezer’s arrival at the well, his prayer and the “test” he invented, Rebecca’s appearance and her actions, Eliezer’s gifts to her and his conversation with her—this time as told by Eliezer to Rebecca’s family. Laban and Bethuel respond:

“The thing comes from YHVH; we cannot speak to you bad or good. Behold, Rebecca is before you; take her and go, and let her be your master’s son’s wife, as YHVH has spoken.”

The next morning, however, her mother and brother (Bethuel is mysteriously absent) have some last-minute objections: there are many arrangements to be made, a trousseau to be prepared. “Let the girl stay with us a year or ten months; after that she shall go.”

Eliezer, however, insists that they must set out immediately. “Do not delay me, seeing that YHVH has made my way successful; send me away that I may go to my master.”

They said: “We will call the girl and inquire at her mouth.” They called Rebecca, and said to her: “Do you want to go with this man?”

And she said: “I will go.”

Marriage

Rebecca and her maids arose, and they rode upon the camels and followed the man; the servant took Rebecca, and went his way.

Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the evening time; he lifted up his eyes and saw, behold, camels were coming.

Rebecca lifted up her eyes and saw Isaac; and she leaned down from the camel.

She said to the servant: “Who is this man who walks in the field to meet us?” And the servant said: “It is my master.” She took a veil and covered herself . . .

Isaac brought her into the tent [of] his mother Sarah. He took Rebecca, and she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother.

 The other sons of Abraham

Our Parshah has one more event to relate before concluding:

Then again Abraham took a wife, and her name was Keturah. She bore him Zimran, Yokshan, Medan, Midian, Yishbak and Shuach.

The Torah, however, is quick to point out that these additional sons of Abraham were not to be included in the Abrahamic legacy:

Abraham gave all that he had to Isaac. But to the sons of the concubines which Abraham had, Abraham gave gifts, and sent them away from his son, while he yet lived, eastward, to the east country.

Thus the Torah concludes its account of Abraham’s life:

These are the days of the years of Abraham’s life which he lived: a hundred years, seventy years and five years. Then Abraham expired and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years, and he was gathered to his people.

His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the Cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Tzochar the Hittite, which is before Mamre, the field which Abraham purchased from the sons of Heth; there was Abraham buried, and Sarah his wife.

The Torah also informs us that Ishmael died at the age of 137 years, after fathering twelve sons, each of whom was the prince of a domain; the territories of these twelve clans extended “from Havilah to Shur, which is before Egypt, all the way to Assyria.”

                                                 THE SACRIFICED SEED

                                              


                                                                    Further Thoughts on the Akedah         
                                                              by:   John J. Parsons.   reprint from Hebrews for Christian

The first occurrence of the word “love” in the Bible is connected with Abraham’ s love for his “only” son Isaac, whom he offered as a sacrifice on Moriah. Abraham “built the altar,” “laid the wood in order,” “bound his son,” and “laid him on top of the wood” to foreshadow the sacrifice of the Promised Seed to come... 

THE VERY FIRST OCCURRENCE OF THE WORD “love” in the Scriptures refers to Abraham’s passion for his son Isaac (i.e., the word ahavah: , in Gen. 22:2). Isaac was the long-awaited heir, Abraham’s “miracle boy,” his only child of his beloved wife Sarah. God Himself named the child Yizchak ( ) before his birth in anticipation of the “laughter” and great hope he would bring to Abraham and Sarah. Indeed, it was this very hope in God’s promise that moved God to rename Abram to Abraham, and Sarai to Sarah... In short, Isaac represented all the dreams and aspirations of Abraham’s heart. In light of this, imagine the inner agony, the unspeakable heartache, and the great turmoil Abraham experienced when God asked him to sacrifice his beloved and irreplaceable son as a burnt offering.... Would Abraham be willing to obey - even if that meant destroying his dream for Isaac - and indeed all his hopes? More radically, would Abraham be able to trust God - even if that meant surrendering his understanding and rationality?
In Jewish tradition, the drama of the mind-blowing sacrifice of Abraham’s beloved son is called the Akedah ( , “binding”), which is universally regarded as the supreme test of Abraham’s obedience and faith. The Akedah is so important that it is read each morning as a prelude to the Shacharit (morning) service. It is also read during Rosh Hashanah, since tradition says that Abraham sacrificed his son during this time. The blast of the shofar is intended to remind us of God’s gracious atonement provided through the substitutionary sacrifice of the lamb (as well as to “drown out” the voice of the accuser). In this way, the Akedah represents the truth of the message of the cross of Yeshua the Messiah, and how God’s attribute of justice was “overcome” by His attribute of compassion at the cross (Psalm 85:10).

