This month, we will once again read the remarkable story of akedat Yitzhak, the unimaginable test of faith which Avraham faced when Gd appeared to him and commanded him to do the unthinkable – to sacrifice his beloved son, Yitzhak, whom he had miraculously fathered at the age of 100.
Compliance with this command required Avraham to not only overcome his natural feelings of love for his son, but also to act in opposite to the most basic foundations of ethical conduct, and common sense. Avraham spent his life preaching morality and kindness, and was now expected to kill his own son without knowing why. Moreover, Gd had previously promised that Yitzhak would produce a large nation, and He was now instructing that Yitzhak be killed before marrying and begetting children. Avraham nevertheless complied, immediately setting out with Yitzhak to Mount Moriah – the future site of the Bet Hamikdash – to offer him as a sacrifice. Just as he took hold of the knife, Gd called to him and told him to desist, explaining that He was testing his faith, and did not actually want Yitzhak to be sacrificed.
The importance of this event to us, Avraham’s descendants, is evidenced by the inclusion of this section of the Torah in our daily prayers, as part of the introduction to shaharit each morning. Additionally, akedat Yitzhak features prominently in our prayers on the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays) as we beseech Gd for forgiveness and a favorable judgment. In fact, this story is the Torah reading on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. And, one of the explanations given for the symbolism of the shofar is that it commemorates the ram which Avraham sacrificed on the altar in Yitzhak’s place.
There is so much about this story to study, analyze, and learn from, and each year, when Parashat Vayera comes around, I find myself drawn to this subject despite the many other fascinating and important topics found in this parashah. Here, however, I would like to focus on one verse toward end of the story of the akedah which I feel is often neglected, but that, as we will see, may shed light on one of the most critically important consequences of this extraordinary display of self-sacrifice.
“Gd Shall See”
After Avraham sacrificed the ram, he declared that the site of this sacrifice should be named “Hashem yireh” – literally, “Gd shall see” (Beresheet 22:14). What did Avraham want Gd to “see”?
Rashi brings two interpretations. The first, which Rashi cites from Onkelos’ Aramaic translation, is that Avraham refers to the designation of this site as the location of the Bet Hamikdash. Avraham prophetically foresaw that Gd would choose the place of this altar, upon which Yitzhak was bound, as the site where His presence would reside and where his descendants would offer sacrifices.
Secondly, as Rashi brings from the Midrash, Avraham here prayed that Gd should see this act of self-sacrifice, and invoke this merit of behalf of his descendants. When the Jewish People would sin and be worthy of harsh punishment, Gd should see this altar and Avraham’s willingness to sacrifice that which was most precious to him, and in this merit, He should forgive the nation and save them.
Yet, a third explanation is given by the Gaon of Vilna (Rav Eliyahu of Vilna, 1720-1797). He writes that when Gd first created Adam and Havah, He resided with them, as it were, in Gan Eden. As a result of their sin, however, He drove them from Gan Eden, distancing them from Him. And then, as mankind continued to sin, Gd withdrew further and further. The process of the return of the Shechinah (divine presence) to earth began with Avraham, and reached its culmination at Mount Sinai, when Gd actually descended onto the mountain and appeared to Beneh Yisrael. Avraham thus declared at the time of akedat Yitzhak that “Gd shall see” – Gd was now drawing closer to the world and to mankind, such that He could be said to “see” them. At the time of the Revelation at Sinai, Gd was so close that He not only “saw,” but was also clearly seen by the people. And thus, after the Torah tells us that Avraham declared “Hashem yireh” (“Gd shall see”), it adds, “that it is said today: Gd shall be seen.” This means that “today” – the day the Torah was given – Hashem was actually seen, as He revealed Himself to the people.
The “Mesirut Nefesh” Instinct
Of particular interest to us here, however, is the unique interpretation of this verse suggested by Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk (1843-1926), in his Meshech Hochmah commentary.
Rav Meir Simcha reveals for us the eternal impact of akedat Yitzhak, how this event left its mark upon the hearts and souls of all Jews for all generations. Yitzhak’s willingness to sacrifice his life for the sake of the divine will implanted within all his descendants the desire to fulfill Gd’s will at all costs, no matter what sacrifices this entails. The event of akedat Yitzhak affected the “wiring” of Am Yisrael for all time, igniting within us the drive and determination to do Gd’s bidding, and the “mesirut nefesh” – willingness to sacrifice ourselves – to that end. This instinct was aroused within us all the moment Yitzhak allowed himself to be placed on the altar and be sacrificed in fulfillment of Gd’s command.
