Sermons and Divrei Torah
Akedat Yitzchak
by Baruch Rand
(Dvar Torah - Rosh Hashanah 5764)
I heard the story of the Akeida for the first time when I was six years old. It scared me. As I was walking next to my father to shul, I wondered how he would react if the Almighty asked him to sacrifice me. My father was a very meek and God fearing man. Would he take me up to the mountain of Moriah and bind me on a pile of fire wood? And what if no ram appeared? Finally I decided to ask him. My father hugged me and kissed me and explained to me that the whole story was included in the Torah to make the point that God does not want human sacrifices, and he assured me that killing human beings and particularly one's child is an abhorrent crime not done anymore.
I was calmed by my father's assurances, but he turned out to be wrong. God still requires human sacrifices. As it happened it was not me whom God chose for his altar, but him. My father perished on Kidush Hashem - sanctification of the Holy Name - when I was barely ten. He was not taken to the mountain of Moriah, only to the barracks of Auschwitz and Birkenau, where his ashes mingled with other human sacrifices form the only mound in the eery arid plain. His name was Moses and like Moses he has no grave. In my nightmares I used to see him meekly asking God: Why? And God remained silent.
Years later I became interested in archaeology. I studied ancient civilizations in the Middle East and in the Americas. I had a particular fascination with the culture of the ancient Mayas. It took me a long time before I was able to visit their impressive ritual centre, Chichen Itza on the Yucatán peninsula in Mexico. Some ten years ago I stood there in front of the dark surface of the Pool of Sacrifices contemplating why people that reached such scientific and intellectual heights, able to construct geometrically complex structures, learned in reading the skies and predicting astronomical occurrences with rare precision, capable of developing written symbols and producing astonishing works of art pursued the ritual of human sacrifices?
My guide, who was himself a descendant of the ancient Mayas, tried to explain to me that human sacrifices were not considered killings by his ancestors. They were done to satisfy the voracious appetite of the god of rain on whom the Maya maize agriculture depended. His forefathers were convinced that the sacrifices were necessary to maintain life. Children who were selected for the sacrifice were from noble families as it was a great privilege to be chosen for the honour of saving one's people from starvation. The victims died painlessly, he assured me, drugged before execution. Yet it was clear that in spite of his great effort to justify the ritual to me he too was bothered by it. He stared for a long while into the murky waters of the pool. When he finally raised his eyes toward me he said apologetically: "but they did not harm anyone else". At that time I did not appreciate the full meaning of his comment.
In front of the Pool of Sacrifices I pondered once again about the meaning of the Akeida. In spite of the powerful message that condemned human sacrifices, a great civilization three thousand years later practiced and cherished the killing of their children. And even today, children are being killed in some remote corners of he earth by parents who cannot feed them. And God remains silent.
Two summers ago I was visiting Jerusalem, the city where I spent many happy and exciting years of my life. This time Jerusalem was transformed. It resembled more an army camp than the City of Peace whose name it bears. There were armed patrols everywhere, guards in front of every restaurant and store. But people were still walking in the streets and an eerie pretense of normalcy pervaded the tense atmosphere. Suddenly the air was pierced by a shriek of sirens. Four ambulance passed in front of me heading eastward, toward Mount Scopus. Everyone around came to a stand mesmerized like in a movie that stopped reeling. Where was it this time? Who was hurt? How many? And then the most unreal thing happened: people moved on; the city continued its unstoppable rhythm. Life went on for all, all but the seventeen students at the university cafeteria on Mt. Scopus who became in that instance human sacrifices .
That moment I remembered with horror the words of my Maya guide in Chichen Itza: "but they did not harm anyone else!" Here, in the immediate vicinity of Mount Moriah, where God so emphatically forbade human sacrifice, I witnessed a previously unseen phenomenon, the worst of all: people who blow themselves up in order to kill others, and are glorified for their deed, often by their own parents. Neither is this ritual of human sacrifice performed by idol worshippers; the perpetrators are members of a monotheistic faith and consider themselves descendants of the same Abraham who was commanded not to sacrifice his son. Even though their sacred book substitutes Isaac for Ishmael, they learn the same story, but obviously with a different interpretation.
It is on Mt. Moriah where the first child homicide was thwarted; now it was performed here again, yet this time it was not thwarted. Somebody's son sacrificed himself and seventeen innocent students for the glory of Shahada - a Muslim concept of martyrdom. His photograph is proudly exhibited still today as a symbol of devotion, an example for other youths to follow. And God remains silent.
As we are assembled here today and praise God's love and wisdom, His ever lasting Kingdom spanning across the universe, we see the raised hand of Abraham holding the killing weapon over the chest of his son frozen in midair as the heavenly Voice proclaims: Abraham, Abraham, do not raise your hand against the boy! Can we hear the voice? Can everybody in the world hear it?
We pray to you, o God, please do not remain silent any longer! We know that in some cosmic way justice will be meted. At the end of the days righteousness will prevail. Eventually, the Holocaust perpetrators were defeated and punished, regimes of dictators and human sacrificers tumbled, but look how long it took. How many victims had perished. Please, almighty God, recognize that we are only flesh and blood and we cannot wait for cosmic justice while burying more victims of human wrath. Please repeat your call to Abraham so that the whole world can hear, and add a strong unequivocal: Now! Right now!
Sermons and Divrei Torah
Additional Resources
Elul: Period of Preparation
Yamim Noraim: Days of Awe
Rosh Hashanah: Introduction
Shofar Symbolism
The Custom of Tashlich
Yom Kippur: Introduction
G'mar Chatima Tova...
