Tag Archives: Akedah

The First Pesach: Did the Patriarchs Celebrate Passover?

The holiday of Passover commemorates the Exodus of the Israelites out of Egypt over three thousand years ago. The Torah tells us that because of their hasty departure, the dough of the Israelites did not have time to rise, hence the consumption of matzah. Yet, the term matzah appears in the Torah long before the Exodus! We read in Genesis 19:3 that Lot welcomed the angels into his home and “made them a feast, and baked matzot, and they ate.” Since the angels came to Lot immediately after visiting Abraham and Sarah to announce the birth of Isaac at that time next year (Genesis 18:10), the Sages learn from this that Isaac was born on Passover. Of course, the Exodus only took place four hundred years after Isaac’s birth! How is it that the patriarchs are already eating matzah?

An Eternal Torah

Although the Torah was given to the Israelites following the Exodus, Jewish tradition affirms that the Torah is eternal, and even predates existence. A famous verse in the Zohar (II, 161a) states that “God looked into the Torah and created the universe.” Adam knew the whole Torah, and was taught its deepest secrets by the angel Raziel. Many of these teachings were passed on by Adam to future generations, down to Noah, then his son Shem, and eventually to the Patriarchs who, according to tradition, studied at Shem’s academy. So, while the Torah tradition officially dates back to Sinai, in some ways it dates back all the way to Creation! It’s also important to keep in mind that the Patriarchs were prophets, which means that even though they did not have a physical, written Torah, there is no reason why they could not have received the Torah’s wisdom directly from God.

As such, it is said that the Patriarchs kept the entire Torah and fulfilled all the mitzvot. When Jacob sends a message to Esau after his sojourn in Charan he tells him “I have lived [garti] with Laban” (Genesis 32:5). On this, Rashi says that garti (גרתי) is an anagram of taryag (תרי״ג), the 613 commandments, meaning that despite living under the oppressive Laban for twenty years, Jacob still observed all 613 commandments. Yet, this is impossible since Jacob married two sisters—a clear Torah prohibition! Similarly, when Abraham meets Melchizedek (ie. Shem) following his victory over the Mesopotamian kings, he tells him that he will not take any reward whatsoever, not even “a thread or strap” (Genesis 14:23). For this, the Sages say, Abraham’s descendants merited the mitzvah of tzitzit (the threads) and tefillin (the straps). In that case, Abraham himself did not wear tefillin or tzitzit. From such instances we see that the patriarchs did not keep the Torah completely, at least not the Torah as we know it.

Emanations of Torah

While Kabbalistic texts often point out that the Torah is eternal and served as the very blueprint of Creation, they also go into more detail to explain that this primordial Torah was not quite the same as the Torah we have today. Each of the four mystical universes (Asiyah, Yetzirah, Beriah, Atzilut) has an ever-more refined level of Torah, with the highest being the Torah of Atzilut. Our Torah is the one of Asiyah, and is full of mitzvot only due to Adam’s sin and the corruption of mankind. In Olam HaBa, the Torah of Atzilut will finally be revealed, which is why Jewish tradition holds that many mitzvot will no longer apply in that future time. This is said to be the meaning of Isaiah 51:4 where God proclaims that in the messianic times “a Torah will go forth from Me”; and of Jeremiah 31:30 where God says He will forge a brit chadashah, a “new covenant”, with Israel. (This latter term was usurped by Christians for their “New Testament”.)

An even more intriguing idea is that the “New Torah” will be composed of the exact same letters as the current one we possess, just rearranged to form new words! Yet another is based on the well-known principle that the Heavenly Torah is composed of “black fire on white fire”. This is often used to explain the fact that the Torah actually has 304,805 letters, even though it is always described as having 600,000 letters (one for each Israelite at Mt. Sinai)—there are 304,805 letters of “black fire” and the rest are the invisible letters of “white fire”. Gershom Scholem cites a number of Kabbalistic and Hasidic texts suggesting that these currently-invisible “white fire” letters are the true eternal Torah! (See Scholem’s Kabbalah, pgs. 171-174, for a complete analysis of these concepts.)

It is this primordial Torah that was originally taught to Adam, and was passed down through his descendants to the Patriarchs, who carefully observed it. As such, it appears that eating matzah is an eternal mitzvah that already appeared in the primordial Torah before the Exodus and the revelation of the current Torah of Asiyah. What was the meaning behind that consumption of matzah?