“After these things...”
The story of the offering of Isaac, Abraham’s “promised seed,” begins with the statement, “After these things God tested Abraham...” (Gen. 22:1). Notice that the phrase, “after these things” ( ) grammatically connects the preceding narrative of Abraham’s expulsion of his son Ishmael at God’s command (Gen. 21:12-14) and the covenant he made with Abimelech at Beersheba (Gen. 21:-22-32). The verses that immediately precede the account of the Akedah, however, read: “Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheba and called there on the name of the LORD, the Everlasting God ( ). And Abraham sojourned many days in the land of the Philistines” (Gen. 21:33-34). Since Abraham was in the godly line of Seth and Shem, he undoubtedly believed in the promise of the coming “seed of the woman” who would “reverse the curse” originally given to humanity (Gen. 3:15). Did the “tamarisk tree” recall the original Tree of Life that the LORD promised would be restored by the promised seed? Did Abraham believe that his son Isaac was the Redeemer to come?
“God tested Abraham...”
“After these things God tested Abraham...” Pirke Avot 5:3 says, “With ten tests our father Abraham was tested and he withstood them all -- in order to make known how great was our father Abraham’s love for God.” The sages list these tests as:

1. Rejecting the religion (idolatry) of his father Terach (Josh. 24:2).
   
2. Leaving the country of his birth for an unknown land (Gen. 12:1).
   
3. Being tested with famine upon entry to the Promised Land (Gen. 12:10).
   
4. Dealing with Sarah’s abductions (Gen. 12:14-15; 20:2).
   
5. Interceding for Lot and fighting against the four kings (Gen. 14:12-16).
   
6. Experiencing the dreadful vision of future captivity (Gen. 15:1-21).
   
7. Undergoing painful circumcision at age 99 (Gen. 17:10).
   
8. Enduring the infertility of Sarah, despite the promise of an heir (Gen. 11:30; 15:3).
   
9. Evicting his wife Hagar and his firstborn son Ishmael (Gen. 21:9-14).
   
10. Sacrificing his beloved son Isaac as a burnt offering (Gen. 22:1-19). The sages universally agree that the sacrifice of Isaac was the most difficult test (nissayon) Abraham faced (see below for more).
    
    
    “Here I am...”
    So the story of the Akedah begins: “After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here am I” (Gen. 22:1). After some 30 years of silence, living as a sojourner among the Philistines, God finally called to faithful Abraham, who simply answered, “Here I am” (i.e., hineini: ). What is remarkable about this “hineini” is that it is Abraham’s only recorded response to God’s forthcoming request: “Take your son, your only son, whom you love, even Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you” (Gen. 21:2).
    The midrash adds some imaginary dialog between God and Abraham in order to explain the rhetoric used in this verse of the Torah: “Take your son, your only son, whom you love, even Isaac”:
    God ( ) said: “Take your son ( ).” Abraham answered, “Which one? I have two sons.” So God said, “Your only ( ) son.” Abraham answered, “But each one of the two is the only one of his mother.” So God said, “Whom you love ( ).” Abraham answered, “I love both.” So God finally named the son directly: “Take Isaac ( ).” (Midrash Rabbah, Bereshit)
    Despite the speculation provided by midrash, the written Torah records that when God called out to Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Abraham replied with only one word: hineini, “Here I am,” and began immediately preparing for the sacrifice. And as we will see in the subsequent narrative, three days would pass from the time God asked Abraham until they arrived at Moriah, and the Torah only records that Abraham said this one word: hineini. Both God and Abraham were silent during this awful test of faith...
    “Go to the land of Moriah...”
    
