The Akedah and Its Meaning (Column 333)
With God’s help
Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.
On the eve of the second holiday I was asked to speak at a minyan in the parking lot of our building, and I thought that presenting those words here would be worthwhile, both in their own right and because they touch on several points I’ve dealt with in the past.
On both days of Rosh Hashanah we read in the Torah the passages of the Akedah. On the first day we read what Muslims call the “Binding of Ishmael,” and on the second day the Binding of Isaac. It seems that the coronation (hamlakhah) of the Holy One, blessed be He, on Rosh Hashanah requires some foundation of “binding.” I will try here to dwell a bit on that elusive foundation.
Kierkegaard on the Akedah
The Danish existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (see a bit about him in column 140) sees the Akedah and our forefather Abraham as among the most important foundations of his religious outlook. He wrote an entire book on the Akedah in which he explains this, known in Hebrew as Ḥayil Ve-Re‘adah (Fear and Trembling). Kierkegaard explains that a person’s progression toward a religious life proceeds in three stages: the aesthetic, the ethical, and the religious (and as an existentialist, he of course locates them in his personal biography as well). In the aesthetic stage a person goes with the flow and enjoys life (hedonism is an example of an aesthetic life, though not necessarily the only one). One lives according to what one’s nature dictates, and not by principles that seek to subject one’s life to them. After that one rises to the ethical stage, in which nature and the flowing life are subordinated to binding ethical principles. He presupposes—rightly, in my view—a Kantian morality of a heteronomous character. The third stage, the religious, is the highest. A person at this stage binds his desires and nature, and even his reason and his moral principles, before religious obligation (the will of God). Kierkegaard views a “religious” life in this sense as a lofty human (indeed super-human) peak to which everyone should aspire, but which only a few attain (in its fullness). The one and only person who reached it fully is our forefather Abraham at the Akedah. Not for nothing does Kierkegaard call him the “knight of faith,” the most refined and purified believer.
Kierkegaard explains that Abraham at the Akedah did not bind only his son Isaac on the altar. Together with him he bound his reason (for God had promised him that through Isaac he would have offspring, and now demands that he kill him) and certainly also bound his morality, and even his paternal feelings, which are the essence of positive natural life. This is the religious stage that demands the absolute binding of everything that is not it, positive and negative alike. The aesthetic and the ethical are bound roughly and mercilessly before religious commitment.
According to Kierkegaard, the main lesson of the Akedah is the religious exemplar Abraham gave us. The knight of faith gave us a pure model of living by religious obligation—one that demands a person bind everything he has, in fact himself, before religious duty. Here we can see the conception that sets “the religious” against “the human,” living in paradox. If an ordinary person is called to live by reason and morality, a religious person is required to live in paradox. Reason and morality are not bad things, of course; and yet we are required to bind them and live contrary to them by force of the religious command. In a certain sense, pure religiosity is conceived as opposed to reason and morality, or at least as something not subordinate or obligated to them. This is a prevalent Christian conception, and one of its most distilled expressions is Tertullian’s saying (?), Credo quia absurdum est, that is, “I believe because it is absurd.” Note well—not “despite it being absurd,” but “because it is absurd.” For him, faith must be bound up with absurdity; otherwise, religious life is merely the life of a rational person, and that’s all (cf. Pietism).
Pietism in Judaism
Tomer Persico drew an interesting comparison between this approach and the commitment to mitzvot in Judaism. Yet despite that, it is commonly thought that in Judaism this is not the central approach. It is hard to deny that pietism is not the mainstream stream in Jewish thought and religiosity. Even before Maimonides, who expressed this rather sharply, Judaism appears to be a more rational (or rationalist) religion than Christianity, despite the mystical and non-rational elements it contains (the mitzvot do not look like the embodiment of purely rational life, morality, and logic). Certainly in its mainstream there is no glorification of those non-rational elements, even though in recent generations this has entered Jewish thought with great force. I think this process gained strong momentum (even if it didn’t begin there) from Kabbalah through Hasidism, and continued in contemporary postmodern apologetic currents that try to sidestep critiques of faith by fleeing into subjective-mystical realms (and not coincidentally lean on Kabbalah and Hasidism). And here we arrive at Rav Kook.
As is well known, Rav Kook’s thought is open to various interpretations (there is no idea I have ever said or written that someone didn’t tell me is found in Rav Kook’s writings)[1]. It is therefore difficult to speak of Rav Kook’s “doctrine,” or of his mode of thought. We are dealing with eclectic writings, and it is doubtful whether at their foundation there is a systematic doctrine.[2] Someone once told me that Rav Kook had three central disciples, and each took his thought in a different direction. R. Harlap created a Haredi stream among Rav Kook’s students (many early Jerusalem Ḥaredim, such as R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and R. Elyashiv, belong there). R. Tzvi Yehuda, his son, fashioned from his thought a rather fanatical messianic-Zionist doctrine (which in recent years has been distilled into the “line” of R. Tau). And “the Nazir” turned Rav Kook’s thought into a philosophical system standing in relation to philosophical approaches circulating in the wider world (though here there is no defined beit midrash but rather a cluster of individuals). It is no wonder that the renewed Jewish irrationalism hangs upon Rav Kook’s thought, mixed with Hasidic-Kabbalistic elements.[3] I think it combines those three streams. Against this background, it is especially interesting to examine Rav Kook’s interpretation of the Akedah.
Rav Kook on the Akedah
It has already been noted that Rav Kook’s description of the Akedah (as with many rabbinic midrashim) parallels Kierkegaard’s description (I won’t enter here into the question of influence or its direction; that’s of no interest to me). He addresses the matter in his commentary on the Akedah in his siddur ‘Olat Re’iyah. Rav Kook goes with Kierkegaard the whole way in a very similar fashion, but there is a dramatic difference at the end that turns the bowl upside-down. He argues that the conclusion of the Akedah is not the obligation to bind and be bound before religious duty, but in a sense the exact opposite: “Do not stretch out your hand to the lad.” In his view, God wished to teach Abraham that true faith does not require a person to bind himself, his values, and his common sense and reason before religious duty. On the contrary: there should be an identity between all these and God’s demands. Seemingly this is the exact opposite of the lesson Kierkegaard learned from the Akedah. According to Rav Kook, the Akedah primarily came to take us out of Kierkegaard’s conception.
Combining the Two Conceptions: Binding or Willingness to Bind
Briefly, we can present it like this. Rav Kook argues that the lesson of the Akedah is that there cannot be a contradiction between God’s will and our reason, morality, and emotion. The religious does not contradict the ethical, and not even the aesthetic. Kierkegaard, by contrast, maintains that the lesson of the Akedah is that there is an inherent contradiction, and the religious person is required to bind the ethical—and certainly the aesthetic—on the religious altar. Yet both of them cannot ignore the facts described in Scripture. There we see, on the one hand, that there was a demand for binding, but on the other hand Abraham is ultimately commanded not to bind his son. On the face of it, both Rav Kook and Kierkegaard are right, but both are also wrong. The picture each describes is apparently only partial.
It seems to me we can integrate their two pictures with the biblical description as follows: what is required of the religious person is the willingness to bind his son and himself, but not necessarily binding in practice. That may in fact contradict God’s will. If we adopt this description, there is no impediment to saying that Kierkegaard would accept it as well, for he too agrees that in the final analysis God tells Abraham, “Do not stretch out your hand to the lad.”