Bread of Faith

Matzah is called the “bread of faith”. It symbolizes our faithfulness to God, who took us out of Egypt to be His people: “Let My people go so that they may serve Me” (Exodus 7:16, 26). Further emphasizing this point, the word matzot is spelled exactly like mitzvot. This simple, “humble” bread symbolizes our subservience to God’s commands. We are His faithful servants, just as the Patriarchs were His faithful servants. So they, too, ate matzah as a sign of their faith. They ate matzah because God had liberated them, too, from various hardships.

The very first Patriarch, Abraham, was miraculously saved from Nimrod’s furnace. He also dwelled in Egypt for a time before God miraculously brought him out of there with great wealth, just as his descendants would do centuries later. And then came his greatest test of faith: the Akedah. Amazingly, the apocryphal Book of Jubilees connects this event with the future Passover holiday. In chapter 18, it suggests that God commanded the Akedah to Abraham on the 15th of Nisan. As the Torah states, Abraham journeyed for three days before the Akedah happened and then, naturally, it took him three days to return home. Thus, the whole ordeal spanned seven days, and when Abraham returned, he established a seven-day “festival to Hashem” from the 15th of Nisan. The future seven-day Passover holiday would happen on those same days in that same month.

“Abraham’s Sacrifice”, a 15th century piece of Timurid-Mongolian art

While the Sages do debate whether some of the Torah’s major events (including Creation itself) happened in the month of Tishrei or Nisan, the accepted Jewish tradition is that the Akedah happened in Tishrei. Nonetheless, it is quite fitting that the Binding of Isaac should happen on Passover, when Isaac was born. In this case, the ram that Abraham ultimately offered in place of Isaac would serve as a proto-Pesach offering. After all, the ram is nothing but a male sheep, and it is the ram that is the astrological sign of Nisan, and it was those ram-headed gods that the Egyptians worshipped that needed to be slaughtered by the Israelites (as discussed last week). Whatever the case, the Book of Jubilees offers an intriguing possibility for the spiritual origins of Passover, and for why the Patriarchs themselves ate matzot long before the Exodus.

The Shocking Opinion that the Akedah Never Happened

This week’s parasha is Vayera, which concludes with the famous account of the “binding of Isaac”, or Akedah. Last year we explored how God never intended for Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, nor did He command it. This year we explore a much bigger question: did the Akedah even happen? In his Moreh Nevuchim (“Guide for the Perplexed”, Part II, Ch. 41) the Rambam writes:

Know again that in the case of everyone about whom exists a scriptural text that an angel talked to him or that speech came to him from God, this did not occur in any other way than in a dream or in a vision of prophecy.

The Rambam gives a number of examples of events that did not physically happen, but were only dreamt, including, quite surprisingly, Jacob wrestling the angel, Bilaam and his donkey, and the three angels that visit Abraham at the start of this week’s parasha. The Ramban, meanwhile, criticizes the Rambam for his approach, going so far as to say that “It is forbidden to listen” or “to believe” in such ideas.

Nonetheless, the notion that the Akedah happened entirely in a dream vision persisted long after the Rambam and Ramban. Marc B. Shapiro presents a thorough analysis of this conflict in his Changing the Immutable (pgs. 67-71). Shapiro notes that among those who accepted the Rambam’s opinion are the great Rabbi Abraham Abulafia (1240-1291), the Efodi (Rabbi Isaac ben Moses haLevi, c. 1350-1415), and Rav Nissim of Marseilles (c. 13th-14th century), who stated that Ibn Ezra (c. 1089-1167) also took this approach.

These sages argue that the Akedah passage is highly uncharacteristic of Abraham. When God told Abraham that He would smite Sodom, Abraham immediately protested and argued with Him. Yet here, God commands something incomprehensible, and Abraham does not even say a word? Abraham spent his entire life combatting idolatry, including child sacrifice, and now he suddenly and willingly goes to sacrifice his own child? It simply cannot be! The Akedah must have been a dream.

Is the Torah a History Book?