    “Please take ( ) your son, your only son, whom you love, even Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah ( ), and offer him there as a burnt offering ( ) on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you” (Gen. 21:2). Notice that the phrase “go to the land of Moriah” uses the same verb that God used to call Abraham to leave for the Promised Land (i.e., lekh-lekha: in Gen. 12:1). So the progression is first “go for yourself” from the land of your origin (i.e., the realm of the flesh, of natural human life), and then “go for yourself” to the place of atonement and substitutionary sacrifice (i.e., the realm of the spirit, of eternal life).
    
    
    The land of Moriah ( ) was not unknown to Abraham, since it was understood from the time of Adam and Eve to have been the place where God created the universe. The dust of Moriah is said to have been used to create Adam, and Mount Moriah was said to have been the place that Adam first offered sacrifice, as did his sons Cain and Abel. After the Great Flood, Noah commission his firstborn son Shem to be the family high priest (i.e., Malki-Tzedek). Shem later established a school at Moriah that became the central place of Torah study for the post-flood generation. According to tradition, Shem called the place Shalayim (i.e., Shelem, “perfect”), since the bedrock at Moriah was called Even ha-Shetiyah, “the Foundation Stone,” referring to the creation of the earth on the First Day (Isa. 28:16). Later, Abraham called the place Adonai Yireh (“God will see”), and subsequently Moriah was renamed by combining these two to form “Jerusalem.” At any rate, the mountain which God would show Abraham was none other than Zion, the Mountain of the LORD, and the site of the future Temple (as well as the crucifixion of Yeshua).
    It should be noted here that some commentators claim that Abraham actually misunderstood God’s commandment to offer up his son. When God said, “Take your son... and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there” (Gen. 22:2), God did not intend for Abraham to kill Isaac, but only that he should “dedicate” him upon the altar at Moriah. The Hebrew verb alah ( ) can mean “to ascend” or “to climb” in addition to turning something into smoke (i.e., via burnt offering). Understood in this way, the command could be rendered, “Take your son... and go to the land of Moriah and cause him to ascend [ ] there for an ascent [ ] upon one of the mountains which I will tell you.” In other words, the Hebrew verb translated “offer him up” [ ] should have been understood as “cause him to ascend,” perhaps in a way similar to Jacob’s vision of the ladder that ascended toward heaven. Rashi notes that when God said, “Which [i.e., the sacrifice of humans] I commanded not, nor did it come into My mind” (Jer. 7:31) refers to Isaac, whom God never intended to slaughter, but only to be tested (Ta’anit 4a).
    
    Abraham, however, understood God’s instruction to mean that Isaac was to be offered as a human sacrifice (i.e., a whole burnt offering ( ), a cult practice not uncommon among the pagan cultures immersed in Molech idolatry. Some have speculated that the test given to Abraham centered primarily on renouncing such pagan conceptions of God. The temptation to elevate blind obedience to an arbitrary deity ( ) above the dictates of compassion and conscience had to be overcome. Abraham’s temptation, so to speak, was whether to listen to the voice of God ( ) or to heed the voice of the LORD.
    
    
    Why didn’t Abraham argue with God by remembering Him as the LORD ,
    the Compassionate Source of life? Earlier he had argued with God regarding the destruction of Sodom. So why didn’t he argue to save his own son? Might this have been Abraham’s test, namely, that God wanted Abraham to argue and to challenge the command to perform child sacrifice? Or why didn’t he ask, “Why do you taunt me by giving me a son in my old age only to have him taken away?” Why didn’t Abraham protest that his descendants could never inherit the Promised Land if his heir were killed? Indeed, how could Abraham have been in his right mind during this test? As Soren Kierkegaard reminds us in his book Fear and Trembling, this is yirat Elohim - the fear of God - taken to point of sheer madness.
    “He arose early...”
    “So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac. And he cut the wood for the burnt offering and arose and went to the place of which God had told him” (Gen. 22:3).
    Instead of arguing with God about the rightness of the request, Abraham immediately began preparing for the sacrifice. He did not question God’s instructions, nor, as we know from New Testament Scripture, did he doubt that God would be able to fulfill His promise that Isaac would be the heir of a multitude of people. Abraham “saddled his donkey,” indicating that he took personal responsibility for his mission. The midrash states that the two young men were Ishmael and Eliezer, respectively. Abraham cut the wood for the burnt offering ahead of time, though this is left unexplained in the text of the Torah (a midrash states that it was to ensure that the wood was “kosher,” that is, worm-free). Another possibility is that the wood was considered sacred to Abraham, perhaps cut from the terebinth tree he had earlier planted at Beersheba.
    The Miracle of the Test
    