Here I recall a difficulty I once heard regarding the midrashim and piyyutim that speak of “Isaac’s ashes” being piled upon the altar. The rhetoric is quite puzzling, for Isaac in the end was not bound. The ram was offered up in his stead. So whence Isaac’s ashes on the altar? According to my suggestion here, it is the willingness to bind that was constructed and expressed in the Akedah, and in that sense “Isaac’s ashes” are the willingness to bind him and not the result of his actual binding. Perhaps it is more correct to say that they are more Abraham’s ashes than Isaac’s.
This picture raises two difficulties: one theoretical and the other educational. The theoretical: what value is there in a willingness to bind if binding is not required? And the educational: even if theoretically there is value in the willingness to bind, how can one educate toward a willingness to bind if one knows in advance that no binding will be required? We shall address them now, one after the other.
The Theoretical Difficulty: What Is the Value of Willingness to Bind Without Binding?
One can certainly wonder what value there is in the willingness to bind if in the end no binding is required. Is this not needless vexation? We can understand this through the discussion about the value in processes, which I addressed in my article on Zeno’s arrow. The assumption underlying the difficulty is that a process is always instrumental, and the goal is the state to which the process leads. When I move to some place, my aim is to arrive there. The movement is a means to being in the intended place. When I renovate a house, that is a means to fashioning a complete, beautiful, or more sophisticated house. Yet in that article I argued that this is not necessarily the case. Sometimes a process has value in and of itself, and not merely as a means to the state to which it leads.
In column 32 I addressed this in the context of repentance. The Sages say that a ba‘al teshuvah is preferable to a perfectly righteous person, which is puzzling. A perfect penitent can at best become a perfect person—that is, a perfectly righteous person. How can he be preferable to a perfectly righteous one? It would seem that the point is that the process of repentance has value in and of itself, not only as a means to reaching a more complete spiritual state. Therefore, a penitent who has reached the level of a perfectly righteous person has two advantages: he traversed the path of repentance (he improved), and he is now in a complete spiritual state. He is therefore preferable to a perfectly righteous person who has only the latter advantage.
In light of this, it may be that the willingness to bind and sacrifice has value not only in the sense that it will cause me to act accordingly when necessary. The willingness to sacrifice is not merely a means so that I will behave correctly if I am required to sacrifice. The willingness to sacrifice has value in and of itself. One can see in it an expression of connection to God, but in that column I noted that improvement has intrinsic value as a complement to God. There I quoted Rav Kook regarding perfection and perfecting, and in column 170 I further discussed this in relation to “the secret that worship serves a need on high,” and I will not repeat myself here.
Accordingly, what is required of a person is the willingness to sacrifice, even though in practice he will never be required to sacrifice and bind. The willingness to bind oneself before God has value in and of itself. This resolves the theoretical difficulty of why willingness to sacrifice is required without the need for sacrifice itself. But here a knotty educational question arises: how can one educate a person to sacrifice when it will never be required of him? In particular, one who has learned the Akedah with Rav Kook’s commentary knows that in the end he will never be required to sacrifice. How, then, can he be educated toward the willingness to sacrifice? From his perspective, ultimately this is mere lip service.
The Educational Difficulty: Why Is the Thorny Path Required?
To understand this, I will begin with a question that follows from Rav Kook’s approach: if indeed in the end no actual binding is required, why did Abraham have to undergo all this trauma to reach the conclusion that none of it was necessary? Could this not have been said from the outset, and that would be that? It turns out that if one tells a person in advance that his values and reason always and necessarily align with the divine demands, this is a sure recipe for emptying his faith and religious commitment. Nothing is easier than to do and think whatever I want and hang it on God. For by definition, He does not want me to bind my reason and my morality—and not even my natural feelings (like a father’s love for his son). In short, the religious becomes the ethical and perhaps even the aesthetic. In this sense Rav Kook actually connects with Kierkegaard’s picture, for he emphasizes that something at the religious level indeed demands binding. Only that the binding is not required in practice, but rather a willingness to bind. Therefore, before we are taught that in fact there is no need to bind, it is very important to traverse the path that demands binding, and only at the end may a heavenly voice come forth and tell us: “Do not stretch out your hand to the lad.” This thorny path was meant to solve the educational difficulty I described.
It seems to me that in our world as well one can see a similar phenomenon. On the one hand, there are people (and your humble servant is often accused of this) who readily hang everything they themselves think on God. What seems to me rational and/or moral—that is God’s will. I can thus do what I think and what I want, and think what seems to me reasonable, and still call myself a servant of God. This is a tried-and-true recipe for walking a path that is not God’s will while spreading the illusion that it necessarily is. Do whatever you like, and in the end just say that this is God’s will (and quote Rav Kook). On the other hand, there are people whose starting assumption is that if something aligns with reason and morality, it cannot be God’s will—It’s too good to be Kosher.
What Rav Kook proposes is that indeed it is possible and fitting to live that way—but only after you have undergone a process of binding. After a person has shown that he is ready to bind his reason and morality before the divine command and will, then one can give him credit and allow him to conduct himself according to his natural and rational way. After he passes a trial and forging, his inner will is an authentic will and not a random impulse. Only an authentic will, according to Rav Kook, necessarily aligns with God’s will. The aim of the forging process (the Akedah) is to create and consolidate the authenticity of our will.
This has educational ramifications. When a child is raised with the policy that what he thinks and wants is necessarily God’s will, this is a tried-and-true recipe for non-commitment, cutting corners, and “lightness.” The person will grow up such that what he wants is God’s will; God thus takes no real part in his deliberations and serves merely as a fig leaf for ordinary aesthetic (and at best, ethical) life.
This complement to Rav Kook’s picture provides the solution to the educational question I raised above. Indeed, a person who already knows the final lesson of the Akedah—that is, one who has learned ‘Olat Re’iyah and knows the bottom line—can likely no longer be raised on a willingness to sacrifice. From his perspective, the game is rigged. Therefore it is very important to expose a person to this complex doctrine at a relatively late stage. At first one must raise him on willingness to sacrifice, and demand of him the sacrifice of his thoughts and desires to God’s will. At this stage there is certainly logic in presenting to him a “Kierkegaardian” religiosity, namely, a demanding religiosity that assumes the divine command owes nothing to my reason or to my moral values. But this is only an initial educational stage, and it presents only a partial picture of the world. After that, one must also teach the child ‘Olat Re’iyah and the verse “Do not stretch out your hand to the lad.” To raise a person whose religious outlook is “It’s too good to be Kosher” is a grave religious failure.
This, as I understand it, is Rav Kook’s proposal. But on this proposal, education necessarily involves holy lies or at least a partial presentation of the world. I described my view on holy lies in column 21 and elsewhere. Below I will propose an upgrade that obviates the element of falsehood in this path.
“Conqueror” and “Upright”
In chapter six of Shemonah Perakim, Maimonides discusses whether preferable is the person he calls “the superior,” who does good naturally, or the person who conquers his inclination—that is, one whose nature tries to draw him elsewhere, but he subjects himself to the principles of the good and the fitting. In Rav Kook’s terminology, this dilemma is formulated in several places (see e.g. ‘Ein Ayah, Berakhot 6:24) as a dilemma between the “upright” (yashar) and the “conqueror” (kovesh). In the end Maimonides concludes that in rational/moral commandments the “upright” is preferable, whereas in “heard” (i.e., purely revelatory) commandments the “conqueror” is preferable.