In truth, the notion that the Akedah was only a vision doesn’t hold much water. The text itself states that “Abraham woke up in the morning”—God’s command was certainly a vision, but the rest did physically happen. It was a three day’s journey, and after the incident Abraham names the place that would eventually be Jerusalem. At the end, we are told that Abraham returned to Be’er Sheva. It is difficult to see how the whole thing could be a dream. The same is true for the three angels visiting Abraham. How could it be a dream if Sarah interacted with these angels as well, and two of the angels went on to destroy Sodom?

Of course, there are those who argue that none of this happened at all, and the Torah is nothing but a set of national myths or stories. This brings up an important question: is the Torah a history book?

The answer is a definitive no. “Torah” can mean a lot of things (“law”, “instruction”, “teaching”, “guide”) but it does not mean “history”. The Torah is an instructional manual for life. Some of it describes historical events, but most of it records laws, ethics, rituals, and metaphysical realities. The purpose of the Torah is for us to study it and discuss it, “turn it over and turn it over”, analyze it and develop its ideas, and thereby bring the Torah to life. We have already written in the past that Jews don’t really “follow” the Torah, we live it, and we grow with it, and evolve together with it.

Besides, archaeologists have found a plethora of evidence to support the historical aspects of the Torah, including multiple seals bearing the name Yakov, the tomb of a Semitic-Egyptian official that fits the bill of Joseph exactly, Egyptian records describing the expulsion of a large Semitic nation of “shepherd-kings”, and many more events from the Tanakh.

Still, the Torah is not a history book and should not be studied that way. The Ramak (Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, 1522-1570) wrote that the narratives of the Torah are only its outermost garment, the legal and homiletical aspects are its main body, but it is the spiritual and mystical wisdom within it that is the true soul of the Torah. He based this on the Zohar (III, 152a), which speaks with even harsher language:

Rabbi Shimon said: “Woe to the person who says that the Torah comes to give instructions and tell descriptive stories and simple tales. … Every word in the Torah reflects higher wisdom and higher secrets… The narratives of the Torah are only the outer clothing of the Torah. Whoever thinks that this outer clothing is, in fact, the Torah and there is nothing underneath the clothing is spiritually backward and has no portion in the World to Come…

One who studies the Torah superficially, and accepts its laws and narratives only at face value, without penetrating into the Torah’s depths, is making a big mistake and will ultimately forfeit their portion in Olam HaBa. Such a person’s faith will be weak, and they will be unable to deal with supposed “historical inaccuracies” or “scientific contradictions” which we are bombarded with constantly. In reality, when delving deeper into the Torah and embracing it entirely, it becomes abundantly clear that there are no inaccuracies or contradictions at all. The Torah is truth.

Is the Lubavitcher Rebbe Mashiach?

Today is the third of Tammuz, the yahrzeit of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, better known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe. There is no doubt that the Rebbe was among the greatest sages of the last century (if not of all time). From the moment he took up the leadership of Chabad, the Rebbe began to make waves in the Jewish world, and quickly transformed Lubavitch into an international powerhouse. Today, Chabad finds itself in 81 countries, operating 3500 institutions.

The Rebbe himself inspired countless souls, both Jewish and non-Jewish. One of the latter was Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm (the first black woman in Congress). When Chisholm was first elected to the House of Representatives, she met fierce opposition and outright racism. Shortly after, she received a call from the Rebbe, who quelled her concerns and offered her advice on how to make the most of her situation. Chisholm went on to create programs that benefited millions of poor people, including the expansion of food stamps across the US. At her retirement breakfast, she said: “If poor babies have milk and poor children have food, it’s because this rabbi in Crown Heights had vision.”

With such vision, along with tremendous wisdom, righteousness, and charisma, it isn’t very surprising that a messianic movement would develop around the Rebbe. Despite the fact that he passed away in 1994, many within the Chabad movement continue to believe that he is Mashiach. Is there substance to this belief?

Mashiach Resurrected

One of the major arguments used by the so-called Mashichistim is a verse in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 98b) that states Mashiach can come from “among the living” or from “among the dead”. The Talmud states that if Mashiach is of the living, it would certainly be Rabbi Yehuda haNasi (who was also called, simply, Rebbi), the great compiler of the Mishnah; if of the dead, it would be the Biblical Daniel. Within Chabad, this passage is used to support the fact that despite the Rebbe’s passing, he may still return to be the messiah.