    There are countless commentaries written about the Akedah, with various theories about what it all means or why the test was administered. Some of the sages link “after these things” (Gen. 22:1) with the treaty Abraham had earlier made with Abimelech (Gen. 21:27). God was angry at Abraham for making this covenant since He had promised to give all the land of Canaan to his descendants. Now Abraham’s children would be unable to conquer the land until Abimelech’s grandson would die. In effect, Abraham’s decision to covenant with the Philistines resulted in the exile to Egypt, and the test of the Akedah was meant to refine Abraham’s faith and obedience...
    
    
    A midrash states that after Isaac had become a wealthy man, his older brother Ishmael visited him and taunted him regarding the virtue of circumcision. “I was thirteen years old when God commanded my father to circumcise us. I willingly submitted to this painful operation in obedience to my father and to God. But you, on the other hand, were a mere baby, before you had the intelligence to protest.” Isaac replied, “You praise yourself because of one organ of your body, but I swear that if God commanded my father to sacrifice my entire body, I would do so joyfully.” God heard Isaac’s remark and took note of it. He would one day test Abraham with just such a command...
    Another midrash (quoting from Sanhedrin 89b) says that the sacrifice of Isaac was similar to God’s test of the prophet Job. One day the angels came to minister before God and Satan was among them. The LORD said to Satan, “From where have you come?” Satan answered the LORD and said, “From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking up and down on it” (Job 1:7). And the LORD said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Abraham, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil?” Then Satan answered the LORD and said, “Does Abraham fear God for no reason? He had no sons for a long time and he built altars to please you, but after his request for a child was granted, he has long forgotten you. He sacrificed many cattle for a feast for Isaac, but he did not offer you a gift of thanks. Now many years have passed since then and he has yet to offer you a single sacrifice!” God answered that Abraham had made the feast in honor of his son, yet if He asked him to kill his son for the sake of God, he would gladly do so. That is what the words, “After these things God tested Abraham” means: after Satan’s words of challenge were uttered, God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. Rashi suggests that God prefaced the test with the word “please” (i.e., “Please take [ ] your son, your only son, whom you love, even Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him up as a burnt offering.” God modified His request with “please” [ ] because the sacrifice of Isaac was not a command, and therefore Abraham was in a position to refuse.
    
    Immediately after Abraham agreed to fulfill God’s will, Satan began scheming of ways to defeat him. He placed numerous obstacles in Abraham’s way to prevent him from fulfilling God’s request, such as causing a surging river to appear directly on the path. He whispered into Isaac’s ears that Abraham had gone insane. He tried to make Abraham question whether he had actually heard the voice of God. He disguised himself as an old man to Abraham who insinuated that Abraham had listened to a devil rather than God. Satan later disguised himself as a distressed Isaac and appeared to torment Sarah, hoping that she would somehow intervene and divert Abraham’s mission. Throughout the journey to Moriah, Satan tried his best to dissuade Abraham, but God gave him grace to prevail (for more on this, see the “Midrash of the White Ram”).
    