At first glance this dilemma mirrors ours. But that is not necessary. A person can be a “conqueror” on the ethical plane—i.e., be formed such that his natural tendency is to do harm (or not always to do good), but he conquers his inclination and subjects it to moral values. Such a person is not Kierkegaardian, for what dictates his path are moral values and not religious duties. He identifies the divine commands with moral values, yet he conquers his inclinations before them. One can also be “upright,” namely, formed such that one’s nature draws one to do good, while espousing a Kierkegaardian conception that demands subordinating the good to the divine command. Thus, apparently the two discussions are independent.
Even so, it is fairly clear there is a connection between them. For example, a person who holds Rav Kook’s conception—that is, who identifies halakhah (the divine command) with morality and reason—is more prone to fail in the non-commitment (“lightness”) described above. No wonder Rav Kook demands prior binding as a training path intended to consolidate authentic will, only after which one may act “naturally.”
Now I can present my proposal, according to which there is no need for holy lies even in the initial educational stage. I will illustrate and sharpen this through questions of halakhah and morality.
Applying This to Halakhah and Morality
Rav Kook is among those who identify these two categories. For him, no contradiction can exist between halakhah and morality; indeed the entire purpose of halakhah is to conduct oneself according to the perfect divine morality. It is no surprise that there are quite a few people who lean on him when they easily choose the moral course even when it appears to contradict halakhah. They are unwilling to perform an immoral act, yet do not see in that a religious problem.[4] In contrast, those who demand subordinating morality to halakhah will not fail in this way. But they will fail in the opposite way: acting in a manifestly immoral manner simply because halakhah seems to direct us thus. They will not always bother to check whether this is indeed the halakhic command, for in their view there is no connection between halakhah and morality—and perhaps the opposite: if this is ordinary natural morality, then what is religious/divine about it?[5]
In column 15 I proposed a third way (spelled out more in the beginning of the third book of the trilogy, and even more in the lecture series here): halakhah and morality are two independent categories that both derive from God’s will, and both are binding. I further argued there that, unlike halakhah, morality is not learned from the Torah but mainly from the conscience planted in us, and that there is no such thing as “Jewish morality,” etc. Morality is morality, for every person, Jew or gentile. I explained there the logic of this view and showed that it resolves most of the difficulties the other two paths fail to overcome. Here I will only note that this path parallels the conclusion of my analysis of the Akedah, and I will show its educational advantages.
Commitment to a divine command unrelated to morality is essentially the “conqueror”—that is, the willingness to bind reason and morality before God’s will. I am obligated to the commands of halakhah even if I do not understand their purpose and why it is correct and fitting to act thus. But alongside this, it is clear to me that God also wants us to conduct ourselves morally and act by moral values, and this, as noted, is implanted in us and in our natural feelings (the conscience). Such a structure creates conflicts, of course, but this is the meaning of walking a middle path. As I explained in the sources cited, in the proposed picture there is no priority to morality over halakhah or vice versa. Both have equal standing, and when there is a conflict, sometimes this prevails and sometimes that.
In light of the description I proposed above, one can say that a person committed to halakhah in this (Kierkegaardian) sense may also act according to his natural moral values, and the concern that he is hanging God’s will to realize his impulses is reduced (though it always exists—these are the “biases” of moralists). In the end there is here a combination of Kierkegaard’s and Rav Kook’s pictures: on the ethical plane Rav Kook is right, and on the religious plane Kierkegaard is right, and the synthesis of both brings us to a picture they share (willingness to bind and sacrifice together with following our natural values and insights).
Upgrading the Picture of the Akedah
This is the educational upgrade I mentioned above. Note that according to the picture described here there is no need for holy lies even at the initial educational stages. The child here is raised on intellectual and moral integrity—that is, on commitment to morality and reason as he himself understands them (without talk of “upper, divine, Jewish morality” that no one understands). But alongside this there is commitment to halakhah that is not grounded on the foundations of morality and reflects a different value system. And here there is commitment to a-moral and sometimes even anti-moral principles. The dual commitment to these two systems does combined work: there is in it a willingness to sacrifice without relinquishing what I myself believe. I present here an educational advantage of my theoretical conception of halakhah and morality—though of course adopting it rests on its theoretical advantages. This is merely an added bonus.
What About the Aesthetic?
The description above touches the seam between the ethical and the religious. What about the aesthetic plane? Do our natural desires also have standing? Is this too a normative category with independent standing? For Rav Kook, it seems clear that the answer is yes. He speaks at length in his commentary on the Akedah about the importance of natural feeling and simple human desires as expressing ethical principles. My humble self does not accept this. In my view, feeling has no normative standing; it does not express values but mainly juices (as opposed to intuition, which is a cognitive faculty).[6] Therefore, in my opinion our natural desires ought indeed to be bound before the ethical (morality) and also before the religious (halakhah).
Yet I will add one remark: before binding, one should check very carefully whether such binding is indeed required. Contrary to a conception that sees a built-in opposition between the planes, I believe there is no necessity that our natural desires be bad or that there is always a need to overcome them. Quite a few of our desires are entirely legitimate (even if they lack value in themselves), and there is no reason to suspect that everything pleasant and enjoyable is forbidden. Once again I reject the anti-principle that accompanies us along the way, namely: It’s too good to be Kosher.
[1] As well as R. Tzadok, the Maharal, and R. Naḥman.
[2] Well known are the Nazir’s words about the editing of Orot Ha-Kodesh (according to him, this was done after he asked Rav Kook whether his words constitute a systematic doctrine, and received an affirmative answer).
[3] A salient example is the thesis of the “unity of opposites,” discussed in my article on belief in logical contradictions. Its source is the Christian Nicholas of Cusa, but many attribute it to Rav Kook (see Meir Munitz’s article, and two notes in Benny Ish-Shalom’s book, Rav Kook – Between Rationalism and Mysticism, that attribute to Rav Kook Łukasiewicz’s three-valued logic. See note 5 in my article cited, and also a paragraph in chapter 2 of my article “What Is ‘Applicability’?”). This thesis is the bluntest manifestation of religious irrationalism, for it claims the possibility of believing logical contradictions. I assume I need not present my view on such a thesis (see, for example, the articles cited and also elsewhere on the site).
[4] I note that other disciples of his define the halakhic command as the ultimate morality, and therefore trample morality without batting an eye—but out of a feeling of absolute moral completeness. This approach approaches the opposite view that recognizes no morality other than halakhah.
[5] Similar to the approach Maimonides describes in Part III of the Guide of the Perplexed regarding ta‘amei ha-mitzvot (reasons for commandments): that they cannot have reasons, for if so—what is religious/divine about them?!
[6] Therefore, sometimes those who speak of the value of feelings mean intuitions, in which case there is no disagreement. But I have shown more than once that the disagreement is real, and there are situations and claims regarding which there is no agreement (attributing value to a state that is manifestly a feeling and not an intuition). For example, in my view a father’s love for his son has no value. By contrast, the value whereby a father sees himself as obligated to care for and provide for his son is of course important. See column 22, the series beginning with column 311, and also my article On Commandments of Emotion in Halakhah.
Thanks for the interesting things.
And yet, what should a person do in a situation of conflict between the ethical and the religious, what should he follow, the dictates of his conscience or the dictates of the Halacha.
To put the two levels under one roof or sometimes to strengthen them, when both are in the same direction but sometimes to cancel one, in the case of a contradiction.
Doesn't “Do not lay your hand on the boy” prove, in the end, that the moral imperative prevails and the Halacha is also subordinate to it.
Happy New Year
Conjunctions are a Torah-like concept that has no criteria. But this is also true between two religious values or two moral values. I expanded on this in the above sources.