However, other texts state that Mashiach cannot be from the dead. For example, Midrash Rabbah (on Genesis 49:18) writes how Jacob saw a vision of Samson—who had the potential to be Mashiach—but when Jacob saw Samson’s death, he was saddened that Samson wouldn’t be the messiah and said, “I await Your salvation, Hashem!”

Some believe the Rebbe is not really dead (besides, if Mashiach is from “among the dead”, the Talmud already told us it would be Daniel!) but he is only “concealed”. Multiple Jewish sources state that Mashiach will come, then disappear for a certain amount of time, and then return again. For example, Midrash Rabbah (on Numbers 11:3), writes:

Just like the first redeemer, Moses, revealed himself to the Jews and then concealed himself… similarly, the final redeemer will reveal himself, then conceal himself… and then return and reveal himself again.

Thus, the Rebbe is said to only be “hidden”, and will imminently return. Of course, this isn’t very different from the Christian belief in Jesus’ “second coming”. Christians have been waiting eagerly for two millennia—much like Chabad has been waiting eagerly for two decades.

In reality, when ancient Jewish sources speak of Mashiach’s concealment and return, they do not mean that Mashiach will disappear for millennia, or even decades. The Midrash cited above itself says that Moses was hidden from the Israelites for three months, and Mashiach would be hidden for only 45 days. Though there are other opinions, the lengthiest is three years (based on Isaac disappearing from the Torah narrative for three years following the Akedah). And so, the potential for the Rebbe being Mashiach appears to have long expired.

The Rebbe on Being Mashiach

One of the things that the Rebbe was adamant about was studying and following the teachings of the Rambam. The Rambam makes it clear who Mashiach is: a Jewish leader who, among other things, successfully reunites the entire nation in Israel (ending the exile), defeats the nation’s enemies, and rebuilds the Temple in Jerusalem. Only one who has successfully accomplished these tasks can be titled “Mashiach”. The Rambam writes that if a person was on his way to fulfilling these, but died in the process, he is clearly not the messiah. The Rambam brings Shimon bar Kochva as an example. Although Bar Kochva was able to push the Romans out of Israel, reclaim the Temple Mount and start rebuilding the Temple, and was even proclaimed the messiah by Rabbi Akiva, he died and his messianic potential died with him.

In one of his talks, the Rebbe himself stated that one is only confirmed to be Mashiach when the Third Temple is built. Obviously, since the Rebbe did not build the Third Temple in his lifetime, he cannot be the messiah. If it turns out that the Rebbe does return somehow in the future, and accomplishes all the messianic tasks, then and only then can he be titled “Mashiach”. To do so now is premature and naïve, if not altogether wrong.

In fact, the Rebbe constantly made clear that he is not Mashiach. In his monumental biography of the Rebbe, Joseph Telushkin devotes a chapter to this question, and writes:

In 1965, Rabbi Avraham Parizh, an elder Chasid who had been with the movement from the time of the Fifth Rebbe, printed letters stating: “With great joy, we can inform you that King Messiah, for whom we have waited so many years, is already among us. He is the holy Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the King Messiah. His address is 770 Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn, New York. He does not need us to choose him since God has chosen him.” Rabbi Parizh printed up many of these letters and started handing them out in Israel. According to one account, Parizh also distributed these letters by dropping them out of a helicopter.

When the Rebbe learned of the letter, he instructed his secretariat to immediately dispatch a telegram to Parizh, dated June 24, 1965: “We were shocked by the letter [you wrote and handed out] and ask that you immediately cease distributing it. Gather and send to the secretariat all copies of the letter, every last one, and please confirm immediately that you have fulfilled this instruction.” Chasidim tell how Parizh spent several weeks scrounging around the streets of Tel Aviv looking for every such sheet he could find…

In 1991, Rabbi Aharon Dov Halprin, the editor of Chabad’s Israeli magazine, Kfar Chabad, wanted to print an article explaining why the Rebbe was worthy of being considered the presumed Messiah. When the Rebbe learned of this he responded sharply, “If you, God forbid, [plan to write] anything even remotely similar, it is preferable that you shut down the periodical completely.”

In an urgent audience to which the Rebbe summoned Chabad activist Rabbi Tuvia Peles, the Rebbe rebuked those who were making Messianic claims about him, saying, “They are taking a knife to my heart” and “they are tearing off parts of me.”