    
    Other commentators speculate as to whether there was an “Ishmael connection” with the Akedah. According to Rashi, the sacrifice of Isaac was middah keneged middah (“like for like”) justice applied to Abraham’s unjust eviction of Hagar and his firstborn son. After all, despite his wealth and power, Abraham had sent them away to a certain death in the desert.... Indeed, Isaac later seemed to understand this, and many of his spiritual encounters with God occurred at Beer-lehai-roi, the place where Ishmael was first named - and later abandoned.
    I should add that Abraham’s test was also Sarah’s test. Abraham realized he would have to gain Sarah’s assent to let Isaac go off to Moriah, so he convinced her that sending Isaac to Shem’s school would be the best thing for him. Sarah was apprehensive and clothed her son with special garments. She followed the men as far as Hebron, where Abraham finally told her to turn back. “Who knows if I shall ever look upon you again?” she said in parting to her son. It is a provocative thought that Sarah - not Isaac - was the real victim of the Akedah. She, not Isaac, is the one who died, after all. Jewish tradition has associated the cries of Sarah with the blasts of the shofar during Rosh Hashanah. The broken notes of the shofar are thought to recall her crying for her son (for more on this, see “The Akedah of Sarah” on the web site).
    Many commentators link the idea of a test (i.e., nissayon: ) with that of a “banner” or “miracle” (i.e., nes: ). Since God already knows the outcome of the test, its purpose is to “raise up” the righteous by lifting them up to a new spiritual level. In other words, the test is for the individual’s benefit - certainly not to impart any new information to God. The sages note that God tests someone to enable him or her to become aware of their own capabilities (or limitations). Testing is therefore inherently soul-building. In addition, God tests people in order to demonstrate their capabilities to others. In the case of Abraham, the test of the Akedah functioned as a “banner” of his righteousness and faithful obedience. He is rightly regarded as the “father of faith” to all who believe (Rom. 4:11,16).
    “On the Third Day...”
    
    “On the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw the place from afar” (Gen. 22:4). The midrash says that God deliberately prolonged the journey so that the nations should not later claim, “Abraham only sacrificed his son because he was taken by surprise when God gave him the command. No man would ever agree to an order to slaughter his own son, provided he were given ample time for reflection.” Therefore God gave him three full days to consider the matter, and during that entire time Satan did his best to convince both Abraham and Isaac that it was a mistake to continue on their way.
    
    
    Nonetheless Abraham and Isaac pressed on and traveled together. On the third day, Abraham saw a mountain bathed in a light that extended from earth to heaven, with the Shekhinah Glory resting above it. He then asked Isaac, “What do you see?” Isaac answered, “I see a lovely hill with a beautiful cloud rising over it.” Abraham then asked his two servants what they saw, and they answered they saw nothing. Abraham then told his two servants, “Stay here with the donkey; I and the boy will go over there and worship and we will return to you” (Gen. 22:5). According to midrash, since the two servants could not see the Shekhinah on the mountain, Abraham left them with the donkey. Then the two servants began to quarrel. Ishmael said that after Isaac’s sacrifice he would be heir, whereas Eliezer said that he would be the heir. A heavenly voice finally said, “Neither of you will be heir, for in Isaac shall the Seed come.”
    Notice that Abraham had told the servants that “we will return to you” ( ). Rashi states this was a prophecy of Isaac’s resurrection, though other sages say that it meant that Abraham would return with his ashes. The New Testament comments that this was evidence that Abraham believed that God would resurrect Isaac from the dead (Heb. 11:17-19). Abraham believed that - despite the coming sacrifice of his son - both of them would return.
    “They Went Together...”
    “And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son. And he took in his hand the fire and the knife. So they went both of them together” (Gen. 22:6). Isaac carried the wood and Abraham carried the fire and knife. According to Jewish tradition, Isaac was a 37 year old man who suspected that he was indeed going to be offered up as a sacrifice (Seder Olam Rabbah). Nevertheless, he did not flee from his father but continued to trust in him... They ascended the mountain together.
    