Rabbi Kook's proof is of course only for his method that identifies halakha with morality. I disagree.
I read the article. Excellent as usual. I will comment that in my opinion today the need for ”Akeeda”. In a practical, everyday way, it is almost irrelevant and everything is basically theoretical, after all. How many of us encounter a daily reality in which. For example, in the most banal way. We have to decide whether to save a dying Gentile child on Shabbat. Or whether to throw an inciting and ostracizing infidel professor into the pit? The polemics that occur around the subject mainly relate to the approach in which our consciousness operates. That is, to what extent theoretically are we willing to put a line on moral values in case of need (in the most fundamentalist circles). And this is a trend that is very strong among Orthodox Jews today. The very act of positivity or moral consciousness is reprehensible. Since there is a certain assumption that everything that goes against the moral instinct or human logic is more divine.
In my opinion, what You wrote about the fact that if we worship God rationally, that is, from a rational decision and simply go by what we think, there is a danger that this indicates that we are worshipping ourselves. And we need to go through a process of refining. It is not true in the case of Judaism. Because as soon as there are practical religious commandments and decrees that are fulfilled, there is an acceptance of the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven. This may be true for a traditional-bourgeois lifestyle. But religiosity comes down to nice prayers and exciting events (which are combined with a strong affection for the tradition of the fathers along with a very weak level of obligation). And this is true both for the type of "traditional Israelis" and for bourgeois Christians in most of the world. And as for progressive religions, where the rules of ethics are all the true religious acts and nothing more. In such a case, there is a real fear that the person is worshipping his own values and saying that the source His authority comes from God (and even then it is not certain. It is very possible that a person who has studied Judaism his entire life and has come to the conclusion, even if it is very far-fetched in my opinion, that the complete and supreme divine will is precisely in the writings of Abraham Geiger.). But in my opinion, Leibowitz's assertion that only religiosity that is expressed in practical commandments on a daily basis will bring about the acceptance of the true Kingdom of Heaven was and remains correct. In most cases
I think you just translated my argument. I distinguished between moral acts and religious-halakhic acts.
The writers of the Bible updated (as Bible commentators always do) stories that were centuries old in their time, and adapted them to their time. The writers of the Bible explained reality using theological tools of reward and punishment and always blamed Israel for the troubles that came upon them. The story of the Akedah was necessary to mark and promote the highest standard for that belief in reward and punishment, which only one person in Israel supposedly lived up to, and that was Abraham. And yet to this day, when we have already passed the fifth of the 21st century, that foolish belief remains and has been updated again and again, of course. Until when will the wicked (who go against morality for the sake of words in a book) get away with it?
Could Rav Kook's approach indicate that there were two attempts at tying? Both the attempt at tying and the attempt not to tie in the end?
There are people for whom not to tie a knot is indeed an experience. I think Rabbi Kook wrote this commentary for them.
The things are illuminating.
And I will add that, as you have argued, I have resolved the contradiction in the baraita of Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair and in the Masalah on celibacy versus holiness. In celibacy there is a demand for celibacy, while in holiness there is holiness that is expressed in the material, such as on Shabbat or eating a sacrifice. And I argued that these are two stages. The person must be willing to celibacy, and also to celibacy, but for a certain time. The final desire is complete holiness that is also expressed in the material. But in order for the holy one not to be a liar, a glutton, and a hypocrite under the guise of sanctifying the material and raising sparks, there must come a readiness for celibacy.
He offers a simple interpretation of the binding: Abraham understood that God is omnipotent and therefore there is no contradiction between the promise of the land to his seed and the commandment of the binding. Isaac will bind and then God will bring him back to life. This explains “and we will bow down and return to you.” Not to reassure the boys, but because it is clear to him that they will return. You say, then what is the great trial? We see you binding your son out of faith that God will bring him back to life! And apparently one also needs a deep conviction that the commandment did indeed come from God and not from hallucinations. One needs a great deal of faith for that. But this interpretation greatly empties the need to deal with the contradiction between an unethical commandment and the fulfillment of a religious commandment.
According to you, there is no ethical decision here, but only an epistemological doubt about the certainty of the prophecy, whether it is indeed G-d who is speaking to him. Because if G-d spoke to him and the excuse is very simple that Isaac will be resurrected, then this is not an attempt at a decision, but rather a scientific hypothesis about what reality and G-d's will are. And furthermore, if G-d is omnipotent, then what is the problem with Isaac becoming infertile and dying and yet having a seed for Abraham through a miracle (and it must also be said that G-d is omnipotent in such a way that there is no contradiction between the fact that there cannot be a contradiction in the promises and the fact that in practice there will be a contradiction and a contradiction)
Perhaps. Although it is debatable whether when Isaac is resurrected it will be the same son who is the seed of Abraham. As is known, Rabbi discussed Elijah's wife whether she is permitted to him after he returns to life, and so did the Rishonim regarding Naddar not entering his father's house and a house fell and was built.
According to my suggestion, the chatter is unnecessary. From Abraham's perspective (I turn to you), the Isaac who will return after the Akedah is the same Isaac in whom he will be called Zera. If later the halakha determines that Elijah's wife is permissible - this does not concern Abraham. He is certain that there is no conflict between ethics and Akedah. But as I wrote - this is still a very big experiment.
It is possible that when Abraham says to his young men, “And we will return to you,” he is assuming and hoping that this is just an experiment. After all, Abraham went through several trials in which he entered into great danger and was ultimately saved, such as in the war with the four kings and in taking Pharaoh’s servants and then Abimelech’s, so he has reason to believe that this is also an experiment in which salvation will come.
On the other hand, there is still doubt that this time it is “truly an offering,” and especially that here he receives an explicit divine command to offer his son as a burnt offering, and a divine command should not be annulled. And this doubt intensifies the beatings of the soul on the way to the akeidah.
With blessings, Sh”t
In truth, it must be said that there was no change here in the divine command to offer his son as an offering, but rather a renewed understanding of the meaning of the concept of ‘offering’. ‘Offering’ from an animal is indeed intended to be sacrificed and completely burned on the altar, but ‘offering’ from a human being – is spiritually elevated, consecrated to a life of devotion and devotion, elevated and spiritually elevated to a higher life.
Paragraph 1, line 4
… So he has reason to think that here too…
In the Sadducee, He is your life, teshuvah
It is possible that the insight that “and offer him to me as a burnt offering” is a person’s dedication to the service of the Lord, was before Hannah’s eyes, who promised her that if he gave her a son, “I will give him to her all the days of his life.” Even Jephthah’s vow to offer as a burnt offering the one who came out to meet him as a burnt offering was fulfilled, according to some commentators, by dedicating his daughter to the service of the Lord.
With a blessing, Sha’z
It should be noted that both in Isaac and in Samuel, dedication to the service of the Lord does not mean withdrawal from family life and occupation with the world. Even regarding the daughter of Jephthah, Rabbi Avraham Shear-Yeshu (the elder in Haifa, in the introduction to his book “Nativ Avraham”) explained that her refusal to marry was not part of the vow, but rather because there was no man in the generation who was willing to marry a woman whose entire life was consecrated to God. And for this the Israelites wept.
In paragraph 1, line 3
… ‘And I gave it to the Lord’ …
In paragraph 2, line 3
Rabbi Avraham Shaar-Yishuv, the late ”L…
Ibid., line 6
… And for this the daughters of Israel wept.