… Some months later, and shortly before the Rebbe’s stroke, the Alaska-based shliach, Rabbi Yosef Greenberg (author of Y’mei Bereishit), brought a letter to be given to the Rebbe in which he referred to him as “King Messiah”. Later that same day, Rabbi Groner told Greenberg that the Rebbe had looked at the letter, thrown it down in frustration, and then wrote on it, “Tell him that when the Moshiach comes, I will give him the letter.”

An even more definitive statement of the Rebbe on this same issue occurred at around the same time. An Israeli journalist, Sarah Davidowitz of the Kol Ha’ir newspaper, approached the Rebbe and said, “We appreciate you very much, we want to see you in Israel; you said soon you will be in Israel, so when will you come?” The Rebbe responded: “That depends on the Moshiach, not on me.” The journalist persisted, “You are the Moshiach!,” to which the Rebbe responded: “I am not”.

In light of this, to call the Rebbe “Mashiach” is highly inappropriate, and against his own wishes. More dangerously, it risks turning Chabad into a religion of its own. After all, Christianity developed in the very same way; in its first decades, it was nearly indistinguishable from Judaism, and was followed almost entirely by Jews. It took a couple of centuries before the divide between Judaism and Christianity was complete, and by that point, Jesus had become a God-like figure.

The same may very well happen with the Rebbe and Chabad in coming decades. Already, there are elements within Chabad who have taken to equating the Rebbe with some kind of god on Earth. Many in Chabad still write letters to the Rebbe, adorn their homes with countless images and elaborate paintings of him, and read out the Rebbe’s letters at important public events (while everyone is asked to rise in honour of the Rebbe’s “presence”, of course). It isn’t uncommon to see children saluting the Rebbe’s empty chair at 770, while worshippers ecstatically chant “long live our master, teacher, and rabbi, the king Mashiach” (see video here). If Chabad’s leaders do not rein in such activity soon, there is little doubt Lubavitch will morph into a religion of its own. And for the Rebbe—who worked so tirelessly to unite all Jews—that would be a most devastating legacy.

Parenthood and “Daddy Issues” in the Torah

This week’s Torah portion is Toldot, which begins by stating that “…Isaac was the son of Abraham; Abraham begot Isaac.” If Isaac was the son of Abraham, then obviously Abraham begot Isaac! Why the redundancy? Rashi comments that since Abraham miraculously had Isaac at such an old age, people questioned whether Isaac was truly his son or not. Thus, God made Isaac’s physical appearance nearly identical to that of Abraham, so that no one would doubt Isaac was Abraham’s son. Meanwhile, midrashic sources point out that sons are often ashamed of their fathers, or fathers of their sons, but Isaac proudly stated that he was the son of Abraham, and Abraham proudly said that he was the father of Isaac. This brings up an important matter that was as much a problem centuries ago when the Midrash was composed as it is today – what is commonly referred to as “daddy issues”.

The issue can be summarized as follows: fathers tend to be absent from their children’s lives, and this lack of attention and affection ends up creating a host of psychological and emotional problems in the kids. Studies show that “father absence” and “father deficit” leads to more behavioural problems, lower self-esteem, a higher likelihood of promiscuity and substance abuse, crime, relationship difficulties, and increased chances of developing mental disorders. These were precisely the issues with Abraham’s son Ishmael, and Isaac’s son Esau. In fact, when one reads the Torah with their psychiatric spectacles on, they will find dad issues abound:

Noah and Ham had major issues, as did Abraham and his father Terach, and Jacob famously favoured Joseph at the expense of his other sons. This last case incited a great deal of resentment among the sons, leading to Joseph’s sale into bondage. While Joseph benefited greatly from his father’s presence and became wholly righteous, the other sons developed the classic symptoms of “father deficit” listed above. We clearly see their moral issues, with Reuben “mounting his father’s bed” (Gen. 35:22); Shimon and Levi decimating the people of Shechem against their father’s wishes (Gen. 34:25); and Judah falling into the arms of an apparent prostitute (Gen. 38:15-16).*

We see similar difficulties in this week’s parasha. “And Isaac loved Esau because his game-meat was in his mouth, but Rebecca loved Jacob” (Gen. 25:28). Isaac was distant from Jacob, and his relationship with Esau was apparently superficial, too, conditional upon Esau bringing him delicacies. Isaac’s lack of genuine presence in his sons’ lives led to Esau’s bad character, Jacob’s trickery, and a discord between the brothers that tore the family apart.