    But Isaac needed to make sure of what was really happening. He needed to understand what was being asked of him. “And Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here am I, my son.” And he said, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” (Gen. 22:7). This is the first word of dialog recorded over the three day journey... It is hard to imagine Isaac’s pathos during this exchange. The grammar of the dialog is somewhat odd. Why does the Torah say that Isaac said to his father Abraham? And why does Isaac call out to Abraham as my father ( )? You can almost hear Isaac’s faltering words to his father: “he said ... [ silence ] ... he said, ‘my father....’ he said, ‘...but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?’ (for more on this, see the “Passion of Isaac”). “Isaac called out to his father, “Father,” in order to arouse his mercy, not so that Abraham would be overcome with emotion and change his plans, but rather so that his love would be offered upon the altar” (Imrei Emes).
    
    
    Abraham replied, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So they went both of them together (Gen. 22:8). Notice that the Hebrew could be read: “God will provide the lamb for the burnt offering -- my son!”( ) - making it plain that Isaac was himself to be offered upon the altar. According to midrash, upon hearing this, Isaac put his face between his hands and wept. “Is this the Torah about which you spoke to mother?” he sobbed. When Abraham heard this, he wept also. But Isaac controlled himself and sought to comfort his father: “Do not feel distressed, my father. Fulfill your Creator’s will through me! May my blood be an atonement for the future Jewish people” (Bereshit Rabbah). The Torah then repeats the phrase, “and they both walked on together,” indicating that Isaac had accepted his sacrificial death. Isaac had yielded his strength in perfect surrender and trust to his father, while Abraham held his beloved son’s hand, afraid that he might lose courage and run away.
    Love’s Great Sacrifice...
    “When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built the altar there
    and laid the wood in order and bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood” (Gen. 22:9). Here we are reaching the climax of the narrative. Abraham built the altar on Moriah and “arranged the wood in order.” According to tradition, this altar was in the very same place as the one built by Adam and later destroyed by the flood. It was
    rebuilt by Noah but later destroyed by Nimrod after the Dispersion of Babel. Now it was rebuilt by Abraham. Isaac presumably watched all of this in dreadful anticipation, yet he submitted to his father in complete trust. The aged Abraham then “bound Isaac his son” ( ) and carefully laid him on the altar, “on top of the wood.” According to the Talmud, Isaac asked his father to make the knots on his hands and feet tighter - not out of fear that he would change his mind and begin to resist - but in order to encourage his father to offer the sacrifice properly (Bereshit Rabbah 56:8). Since kosher slaughtering required the sacrificial victim’s throat to be cut quickly, Isaac wanted to ensure that he did not flinch and thereby invalidate the sacrifice... Like the Suffering Servant who would come after
    him, Isaac “set his face like a flint” to fulfill God’s will (Isa. 50:7).
    
    Isaac kept his eyes directed toward heaven as he lay tightly bound and motionless upon the altar. He awaited the final blow and wanted it to fall with love and obedience within his heart. It was to be a shared sacrifice between the beloved son and his father. Finally “Abraham stretched out his hand and took the knife to slaughter (i.e., , from shechitah) his son” (Gen. 22:10). The Talmud says that when Abraham “stretched out” his hand, he briefly examined the knife to determine if it was ritually fit, and this delay was the precise moment when the Angel of the LORD ( ) called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” (Gen. 22:11). According to various midrashim,
    
    
    when Abraham put his knife to his son’s neck, Isaac’s soul departed from him, but it returned when the Angel of the LORD said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me” (Gen. 22:12). Abraham then immediately released Isaac and recited the blessing, “Blessed are You, LORD, who revives the dead.”
    The Lamb of God
    
    “And Abraham lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns. And Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering in place of his son” (Gen. 22:13). The ram was offered tachat b’no ( , lit. “underneath” or “in exchange” for his son), which is the key idea of substitutionary atonement (i.e., the Korban Principle). The midrash says that throughout each step of the sacrifice of the ram, Abraham prayed, “May God regard this as though it were my son...” Abraham then said, “Master of the Universe, when you commanded me to offer Isaac as a sacrifice, I could have contradicted you, but I suppressed all arguments in order to do Your will. If my sons sin in future times, remember Isaac’s binding, suppress your anger, and forgive them.” Here again is the Rosh Hashanah connection. As the Talmud says, “The Holy One, blessed be He, said, ‘Sound before Me the ram’s horn so that I may remember on your behalf the binding of Isaac and account it to you as if you had bound yourselves before Me’“ (Rosh Hashanah 16a).
    