In the 15th century,
In his piyote for Hoshana Rabbah, ‘Ana azon hin ta'abi yisha'ach’, Rabbi Elazar the Clear reminds us that Isaac prayed for his salvation during the Akeda, and thus the poet says: ‘Ana full of wishes with a beggar, we are beggared as on Mount Morah the beggar’.
As Professor Yona Frankel (who completed the cycle of his father-in-law Dr. Daniel Goldschmidt on the holiday of Sukkot) noted, this matter, that Isaac prayed for his salvation, is not found in the midrashim before us, and perhaps is the poet's innovation.
Perhaps this was one of the purposes of the Akeda, to inspire Isaac to be a ‘man of prayer’, who turns to his God with requests.
Later, Isaac will ask for mercy “in the presence of his wife, because she is barren,” and indeed she will conceive. When they dig the third well, he thanks her and asks: “Now the Lord has enlarged us and made us fruitful in the land,” and later Isaac blesses his son: “And may the Lord grant you, etc.”
In Abraham, we find more prayers for strangers, for the people of Sodom, and for Abimelech. Isaac is more daring and asks for himself and his household, and from him the courage is given to his seed, to be “like a son who repents before his father,” who asks without being ashamed even for himself, something that Jacob and his wives will later do more of.
And the owner of the inn who recently married his daughter, we bless: ‘The bride of Lebanon and save us, our father’ 🙂
With a blessing for the days of joy, Sh”t
Love, love 🙂
It is interesting to note that the ending, “The bride of Lebanon, save us, and save us, our father, you” is attached specifically to the figure of Gideon, who cries out: “And the Lord is with us? And why has He brought us all this? And where are all His wonders that our fathers told us about, saying, ‘Did not the Lord bring us up out of Egypt, but now the Lord has forsaken us?’
The gnawing feeling in Gideon’s heart, that in the past the Lord brought us up out of Egypt, but now the Lord has forsaken us, does not leave him even when he hears the angel’s words again and again, and sees signs and wonders again and again.
And with all the problems of faith, Gideon is ready for mighty deeds of self-sacrifice and taking great risks. He destroys the altar of Baal and angers his entire father's house, who seek to kill him;
He calls his tribe and the tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali to fight against the enemy, and continues to ask for signs. When Gaza was filled with dew when the whole land was dry – he asks to see the opposite – dry Gaza when the whole land was wet – fearing that the first sign was ‘natural’.
And even that does not convince him completely until he reaches the edge of the Midian camp and senses the demoralization of the enemies and orders his soldiers to charge.
Perhaps this quality, to fight and give up the soul even when full of hope if the ’ is still with us – is what allows the ’bride’ Knesset of Israel, to go with her uncle – Even to the tigers' hills and lions' dens, to act courageously despite the nagging doubt.
With the blessing of ‘Lemad Reut Letuba Ut’, Shࢭt
Hello, thank you for a very interesting article. In the context of this article and the article in column 15 that I just read, I would love to hear an explanation of a verse that I wonder a lot about – Abraham's words, in Genesis, 20, 11 – “For I said only, "There is no fear of God in this place, and they will kill me for my wife's sake..”
I didn't understand what the question was. Because he didn't fear God, he was afraid they would kill him.
The question is what does this mean for universal morality. Is it conditioned by the fear of God?
Absolutely. See Notebook Four (and in the first book, Conversation Four).
Excuse me, who wrote what the “will of God’ is? That's exactly what you wrote!
It's not a ‘pir-god’ that you know what's behind the curtain.
The hero of the tying is the tangle.
The tying issue is complicated – and complicates our lives everywhere, not just on Mount Moriah
In the 4th of Tishrei 5771
Did the Lord say that there can be no contradiction between the will of God and the "moral values" of man, or did he say that there is no contradiction between the "religious" commandments of God and the moral values that God has commanded man to follow?
After all, not everything that man considers to be "moral values" is truly moral. After all, the people of Sodom considered it moral to withhold help from ’free-eating parasites’, and all the peoples of Canaan considered it moral that a king had the right to forcibly marry any woman who was not the wife of another man, and sacrificing sons to the gods was an incomparably moral act, a supreme expression of gratitude to the idol.
Apparently, not every social convention that a person grows up with until it seems to him to be the pinnacle of ‘natural morality’ is truly moral. Only after Abraham and his disciples completely impose their will on the commandments of ’God, can they learn from it which social conventions are moral and which are not.
With blessings, Sh”z
Paragraph 3, line 2
… impose themselves absolutely…
It should be noted that after the covenant, Abraham was told for the first time, “And your seed shall inherit the gate of their enemies.” For the first time, it becomes clear to Abraham that it is not enough for him to influence the people of Canaan through kindness and mercy, and that there will be a situation where it will be necessary to inherit the land in a war, in which God may even give up one’s life, and in which one must also kill one’s enemies when necessary. For this, complete trust in Him who commanded man to go forth into this “war of commandment” is necessary.
With blessings, Sh’ts
In line 2
… For the first time it appears to Abraham…
On the 4th of Tishrei 5751
It is interesting that the path of all the fathers begins with a separation from the father's house. Abraham begins his journey by leaving his homeland and his father's house without returning; Jacob leaves his father's house for Haran without knowing when he will return; Joseph is also sold into Egypt without any natural chance of returning. Everyone begins a new path without a supportive father's house, far from his mother's apron.
Even Isaac's life as a son of a son ends when his father is commanded to offer him as a burnt offering. From now on he is created anew as a burnt offering completely dedicated to the Lord. His life will from now on be holy to the Lord as a priest who is commanded not to leave the Temple, and neither his father nor his son nor his grandchildren. Isaac will not leave the Land of Israel, to which he is bound and bound by an indissoluble bond.
Isaac's unique connection to the Holy Land is also expressed in the fact that he is the only one of the ancestors who is actively engaged in agriculture. He will find his wife when he goes out to sow in the field, to plant bushes and trees in it, as the Rashbām explain. Even in the years of famine, Isaac manages to sow and find in his labor "a hundred shearim", even for his son Isaac designates the role of a tiller of the soil: "And God will give you of the dew of heaven and the fat of the earth and plenty of grain and wine".
Like all the fathers, Isaac turns a new and different page: Abraham will be the ‘father of many nations’, Jacob will be the father of his many sons, Joseph the ‘father of Pharaoh’, and Isaac stands out from all of them in his complete devotion to the land of Israel.
With blessings, Sh”t
In contrast to Abraham, who lives within the society of the inhabitants of the land, calls upon the name of the Lord and entertains guests, and is considered by his surroundings to be the 'president of God among us', maintains a covenant with Aner Eshkol and Mamre, and is associated with a group of his 'children' and 'elders of his house', in Isaac we hear nothing about any connection with the 'inhabitants of the land.
Isaac is also not found in Kiryat Arba until the end of his days. He moves from the densely populated mountain ridge to the Negev region, Be'er Lahi Rai, Gerar, and so on, perhaps out of anticipation that in the sparsely populated area he will find vacant land to live the life of a farmer who sows and finds 'a thousand shearims' in his labor. Isaac also does not enter into conflicts with his surroundings. When he is harassed in this place, he simply goes somewhere else.
Isaac rejects Abraham's dream of universal influence, and he will wait for his grandson Joseph, and in a more distant generation, for Solomon and the future Redeemer. In his blessing, Isaac designates for his son that he will establish himself economically by cultivating his land and bring forth from it "abundance of grain and wine," and that, as a result of his economic success on his land, he will merit that peoples will serve him and nations will bow down to him. He will not have to woo them. They will come to him to learn the secret of success from him.