'Isaac Blessing Jacob' by Bartolome Murillo (1665-1670)

‘Isaac Blessing Jacob’ by Bartolome Murillo (1665-1670)

We read how Rebecca is worried that Jacob would marry a local Canaanite, like Esau had done. The presence of Esau’s idolatrous wives absolutely “disgusted” Rebecca (27:46). She complains to Isaac to do something about this, and Isaac agrees to send Jacob to Charan to find a suitable spouse. Again, we see a serious lack of concern in Isaac; it is Rebecca that is stressing about the children.

The distance between Isaac and Jacob is made even clearer later in the Torah, when Jacob returns to Israel after twenty years of living with Laban in Charan. One would expect him to immediately rush to find his parents, whom he hasn’t seen in two decades. Instead, we read that Jacob settles in a place called Sukkot (33:17) before moving to live in Shechem for a while. He then lives in Beit-El for a number of years before moving to Migdal-Eder (35:21). Only after all of this happens does Jacob finally go to Mamre where Isaac is to be found (35:27). And the very next verse describes Isaac’s death. Depending on how the verses are read, either Jacob only went to see his father once Isaac passed away and needed to be buried, or Jacob’s long-awaited arrival is what triggered Isaac’s passing. Either way, the relationship between father and son is evidently quite cold.

The Akedah and Fatherhood

Perhaps Isaac acted this way because he was mirroring his own father. Indeed, “daddy issues” tend to pass from one generation to another, as sons often end up mimicking their fathers and treating their children the same way they were treated. We see no descriptions in the Torah of Abraham and Isaac doing much together. When God commands Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, the wording used is et bincha… asher ahavta, “your son… whom you loved.” Loved is used in the past tense, as if Abraham loved Isaac, but no longer does! Perhaps the two grew distant as Isaac became an adult (he was 37 years old at the time of the Akeidah). At the end of the passage, we read how Abraham returns to “his youths” but Isaac is not mentioned. When Abraham instructs Eliezer to go find a wife for Isaac, again Isaac is nowhere to be seen. He is living in a place called Be’er Lachai Ro’i while his father lives in Be’er Sheva.

In its commentary on parashat Toldot, the Zohar puzzles over the fact that Abraham did not give Isaac a deathbed blessing as was common in those days. Instead, the Torah tells us that Abraham passed away and it was God that blessed Isaac! (Gen. 25:11) The Zohar gives a fairly unsatisfying answer, and maintains that despite all of this, Abraham and Isaac really did have a good relationship.

Rabbi Tzvi Freeman put it best in his piece titled How To Be A Father. The rabbi points out that during the Akedah, when Isaac addresses his father, Abraham replies hineni bni. The term hineni – “here I am” – is precisely the one Abraham used when God called out to him. It suggests one’s total presence and awareness, as one would be before God. Rabbi Freeman sees Abraham telling Isaac hineni, “Here I am, my son. All of me. For all of you.” He goes on to suggest that “Perhaps that was the whole test. Perhaps, with that alone, Abraham proved that he was fit to be the father of the nation that would bring G‑d’s compassion into the world.”

I believe God’s command to Abraham to sacrifice his son was very much a wake-up call. As adults, Abraham and Isaac had grown apart. God needed to remind Abraham that a father must always be present in his child’s life. It was as if God was saying: Hey Abraham, remember that son whom you loved? What happened? If you’re going to act like Isaac is dead, you may as well go up and sacrifice him!

And now here was Abraham, walking up the mountain with Isaac; a dead, awkward silence between them. Suddenly, Isaac says, simply, avi? “My father?” The word strikes Abraham in the heart, and he realizes his error. He understands it all now, and replies: hineni bni. Yes, my son, I am here for you.

The lesson is for every parent to be present in their child’s life, throughout their life, regardless of age or time, place or circumstance. Across Jewish texts, the most common metaphor for the relationship between God and man is that of parent and child. We affectionately refer to God as avinu sh’bashamayim, “our Father in Heaven.” If that’s the case, then just as God is constantly present in our lives, watching over us at every moment, guiding us and supporting us, so too must parents always be there for their children, guiding them in the right direction, supporting them, and watching over them.