Rav Meir Simcha explains on this basis the astonishing principle articulated by our sages concerning a Jew’s unfulfilled ambitions. The Gemara (Kiddushin 40a) teaches, “Mahashavah tovah metzarefah lemaa’aseh” – Gd “combines a good thought to the action.” This means that if a person genuinely aspired to perform a certain mitzvah, and was determined to do whatever was needed to achieve this goal, but was unable to realize his ambition due to practical constraints, or circumstances beyond his control, he is nevertheless credited with that mitzvah. As long as he sincerely wished to perform the good deed, and despaired only when the mitzvah was truly out of reach, he is considered to have performed that good deed. However, the Gemara continues, this does not work in the converse. If a person sought to commit a forbidden act, no matter how determined he was to follow through on his sinful ambitions, he is not held accountable unless he ended up actually transgressing. Even though he truly wished to violate the Torah, and even if he went to great lengths trying to fulfill his forbidden desire, he is not punished if he was unable to do so.
Why should this be the case? Why do our noble intentions count, but our sinful intentions do not? If what matters is the bottom-line, the actions we perform, then this should be true also of mitzvot, and we should receive credit only for what we actually achieve. And if what matters is our will and intent, then why are we not held accountable for our unrealized sinful aspirations?
Rav Meir Simcha finds the answer in the story of akedat Yitzhak – specifically, in the indelible imprint that Yitzhak’s mesirut nefesh had upon the soul of every Jew. When a Jew sincerely seeks to perform a mitzvah, this will expresses the wishes of the deepest recesses of his being. This desire to do good stems from his innate goodness, the natural impulse to sacrifice for Hashem which was implanted within us at the time of akedat Yitzhak. Therefore, as this desire is pure and genuine, the person is credited with the performance of the mitzvah. By contrast, when a Jew decides to violate Gd’s will, this desire does not reflect his true essence. It is the product of some external factors, of various pressures and lures. The Jew’s innermost being does not want to sin; such a desire is introduced by forces that are foreign to his core essence. Therefore, the desire to sin is not sufficient to bring guilt, because it is not purely genuine. (Rav Meir Simcha also references in this context the Rambam’s famous comments in Hilchot Gerushin 2:20 explaining that the inner desire of every Jew is to faithfully observe the mitzvot.)
We Can All Be “Outreach Professionals”
To understand the practical implications of this concept, we need simply to take note of the different attitudes that exist toward Jews who are not religiously observant.
Many people, unfortunately, look at our unobservant brothers and sisters with condescension and disdain. They resent these Jews’ failure to abide by the Torah’s laws, to embrace Jewish belief, and to live according to the Torah’s values and laws, and so they keep a distance and harbor feelings of scorn.
Contrast this attitude with that of kiruv (outreach) professionals. When someone involved in kiruv meets a Jew who does not observe the mitzvot, he right away sees that Jew’s inner spark of holiness, his potential for greatness, the imprint of akedat Yitzhak within the person’s heart. He intuitively distinguishes between this precious Jew’s conduct and what this Jew’s heart truly wants. In the eyes of an outreach professional, an unobservant Jew is not that much different from all of us – he is inherently good, possesses a sacred soul that longs for kedushah and for a connection with Gd, but is subject to innumerable lures that lead him astray. And it is by focusing on this inherent sanctity embedded within the spirit of every Jew, that the spark can be ignited, leading to profound spiritual growth.
This perspective should not be the exclusive province of outreach professionals. This is something that all of us can and should do. Rather than focus on all that is wrong with our fellow Jews, we should focus on all that is right about our fellow Jews. We should see beyond the faults, shortcomings and lapses, and see the goodness and purity, the element of holiness that Yitzhak Avinu implanted within every Jew’s heart. If we view our fellow Jews this way, we will enjoy far greater unity and harmony within our ranks, and we will be able to inspire one another and grow together. And we will then be worthy heirs of the sacred legacy of Avraham and Yitzhak, such that their great merit will protect us and bring us our long-awaited final redemption, speedily and in our times, amen.