With blessings, Sh”t
By the way, in his blessing to his son the hunter, he offers him a completely opposite destiny. He does not congratulate him on his success in hunting, but rather suggests that he become a farmer like his father, as if telling him: I appreciate your occupation as a hunter, but you will make your 'career' when you give up adventurism and settle down on the land.
In S”d 2”d Bechshon 5”a
I have always been amazed at the conclusion of the reading of the Akeidah section on Rosh Hashanah 2’and his concubine, whose name was Reumah, also bore Tebah and Gaham and Tahsh and Maacah. Is there no more heroic and sublime ending than the list of the sons of Nahor's concubine?
On Shabbat, in Parashat Vayyar, I noticed that the reality described in the verses about the sons of Milcah and Reumah, that one woman gives birth to eight children, and even four children’ – is unusual even in the Book of Genesis. Until the precedent of Nahor's family – we did not find more than three children per woman.
Milcah, who gives birth to eight children, is unusual even after that. Even Leah, who gave birth to seven children – did not achieve this feat.
The birth of a child and its upbringing involve great devotion on the part of the mother, beginning with the sorrow of conception, continuing through the labor and the long years of "the sorrow of raising sons". Birth involves not only great pain but also danger to life, especially in ancient times when there was no sophisticated knowledge and equipment to solve the risks.
And yet, despite the pain and suffering, Milcah is willing to "tie the knot" in the womb, childbirth, and motherhood eight times! Even the concubine, Reuma, is willing to conceive and give birth four times, more than was common among other women at that time.
Abraham notices the unique trait of his brothers' family - their willingness to have many children and raise them - and he "gets the message". From here will come the worthy mother who will bring children with Isaac, ‘as the stars of the sky and the blue that is on the seashore’, and there will he send Eliezer to find Isaac his match.
The purpose of the story of the Akida is to bring the willingness to devote oneself to everyday life. Daily and constant dedication and bringing children into the world and raising them with patience to be good people and Jews. Here is the real test!
With blessings, Sh”t
A. Regarding the heroic ending. Go and examine the words of the Kabbalists. When they zealously made a list of the kings who reigned in the land of Edom before the king of the children of Israel, so the hand of their scribes would not be short to make the entire Torah a supreme restraint.
B. Regarding more than three children to one woman before the family of Nahor. Not sure. Many others gave birth to a son whose name was interpreted followed by “sons and daughters” a total of at least five. It is possible that he married several women, but simply learning is obscure from the explicit.
C. Regarding the readiness of a queen to suffer. Anachronism Ka Khazina here. In all generations and in all places until recently, married women gave birth to as many as they could, as many animals as the land could produce. There is no point in evaluating a queen for this, if she were a fugitive, and her children also survived.
You wrote very beautifully.
But, Eliezer returned with the barren Rebecca.
So maybe for us, children are like the rain. We need to pray for them.
And prayer does help. At least Isaac's prayer.
In the book of Exodus, the man who dwells in the tents, verse 1
It is worth noting that the common expression in the Torah regarding an oleh is not ‘the offering’ but ‘the offering’, which expresses the taking of the offering from the hand of the person and presenting it to the Most High. The Torah mentions. Even with regard to humans, we find the language of ‘the offering’ in the Torah: ‘And you shall offer the Levites’, as an offering the Levites were waved by Aaron the priest,
But in contrast to the offering of an animal that is sacrificed and burned – the person who is offered as an ’offering’ is dedicated to a life of work and service to the Lord’. And so it was with Isaac, it became clear that the meaning of "raising him as an offering" is his dedication to a life of service to God. As it is written: "Blessed is he who chooses and draws near, may he dwell in his courts."
The word "raising" is used several times in the words "to raise a lamp continually," "to raise its lamps." There too, the meaning is the complete opposite of what it contains. The lamp of the Eternal is granted eternal existence before God. This is "raising him."
If the sacrifice is the act of man, the raising expresses its acceptance by God, "a fragrant aroma." May the spirit of the Lord be pleased with him who said and his will be done. And so in the future, may they rise to my will on my altar.
And may our words and deeds rise to my will before the Lord of all.
With blessings, Fishel Gurion
That is, there is no such thing as universal morality or natural conscience. There is only divine morality. And where is it learned from? From the Torah alone. Starting with the divine rebuke of the first murderer.
Kierkegaard's ethical stage is fiction.
?
And so the Torah is not a second floor on top of some first floor. It also establishes the first.
?
To Neb – Hello,
A person has natural moral feelings, but sometimes they are a bit ‘fake’, and therefore there is a need for a critique of the Torah. The Torah also deepens the moral obligation. Natural morality can be satisfied with ’live and let live’, while the moral of the Torah calls for ’love your neighbor as yourself I am the Lord”, to look at others with the loving gaze of their Creator.
With blessings, Shࢭt
It seems that a slight scribal error occurred and the Torah's tone flattens the moral obligation and suits the savages who lived in its time and with the generations, they distorted it and each one inclined it according to his generation and according to his taste.
To Jacob – Greetings,
It seems that the Torah has attracted humanity and raised the moral standard of humanity’ in certain things, such as the vision of education for all, such as the abolition of slavery, such as a weekly day of rest, etc. After all, they grew up for thousands of years on the knees of the Bible and learned something 🙂
However, there are things in which humanity is on a downward trend. For example, ‘Honor your father and mother’, ‘You shall not commit adultery’, ‘You shall not covet’, ‘You shall not go about gossiping among your people’ etc. Even with the ’Thou shalt not murder’ humanity progressed backward until it reached twenty million deaths in World War I and sixty million deaths in World War II.
But here the peak of the decline also marked the cessation of the cycle of murder, as they developed weapons of mass destruction so deadly that they made war impossible. And the world still supports terrorist organizations, or is indifferent to them.
In short: the world still has much to learn from the morals of the Torah.
With blessings of a good gamar, Sh”t
And love your neighbor as yourself is the first floor.
Live and let live doesn't last a minute and a half
PS I think what Rabbi Michi wanted to tell you is that morality depends on G-d, not on the Torah, and he didn't talk about the very existence of God, but about the obligation to follow it. This is not an existential dispute.
What is God without the Torah? But the Torah itself is universal and essentially contains both levels.
I will probably have to read all of Rabbi Michi's writings to understand anything.
Yom Tov.
Not all of my writings, but if you want to understand my approach to morality and halacha, you should read or hear about it. There is a series in the video lessons where I detail it (and also at the beginning of the third book in the trilogy).
We, the ‘religious’ see in the parsha of the Akedah the pinnacle of religious life, even if it contradicts today's morality – obedience to the divine command even though it contradicts natural morality (which is probably also divine..) Many attempts have been made to the parsha and in your article you only referred to two: Karkargur (the gentile) and Rabbi Kook. What is surprising is that in your article you went beyond the realm of halakhah and wrote about a ‘story’ from the Torah, which, as far as I understand it according to your system (as I understood from the trilogy) is less important and not binding. In addition, it seems to me (perhaps mistakenly) that as a staunch rationalist, I am not sure that this is indeed your opinion. Do you agree with the statement: “After man has shown that he is willing to bend his logic and morality to the divine command and will, then he can be given credit and allowed to proceed according to his natural and logical path” (!) Or in your reference to morality and halacha: “The dual commitment to these two systems does a combined job: there is a willingness to sacrifice without renouncing what I myself believe in.” Is it possible?