Hineni

If Abraham and Isaac really did reconcile at the Akedah, then how do we deal with the issues mentioned previously? Why did Isaac not return with Abraham to the youths? The midrashic explanation is that Isaac actually ascended to Heaven for three years!

Why was Isaac not in Be’er Sheva with Abraham but in Be’er Lachai Ro’i? Rashi comments that while Abraham was busy finding a wife for Isaac, Isaac was busy finding a wife for his father, since Sarah had passed away and Isaac didn’t want his father to be alone. He went to Be’er Lachai Ro’i because that was where Hagar lived, and Isaac brought her back to Abraham. (Hagar is Keturah, Abraham’s wife in his final years. Rashi explains Hagar was called Keturah because she remained pure – like the Temple’s ketoret incense – during those many years she was separated from Abraham.)

Why didn’t Abraham bless Isaac on his deathbed? The Zohar says that he feared the wicked Esau would somehow draw that blessing towards evil. Abraham gave everything he had to Isaac (Gen. 25:5), but left it for God to bless him. Thus, the Zohar tells us that Abraham and Isaac did indeed have a great relationship, and as the Midrash says, Abraham was proud to call himself Isaac’s father, and Isaac was proud to call himself Abraham’s son.

akedah-stamp

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*It is important to note that, of course, the sons of Jacob all repented for their sins, and were wholly righteous in their later years. Otherwise, they would never have merited to be the fathers of the Twelve Tribes!

Secrets of the Akedah

akedah-stampThis week’s parasha is Vayera, most famous for describing the Akedah, or “binding of Isaac”. As is well known, God seemingly commands Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, with no clear reason why He wants this. Later, the text suggests that it was a test of Abraham’s devotion to God: how much was Abraham willing to give up in his service of the Divine? The test seems quite cruel. How could God command a person to do something as abhorrent as sacrificing a child? Of course, child sacrifice is itself totally forbidden by Torah law, and God never intended for Abraham to hurt Isaac. In that case, why command such a thing in the first place?

Many interesting answers have been presented to deal with this. A careful analysis of the text shows that God never actually commanded Abraham to kill Isaac. Rather, he said to take him to Mt. Moriah and, literally, “elevate him as an elevation”. It is assumed that the word “elevation” (olah) is a “burnt-sacrifice”, since this is how the term would be used many times later in the Torah. However, this is not necessarily the case. In fact, this is pointed out by the Midrash (Beresheet Rabbah 56:8), which records the following conversation between God and Abraham:

Abraham said to [God]: I will set my words before you. Yesterday you said to me: “In Isaac will be called your seed” (Genesis 21:12). Then you went back and said, “Take your son” (Genesis 22:1). Now you say to me, “Do not send forth your hand against the boy” (Genesis 22:12).

The Holy One, Blessed be He, said to him: “I will not profane my covenant and the utterance of my lips will not change” (Psalms 89:35). When I said to you, “take”… I did not say “slaughter him” but rather “bring him up.” You brought him up, now bring him down!

High Priest in the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur

High Priest in the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur

Rabbi Isaiah Horovitz (c. 1565-1630), better known as the Shelah HaKadosh, points out that Abraham was explicitly commanded to go to Mt. Moriah, which gets its name from mor, the fragrant myrrh, which was the first ingredient of the ketoret, the incense offering in the Temple. The ketoret was the most powerful and most precious of all offerings, and was the incense that the High Priest brought into the Holy of Holies – the innermost chamber of the Temple – on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. The Shelah HaKadosh explains that Abraham was meant to play the role of High Priest and bring Isaac to the Holy of Holies, where his son would be elevated spiritually. No death was necessary at all!

It seems like Abraham, living in a time where child sacrifice was so common, misunderstood God’s command. God had to intervene and stop Abraham at the last moment, teaching him that there is no place for child sacrifice in a just world. He blessed Abraham nonetheless for his boundless devotion. Still, we no longer see God communicating with Abraham, and the story then shifts to Isaac. Perhaps Abraham didn’t exactly pass the test as God had hoped.

