I follow you, Isaac, this morning from afar,
in the pages of my prayerbook.
At this point, you do not know that your father is on trial.
You don’t know that you stand on trial.
You and Abraham are physically together,
and you and him have very different perceptions
of the purpose of this day.
You have left the attendants behind halfway through the journey,
and you and your father walk off together.
Rashi1 teaches me
that your father walks with what looks like happiness,
aware that he was going to slay his son.
You walked along with willingness and joy
without any idea of what was going to happen.
I see it in your eyes that in your mind
Avraham and you are having a private moment.
I see you walking along
so happy,
feeling so protected,
in this special day with your father.
How much you have looked up to him…
How much you have wanted
to spend some time alone with him,
not having to share him with anyone else.
All you know is that you are walking to fulfill a commandment of this God that speaks to your father,
this God shrouded in mystery,
this God that cannot be seen,
and that you have never heard.
This is such a special moment!
Your eyes follow a beautiful butterfly,
you feel the sweet autumn air in your face,
you smell the perfume of the pomegranate tree, heavy with fruit.
You do not notice,
that danger lurks on the way,
that your father is not the only one
facing this trial.
All you know is that your father Abraham
is sharing this precious relationship with you,
the connection with God,
and you try to do the best you can
to understand it.
That’s when you notice the eerie silence,
that your mom was not there to say goodbye when you left,
that your father carried a strange knife2
and that he is not paying that much attention to you.
You ask your father
“where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”
And his answer makes you lose your confidence.
“God will show us the sheep.”
The Gerer rebbe3 says that in this verse you repeat the word “father” twice
so that you could show your father you understood his trial
and that you loved him.
You wanted your father to bind you knowing that you were his partner,
with lots of love in your heart.
I think that his answer unsettles you.
Slowly you start acknowledging
the danger of this situation,
and you are awash in confusion,
as you move along.
You ask yourself:
What is my father doing?
Is my father protecting me?
Reality is I…
would never be able to notice
that this trial was also my own.
I would be there,
like you were a few minutes ago,
enjoying the beauty of nature in a gorgeous autumn day.
I would be so happy,
I would be feeling so protected,
walking along with my father.
Radak4 tells me that when you hear the shaky voice as your father answered you,
you understood your part in the equation.
You did. And I see the joy in your face
quickly vanishing.
The excitement of fulfilling a commandment of this God of your father
is slowly turning into apprehension.
I feel your inner tension,
as you ask yourself
if the sheep is you,
or your relationship with your father.
You don’t even know what to believe about this invisible God that has such an all-consuming relationship with you father.
Still, you continue walking
you and your father,
walking off together to the place that God will show you.
I hear your thoughts:
“Father,
I hope you will take care of me.
Do what is best for the two of us.
Dad, my life is in your hands.
Talk to me.
Let me know what is happening.
I am scared.”
Something has changed in you, deeply.
Maybe you feel betrayed?
Maybe anger is bubbling up?
If God has to try your father, why do you have to be a part of it?
Why are you accepting this?
Why don’t you shout?
You come to the chosen place.
You watch, shocked,
as your father prepares the altar, to make you into a sacrifice…
to make your relationship into that sacrifice.
You do not say a word.
Radak says that you asked your father to tie you by your hands and by your feet,
to make sure you would not lack the courage in that last moment.
I look at your face and it is full of doubts,
trying to understand this trial,
hoping to understand your father
or believe in his protection.
You don’t fight against your father.
Your father ties you down.
Your father lifts up the knife
and you see your reflection in it,
you feel the coldness of the iron coming closer and closer.
Suddenly something changes.
I don’t see the same expression,
I don’t see the same resignation.
I see a smile emerging, erasing the doubts etched on your face.
For the first time in your life you hear the angel of God,
and you are safe.
That God that was your father’s is now yours, too.
You hear the angel of God calling your father’s name twice,
and twice the angel tells your father not to go on with the plan.
You feel relief, anger, love, pain, hurt … such a mix of feelings!
And an incredible peace.
You know now that the connection with God is now yours.
Your father sets you free and now,
without speaking,
you help you father tie the ram that the angel has shown him.
look at your father and see how old he has gotten.
In his eyes you see how old you have gotten.
You know that you will never walk off together,
through the paths that lead to other mounts.
You will never speak to him again,
preferring the company of your brother Yishmael and his mother, Hagar.
But you also now that in this moment
you and your father share an eternal treasure
and that your father’s legacy
is now yours.
You became a man of few words,
and many scars.
Maybe if you would have protested the words would not have been silenced from your mouth.
Never again you will be able to walk around without being guarded, with the freedom of one who innocently trusts and believes.
At the end of this bizarre tale
with as much of a happy ending as possible
I ask you:
Couldn’t you have received this legacy without so much suffering?
Many years will go by and we, who will follow in your footsteps,
will receive this inheritance where happiness and pain are forever intertwined.
Again I see that smile.
You will not talk to me in words, but you understand, you understood everything.
Your mission is to make us understand that when we walk together
the inheritance belongs to all of us,
no matter how different it looks and feels to each of us.
In this year that begins right now you teach us to realize
that when we hear that angel talking despair will blossom into a different kind of connection, a new kind of understanding.
We read your story today, Isaac, as we stand on trial.
We know that we bring here our doubts and our fears, our questions and our resigned thoughts.
We also bring our happiness, our love, our joy, our need for relationships….
We bring to this sanctuary our desire to make this legacy ours.
We fight our tradition sometimes, and at times we feel like we do not belong.
But we wish,
Oh! how we hope! …to hear the voice that saved you.
Teach us to listen, Isaac.
Have a good year, you, and all the people that spring from your wisdom.
Shanah Tovah.
1Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki, Troyes, France, 1040-1105)
2Ma’ahelet, the name of this knife in this story, is not the commonly used word for knife. Some biblical scholars believe it is a cleaver.
3Rabbi Yitzhak Myer Alter, Ger, Poland, 1798–1866)
4Rabbi David Kimhi, Spain/France, 1160–1235)