How does God command a clearly immoral act? Many respond that at the time, when the Torah was given, this was the practice, the morality at that time (human sacrifices, etc., etc.) but later man and his morality changed. In your books you called this ‘changing the policy’ of God. Others will answer this according to the ‘transformation approach, there are other possibilities’, but in my humble opinion, this is not an appropriate answer for a contemporary person. Does there really have to be a conflict between religion and reason? As far as I understand, you do not accept this view.
Of course, the interpretation and tradition proceed from the starting point, from the interpretation of the Torah passage, that Abraham withstood the terrible and terrible test, in our prayers on the High Holy Days, and every day, we mention the event and ask God to remember the ‘mercy of our ancestors’.
I would like to offer another interpretation, one that is consistent with divine and human morality: The test that God tested Abraham was indeed, would he sacrifice his son? God expected Abraham not to sacrifice his son! A moral and human status, as he himself expressed it regarding the overthrow of Sodom. In other words, Abraham did not stand the test that God tested him with! We do not find in the Torah that as a result of the ’test’ Abraham's character was exalted. After the akeda, God did not speak to him anymore. The response to the akeda was also expressed by the angel and not by God: “For now I know that you fear God”. In the Bible, we find the title ‘fear God’ for other people as well: Joseph testifies to himself that he fears God, so does the prophet Jonah, Nehemiah, and others. On the other hand, who ‘did not fear God’: Amalek, the Egyptians, and others. In all cases, ‘fear God’ constitutes a reason for inaction, for refraining from committing an injustice or a bad deed.
There is no room here to extend….
Happy New Year and health
Good signing
More details:
https://www.dropbox.com/s/kwdud4y0dzk4c90/%D7%94%D7%90%D7%9D%20%D7%A2%D7%9E%D7%93%20%D7%90%D7%91%D7%A8%D7%94%D7%9D%20%D7%91%D7%A0%D7%A1%D7%99%D7%95%D7%9F.pdf?dl=0
I don't know the collective you speak for. I also belong to the religious, and I really don't see it the same way you do.
The fact that Kierkegaard is a Gentile doesn't seem relevant to the discussion to me. Or are you religious people using ad hominem instead of arguments?!
My words are not based on an interpretation of akida. I use akida to explain an idea. Exactly what everyone does when they ”study” the Bible.
I explained in several places how God commands something that is clearly immoral. I referred to several such places, and I see no point in returning to it here.
The interpretation you proposed (that Abraham failed) already appears in several Sephardic commentators (Ravitsky mentions them in the article). But you yourself said that the Torah testifies differently. We religious people believe in the Torah, and it tells us that Abraham succeeded in akida and did not fail. But maybe your religious people think differently?… They probably don't study the Bible, unlike my religious friends.
I did not say that the Torah does not testify in this way. This is the traditional and accepted interpretation. My suggestion is for a different understanding. The reward that Abraham received for his heroic endurance in the trial is not so great.
To Zvi – Greetings,
Indeed, the ’reward’ that Abraham received for enduring the test is not great, in total:
‘In blessing I will bless you, and I will multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens and as the sand which is on the seashore. And your seed will possess the gate of his enemies, and in your seed all the nations of the earth will be blessed because you have obeyed my voice’
Very little 🙂
With blessings, Sh”z
He received this award before the Akeda…
A good signature.
On the 2nd of Tishrei 5771
To the 3rd of Tishrei, Shalom Rav,
Following the Akida, several significant innovations were made in the promises of God to Abraham:
A. For the first time, God's promise to Abraham is strengthened by an oath: "By me I have sworn, says God." Unlike a covenant that is bilateral, and its breach by one party can exempt the other party from the obligation: the obligation in the oath is unilateral and absolute.
B. As I mentioned in my response above, “The binding as a training exercise,” after the binding, the promise “and your seed shall inherit the gate of his enemies” was also added, which was not stated before. Now it becomes clear to Abraham that it will be a reality that his seed will have to fight against his enemies and take his land and impose his faith in the world with force and a strong hand.
D. To the dimension of power that was added to Abraham’s seed following his brave resistance to the binding attempt, the image of “the sand on the seashore” was also added. From now on, Abraham’s seed will not only be “like the stars of the sky” that shine from above and far away; here the image of “the blue on the seashore” was also added. The sand is the barrier that stops the stormy flow of the sea and prevents it from flooding the land, as it is written: ‘Whoever places sand as a boundary for the sea, even to this point,’ will come.’ And so the people of Israel, in their strength, are the barrier that protects against evil and idolatry from flooding the world, and all the storms of the sea are smashed against the sand barrier.
D. And despite the need for the people of Israel to stand firm and even fight against ‘the whole world and its wife’ on its path – it will be fulfilled in the seed of Abraham ‘and in your seed all the nations of the earth will be blessed because you have obeyed my voice’. The people of Israel's courageous stand against the world and its entirety while completely refusing to lose their path and identity – is what will bring blessing to all of humanity, which will recognize ‘at the end of the day’ In the righteousness of the path of the people of Israel and may you be blessed in it..
In short:
The Akida revealed and strengthened the ability of the ‘seed of Abraham’ to stand bravely against all the nations stronger than him, to fight with devotion against all of humanity, and with this stubborn firmness - to bring blessing to all of humanity. The loyalty of the people to their God, like the loyalty of God to His people – is complete loyalty, without conditions or reservations.
In the blessing ‘Gammar Hitam Tova’, Sh”t
Sections 2-5 are the essence of the Torah that I said at the engagement of my daughter Shulamit-Baraka to Saren (now: Rav-Saren) Yair Zand 0=Chol9, on Motzash”r and Ya'er 57”7.
Paragraph 4, line 1
C. For the dimension of power…
Ibid., lines 5-6
… As it is written: ‘I have set the sand as a boundary for the sea, a perpetual decree that it cannot pass; and they shall toss and turn, but shall not be able; and its waves shall toss and turn, but shall not pass’ (Jeremiah 5:22). And so with the people of Israel…
Note::
Setting a boundary for the sea that does not allow it to exceed it, is also mentioned in Job: ‘And I will break my statutes upon it, and will set bars and doors, and say, Up to this point you shall come, and no further; and you shall stand in the pride of your waves’ (Leviticus 3:11-11). And as we saw in Jeremiah, the grains of sand, small and meager, are moved by every prevailing wind– they are the ones who create the ’doors and bars’ That block the genius of the sea waves’
Thank you very much for your consideration and for the observations, innovations and four additions to the blessings that were said to Abraham after the Akedah. May God grant us great strength.
In the context of our topic, the question is whether these additions are an addition to the blessings that Abraham already received before the Akedah? Are they very significant? Do these rewards ‘compare’ with the greatness of Abraham's deeds?
A. Regarding the change in the language of the promise from ’covenant’ to ’oath’: Indeed, this is a change with ’halachic’significance, you are a clear halachic man, but is it significant in relation to the ’event of the Akedah’? Does the person notice the nuances of the Almighty? Regarding him: the promise of ’ It is a promise, as Balaam already told us: “There is no God who will lie, nor a son of man who will foretell. He speaks and does not do it, and speaks and does not fulfill it.”
B. “And your seed shall inherit the gate of his enemies.” The land was promised to Abraham several times before. In the covenant between the two parts (Genesis 16:18): On that day God made a covenant with Abraham, saying, “To your seed I will give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates.” And then the peoples who live in it will be scattered. Should we understand from this that the land will be given on a golden platter without war? If we accept this approach, then the promise of war over the land does not constitute a “benefit” but rather a “deterioration” of the previous promise.