Meanwhile, Isaac was indeed elevated. The text ends without mentioning Isaac. It says that Abraham returned to the youths that accompanied him to the mountain, and they all returned to Be’er Sheva. Isaac is nowhere to be seen! The next time he is discussed is three years later. Based on this discrepancy, the Midrash comments that Isaac was brought into the Heavenly Garden of Eden for three years following the Akedah! This midrashic explanation alludes to a far greater secret within the Akedah.

Repairing Death and Returning to Eden

The Arizal taught that the Akedah was a tikkun, a spiritual rectification, for a monumental event that happened centuries earlier. Following man’s expulsion from the Garden of Eden, the first sons Cain and Abel got into a scuffle and Cain ended up killing his brother. This was the first act of murder, and ushered in all future killings. Of course, such a tremendous sin requires a tikkun.

According to Biblical chronology, Isaac was 37 years old at the Akedah. The Arizal says that this hints to the above tikkun, as 37 is the gematria of “Abel” (הבל). Also, when Isaac asked his father what they will sacrifice, Abraham answered that “God will see for Himself the lamb for the offering, my son” (Genesis 22:7). The phrase can also be read in this way: “the lamb for the offering is my son” (ha’seh l’olah bni). Rashi comments here that at this point Isaac understood that he would be sacrificed, and did not protest. The Arizal sees in the phrase ha’seh l’olah bni (השה לעלה בני) the initials of Abel, once more hinting at the tikkun at hand.

Had Abraham actually sacrificed Isaac, the Arizal suggests that the tikkun for all murder, killing, and even death itself would have been affected. All of the spiritual vessels of the world would have been repaired, and the Messianic age would have been ushered in immediately, with the resurrection of the dead along with it. Isaac would have been resurrected himself right away, making his death last only a fleeting instant, just enough time for him to enter Eden and bring it back down to Earth.

Alas, this was not the case. Isaac certainly did ascend to Eden, but ended up staying there for a while longer. The world was not yet ready for the Messianic age. While it didn’t happen at that point, it will happen in the future. In fact, Isaac will return to the world to fulfil his destiny, and the Arizal sees in his name (יצחק) an anagram of ketz chai (קץ חי), “the one who will live [again] at the end”. Who, exactly, will this “End-Times” Isaac be?

The First Three and the Last Three

The mystical Sefer Yetzirah states a famous principle: “the end is wedged in the beginning”. The whole process of tikkun will end very similarly to how it all began. In the same way that it began with our three forefathers, it will end with another set of three figures. When describing the events of Mashiach’s coming, Jewish texts usually refer to three individuals: Eliyahu, Mashiach ben Yosef, and Mashiach ben David. Eliyahu is first, who comes to announce the coming Redemption. Mashiach ben Yosef is next, whose job is to fight the necessary battles to prepare the world. Finally, Mashiach ben David comes to usher the world into a new era.

The Talmud (Sukkah 52a-b) records how Mashiach ben Yosef will have to die. The Arizal instituted a kavanah (intention or meditation) within the Amidah (during the blessing for rebuilding Jerusalem) for one to pray that ben Yosef will not have to die. However, it seems that the death of Mashiach ben Yosef is nothing more than the fulfilment of the Akedah, and in his monumental Sefer Asarah Ma’amrot, Rabbi Menachem Azariah de Fano writes explicitly that Mashiach ben Yosef will die and be resurrected shortly after, having fulfilled his task. He even implies that Mashiach ben Yosef is none other than Isaac! (We discussed this identification in more detail in a previous post here.)

It is quite easy to see how the three Messianic figures parallel the three patriarchs. Abraham was the first “to call in God’s name” and made it his life’s mission to teach people about monotheism and inspire repentance. Similarly, Eliyahu’s mission is to make a grand announcement – calling in God’s name – and to inspire people to repent (see Malachi 3:23-24). Jacob was the last patriarch, the one who became Israel and fathered the Twelve Tribes. Likewise, Mashiach ben David will restore the nation to Israel and re-establish the Twelve Tribes. Mashiach ben Yosef, like Isaac (whose gematria, 208, actually equals “ben Yosef”!) has the most difficult task. Several millennia ago, the world was not yet ready for it, but it is certainly ripe now. May we merit to see its fulfilment soon.