Purpose of Akeidat Yitzchak/1/en

Purpose of Akeidat Yitzchak

Introduction

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A Test for Whom?

Bereshit 22, the story of Akeidat Yitzchak, is one of the most famous narratives in Torah, and also one of the most troubling. The chapter opens with Hashem's command to sacrifice Yitzchak, it proceeds to detail Avraham's dutiful compliance, and then climaxes with the angel's prevention of the deed.  What, though, was the ultimate purpose of the entire experience? 

The chapter defines the episode as a test ("וְהָאֱלֹהִים נִסָּה אֶת אַבְרָהָם"), and the declaration at the end of the trial, "Now I know that you are God-fearing" would seem to support such a reading.  Yet, given an omniscient God, is it really possible to say that Avraham needed to undergo the binding of Yitzchak in order for Hashem to recognize the extent of his fear of God?  Had Avraham not already proven his dedication and loyalty to Hashem?  What prompted the need for a further demonstration right now?  And if Hashem did not need the test, for whom then was it intended?  What lessons were Avraham, Yitzchak, or any bystanders supposed to learn from it?

Can Hashem Go Back on His Word?

Many medieval commentators were troubled by an additional theological question:  Is it possible that Hashem would retract a command?  How can Hashem direct Avraham to sacrifice Yitzchak, only to subsequently instruct him to refrain from fulfilling this very order?¹  Might this not pave the way for people to dismiss all Divine directives as being subject to change, or to suggest that the Torah is not eternally binding and that Hashem might replace it with a new one?  This issue was particularly vexing for medieval Jewish exegetes living under Islam, as their Moslem interlocutors pointed to the story of the Akeidah as an example of how Hashem might cancel his commands or even his Torah.

What about "לא תרצח"?

A final question relates to the morality of the command, an issue which is hinted to already in Midrashic literature,² ignored by many medieval exegetes, yet which takes center stage in most discussions of the story in the modern era.³  How can a just and ethical God, who later in the Torah Himself prohibits murder and child sacrifice,⁴ demand of someone that they kill their child? Furthermore, why did Avraham comply without questioning the directive, as he had done when troubled by Hashem's decision regarding Sedom?⁵  In more general terms, the story makes one ask: What is one to do when human conceptions of morality, and especially when the Torah's own ethical system, conflict with a Divine command?

Additional Questions

• "וַיְהִי אַחַר הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵלֶּה" – This opening phrase appears redundant, as the logical assumption of the reader is that a story follows the preceding one.  Why is the Torah highlighting the connection between chapters 21 and 22?  Does the former somehow shed light on the latter?
• Avraham's feelings en route – The story is silent regarding the emotions of Avraham and Yitzchak as they trek to the mountain.  Was Avraham filled with trepidation at the act or was his heart joyful to do God's bidding?  Does the text give any hints one way or another?
• "אֱלֹהִים יִרְאֶה לּוֹ הַשֶּׂה לְעֹלָה בְּנִי" – In these words, is Avraham intentionally lying to Yitzchak?  Does this stem from a desire to protect his son from the truth until the last moment, a fear that Yitzchak will not acquiesce, or his own hopes that in fact a sheep will be offered and not his son?
• Angel versus Hashem – Why is it Hashem Himself who gives the command to sacrifice Yitzchak, while it is only an angel who prevents the act?

¹ The question is already raised in Bereshit Rabbah55:1-656:7-8About Bereshit Rabbah, where R. Acha has Avraham wonder,  אֵין הַדְּבָרִים הַלָּלוּ אֶלָּא דְבָרִים שֶׁל תֵּמַהּ, אֶתְמוֹל אָמַרְתָּ כִּי בְיִצְחָק יִקָּרֵא לְךָ זָרַע, חָזַרְתָּ וְאָמַרְתָּ  קַח נָא אֶת בִּנְךָ, וְעַכְשָׁיו אַתְּ אָמַר לִי אַל תִּשְׁלַח יָדְךָ אֶל הַנַּעַר, אֶתְמְהָא".