C. ‘Sand on the seashore”: Abraham had already been promised “And I will make your seed as the dust of the earth; so that if a man can count the dust of the earth, then your seed also can be counted”. The distinction you made between them is very beautiful, but it is only ‘precept’. The verse explicitly says: “For I will bless you, and I will multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens, and as the sand which is on the seashore; and your seed shall possess the gate of his enemies:” The sand and the stars refer to ’I will multiply your seed’, as a symbol of the ’dust’ before that.
D. Blessing to humanity: Abraham was already blessed in the past: ‘…And in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed’.
To clarify: My only intention is to say, in continuation of the interpretation I suggested, that the Torah's response to the akeda does not correspond to the magnitude of the terrible situation. It is more like the father's response to the action of his son who did not do particularly well, and clearly did not excel.
Again, thank you very much for the article and the comments. By the way, I was also privileged to receive a ‘midrashit’ commentary.
Shabbat Shalom and a good signature
On the 4th of Elul 5771
To the 3rd of Elul 5771
I will briefly review the points that were renewed in the promise of God to Abraham following his endurance in the attempt to tie the knot.
A. Added ‘By me I have sworn’. Unlike a ‘covenant’, where the commitment of each party is conditional on the fulfillment of the covenant by the ‘other party–, this week is a unilateral and unconditional commitment, come what may.
B. Here it is said for the first time: ‘And your seed shall possess the gate of his enemies’. For the first time, Abraham was told that there might be war, and that his seed would prevail in it. The covenant was a test of Abraham and his seed's willingness to enter into war situations that required total self-sacrifice.
C. For the first time, the image of the "blue seashore" appears. The sand is seen as a magnificent barrier in Jeremiah 5:1-3, protecting the land from the stormy waves of the sea. This also indicates a state of constant struggle that the people of Israel will have to face against the world and its entirety.
D. After the wars and struggles, Abraham's seed is assured that even in them the promise made to him personally, "And in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." Now this promise is also given to his seed: "In your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed," who after all the struggles and wars, "will know at the end of the day" All the nations of the earth will value the seed of Abraham and be blessed by him.
The success in the attempt to tie the knot did not indeed bring the people of Israel a ‘prize’ that would enable them to live an easy life from now on. On the contrary, the success in the ’test’ – qualified the seed of Abraham to be the ’commander”guardian” of God, the vanguard that will fight and succeed.
With greetings, Shࢭts
Rabbi Michi, the way you presented the end of the story where the times and the level of halakhah prevail is a bit cramped. Because in the episode of the Akidah we learn that morality prevails. For Mayisha, the seal is “Do not lay your hand on the boy”.
To Reuben – Greetings,
Reuben's words to Jacob: ‘You will kill my two sons if I do not bring them to you’ It seems that the prevailing morality in those days gave the father the authority over the lives of his sons as well. The statement ‘Do not lay your hand on the boy’ was the voice of ‘halakha’ which bent ’ the accepted morality’.
With blessings, Shࢭz
In line 1
… that the accepted morality of those days…
Absolutely not. If it were not for the final commandment, Abraham would have been supposed to have sacrificed his son. After the nullifying commandment was given, Halacha and morality merged.
Along with the good news that Abraham is told about his son who will be born to him, God informs him that He is going to destroy Sodom. A new leadership comes into the world, less tolerance and more firmness.
The reduction of tolerance is also expressed in the expulsion of Ishmael from Abraham's house so that he will not challenge Isaac's status and will not influence him negatively. God agrees with Sarah's initiative in this.
In the covenant, Abraham and Isaac experience and are tested in their willingness to give up their lives. Success in the test marks the entry into a situation in which the path of Abraham and his seed will oblige them to struggles and wars with humanity, struggles that will ultimately end in victory and the recognition of all the nations of the earth in the righteousness of Abraham's path, but until this happens, Abraham's seed will go through difficult adventures.
It is worth noting that the Akedah came to Abraham ‘after these things’, after the agreement with Abimelech, King of Gerar, in which Abraham obliged his seed to refrain from attacking the Philistine. It is possible that the Akedah came as a criticism of Abraham, who bound his son in a ’binding arrangement’ with the Gentiles of the land. The Akedah marks a ‘new page’ in which he does not make a covenant with the ‘inhabitants of the land’ but fights them without compromise.
With blessings, Shࢭz
Paragraph 3, line 2
… That the way of Abraham will commit his seed to struggles…
I wanted to comment that I read your book No Man Is Master of His Spirit and I think that in light of what is explained in this article, it is possible to resolve your confusion regarding requests in prayer when in order to fulfill them we will have to change nature.
If the things are honest, even though the result of the aqeedah is not required in any way, it is required of him to recognize that at the level of God, he is truly supposed to be willing to sacrifice himself and that our feelings have no value, then also with regard to requests from him, it can be explained that the only way in which it is appropriate to express our recognition of his existing power to rob the systems of nature is in this way in which we ask him to help us with problems that are actually also in the way of nature.
After all, you also do not deny divine intervention following prayer on a certain spiritual level, and if so, even if we are not at this level, we are still required as part of a certain “standing before God” to pray about it.
What do you think?
Your response is important to me
I don't think I understood the suggestion. Are you suggesting that we should pray even though prayer is useless (meaning it would happen without it, naturally)? If so, I don't see what's new here. Indeed, we should pray, but it's not true that prayer causes divine intervention. The problem is with the requests, and there it's hard to accept such an argument.
Wonderful article!
My argument is that just as our obligation is to recognize His reality at the level of readiness to deny us our existence as if by binding, even though this is true precisely at the divine level that ”fills every universe” and not towards our level (in terms of narrowness) where we are not practically required to do so, so too are we obligated to recognize His power to control nature (which is also true mainly at the divine level and is less expressed at our natural level) through our requests, since the option that He will change nature does exist.
In short, just as the willingness to sacrifice is a value in itself, so is the request a value in itself.
I hope I have been understood.
As I wrote, it is very strange to require us to ask, when we know that this request is not a request and will not be granted. Whatever we receive or not, will happen even without the request. Even conceptually, this is not a request. It is like saying that there is value in treating day as if it were night even though it is not true.
It's also very strange to demand that we be willing to give up our lives when we know that it won't really be practically required, isn't it?
It's really not the same. Willingness to sacrifice is well defined, even if in the end the sacrifice is not required. The value of this willingness is also quite clear. There is only an educational-technical problem of how to develop such willingness. In particular, according to my system (not my opinion) that sacrifice is also required (at least in the ritual, non-moral realm), where the problem does not exist at all. But a request that is just lip service is simply not a request.
What about the fact that there is no value in studying the Bible?
PS This attitude of willingness to sacrifice is also found in the author of the answer to Rabbi Slobodzik
Zvi Gelbfish already commented on this, and I replied to him:
https://mikyab.net/posts/68866#comment-42337
I did not understand Rabbi Michi's response in that he referred to his words, to the issue of 'there is no value in studying the Bible' or to 'willingness to sacrifice'.
I repeat the main points of my words: In my humble opinion, Abraham's experience was that He expected him not to sacrifice his son, with arguments similar to those he argued as God's on the subject of the destruction of Sodom. The conclusion in my words is that Abraham failed in the attempt!
Rabbi Michi's response to his words, in my humble opinion, is completely unconvincing, as I responded. Despite his words, Abraham did not receive any real reward for the attempt. He had already received all the promises before the Akedah attempt.
For more information, see the link I included in my original response.
If you read the question here and reread my answer to you, I'm sure you'll understand.
I see no point in going back to that discussion. That's not the issue here.