    
    “The Mount of the LORD...”
    
    So Abraham called the name of that place, Adonai Yireh (“The LORD will See”); as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the LORD He shall be seen” (Gen. 22:14). Interestingly, the name Moriah ( ) comes from the same verb ra’ah ( ), “to see” (with the divine Yah- [ ] suffix). There is a play on words here. It was at Moriah (lit. “seen by YHVH”) that Abraham called the LORD Adonai Yireh ( ), “the LORD will see [our need]” in reference to the provision of substitutionary sacrifice in Isaac’s place. Mount Moriah (i.e., Zion) is central to Jewish history. It is the place where Jacob dreamed of the ladder to heaven, it is the site of the Holy Temple, and it is the place
    
    
    Reaffirmation of Love
    As the smoke of the sacrificial ram ascended in place of Abraham’s son, the Angel of the LORD called to Abraham a second time from heaven and said, “By myself I have sworn, declares the LORD, because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you, and I will surely multiply your offspring as the stars of heaven and as the sand that is on the seashore. And your offspring shall possess the gate of his enemies, and in your offspring shall all the nations of the earth be blessed, because you have obeyed my voice” (Gen. 22:15-18). The phrase, “by myself have I sworn” is the most solemn oath God could make and must be regarded as an inviolable vow (see also Isa. 45:23, Jer. 22:5, 49:13, 51:14; Amos 6:8; Heb. 6:13-14). Because of Abraham’s great faith and obedience (“because you have obeyed my voice”), God personally vowed to establish His covenant with Abraham and his descendants forever.
    The promise of the “Gospel in the Garden,” originally given to Adam and Eve, was preserved through godly line of Seth to Noah, and then again (after the Flood) from Shem to the promised Seed of Abraham. Isaac was a picture of the greater Seed to come, the Eternal Redeemer who would be sacrificed as a blessing to all the families of the earth” (Gen. 12:3). God’s plan was always to bring the Promised Redeemer to Moriah for the salvation of the human race...
    Resurrection of Isaac...
    
    “So Abraham returned to his young men, and they arose and went together to Beersheba. And Abraham lived at Beersheba” (Gen. 22:19). There is a tradition that Abraham actually went through with the act of sacrifice on Moriah. After all, the subsequent text shows Abraham returning alone from the mountain (the verb describing Abraham’s return is singular). So where was Isaac? According to this tradition he was left “as ash” upon the altar -- though later God miraculously brought him back to life. In other words, Isaac suffered martyrdom and was resurrected from the dead. Another midrash says that though Abraham did not actually go through with the sacrifice (his hand was stayed by the Angel), the trauma caused Isaac to flee from his father and to seek refuge with Noah’s son Shem (who was considered “Malki-Tzedek” and the high priest of Salem).
    
    
    The Midrash Hagadol states, “Although Isaac did not die, Scripture regards him as though he had died. And his ashes lay piled on the altar. That is why the text mentions Abraham and not Isaac.”
    “I will go...”
    It is fascinating that we hear nothing about Isaac after the Akedah until we read of Abraham’s commissioning of Eliezer to find Isaac a bride. Isaac is not even mentioned during the time of the death of his mother Sarah. Is this an analogy of the hiddenness of Yeshua to the Jewish people? Abraham returned to his servants alone, while Isaac remained out of sight until a Gentile bride (i.e., Rebekah) was brought to him. Rebekah was willing to leave her family - all that she knew - based on an “otherworldly” promise. Her response to the invitation was simply: “I will go”(Gen. 24:58). This courageous willingness was likewise a characteristic of Abraham who was willing to leave his homeland in search of the greater things of God. Like Abraham, Rebekah was ger
    
    v’ toshav - a “stranger and a sojourner” - who left everything behind in order to become part of God’s chosen family... She is therefore a “picture” of those who likewise say “I will go” to become joined to our beloved Messiah.