² See Bereshit Rabbah56:4About Bereshit Rabbah (and in more detail in Tanchuma 4), which presents the Satan questioning Avraham, "אָמַר לוֹ לְמָחָר אוֹמֵר לְךָ שׁוֹפֵךְ דָּם אַתְּ חַיָּב שֶׁשָּׁפַכְתָּ דָּמוֹ שֶׁל בִּנְךָ".

³ This fact highlights how the issues which are burning questions for one generation of commentators do not necessarily bother another.  Cultural, historical, and polemical factors all influence not only how we understand a story but even the very questions we assume lie at its core.
It is possible that the difference in focus in this case stems from varying attitudes towards martyrdom. In medieval times, many were forced to martyr either themselves or their children in the face of forced conversions. As such, they were not bothered by how Avraham could comply with Hashem's request, and definitely did not view the directive as resembling murder.  In fact, they even questioned why they were not perceived as more God-fearing than Avraham. After all, Avraham in the end only brought Yitzchak as an offering, while they actually sacrificed their loved ones. They question not the morality of the command to give up one's son, but why only in the case of Avraham did Hashem intervene to stop the act. Thus, one poet of the time writes: טרם היה אזרחי כזורז יחידו לעקידה / ישמיעו מן השמים: אל תשלח ידך להשמידה / כמה עתה נשמדים בנים ובנות ביהודה / לא חש להושיע טבוחים ושרופים  (brought by A. Sagi, יהדות: בין דת למוסר (Tel Aviv, 1998): 257-267).  For a lengthy discussion of the relationship between medieval martyrdom and understandings of the akeidah, see S. Spiegel, "מאגדות העקידה: פיוט על שחיטת יצחק ותחייתו לר' אפרים מבונא" in "ספר היובל לכבוד אלכסנדר מארכס" (New York, 1950): 471-547.
A second possible explanation for the difference in focus might relate to opposing conceptions of morality in medieval and contemporary times.  The concept of "individual morality" is a fairly modern one.  In medieval times, it was much more accepted that there was no independent ethic outside of religion, and thus more obvious that whatever God declared must be just. This explanation, however, would not account for why many medieval commentators do not address the question of how Hashem can command something which He Himself later declares unethical.

⁴ See Devarim 12:31 where Hashem refers to child sacrifice as an abomination, and Vayikra 18:21 where He prohibits the giving of one's children to the Molekh, often understood as a cult of child sacrifice.  [However, see Giving One's Seed to Molekh, for other understandings of the prohibition.]

⁵ The question is movingly formulated by Yochanan HaKohen, a liturgical poet of the seventh century.  In his poem, he presents Hashem as trying to find a partner for His daughter, the Torah.  When Avraham is suggested as a possible match, The Torah refuses him, saying:
עָנְתָה אָמוֹן לְדָר בַּמְּרוֹמִים / יָדַעְתִּי גַּם אֲנִי כִּי הוּא טוֹב והוֹלֵךְ תָּמִים
אֲבָל עַל יְחִידו לֹֹא קָנָה רַחֲמִים / וְשָׁלַח יָד כְּאַכְזָר לִשְׁפֹּךְ דָּמִים
וְכָל כָּךְ לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹנָךְ בְּלֵב תָּמִים / וּבָטוּחַ כִּי אַתָּה טוֹב וּמָלֵא רַחֲמִים
אֲבָל הָיָה לוֹ לְהִתְחַנֵּן לְפָנֶיך וּלְבַקֵּשׁ רַחֲמִים / וְלַחֲשׂוֹךְ יְחִידוֹ מֵאֵשׁ פֶּחָמִים
הוּא לֹא רִיחֵם לוּלֵי רִחַמְתָּה בַּעַל הָרַחֲמִים.
For a discussion of the poem, see Dr. A. Sapir, מבט שונה על עקדת יצחק.