by Rav David Dov Levanon, Jerusalem Rabbinic Court, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.
According to the approach that Yitzchak Avinu was 37 years old at the time of the test of his binding, this year marks exactly the 3,700th anniversary of this historically defining event. How so very relevant it is this year!
As we read in this week's Torah portion (Vayeira) about the Binding of Isaac (Akedat Yitzchak), we poignantly note that the Nation of Israel is facing its own heroic, national Akedah test this year. Our people's greatness is being revealed in countless deeds of self-sacrifice, unceasing volunteerism, and general jumping in to save lives and offer help, to an extent that we possibly have never seen before.
We have heard this year an endless amount of stories of faith and heroism from families whose sons were killed in war for the Sanctification of G-d's Name, or who otherwise took part in the courageous fight for our existence here in the Land of Israel. We have heard from parents whose children are in cruel captivity in Gaza, yet who encourage the Nation of Israel in its present existential struggle to continue until victory, without negotiations with terrorists – and perhaps in this merit, the children will return home safely.
One story that we recall is that of the woman whose daughter was taken captive on that tragic Simchat Torah day. She brought a Torah scroll to her home, performed the mitzvah of separating and sanctifying dough, and heartfully and tearfully prayed to G-d for the sake of the girl's safe release. We all saw her on our screens, and it touched all of our hearts – especially her surprising final words of prayer: "O G-d, I love you!" What greatness of spirit to express such emotions at a time of her great pain. And then it happened: Within a few weeks, her daughter was miraculously freed.
From where do all our soldiers and mothers and fathers draw the strengths for such self-sacrifice? Let us recall the Medrashic story of Chana and her seven sons, whom she encouraged not to bow down to idols even though it meant their death. When her youngest son was about to be killed as well, she kissed him and said to him, "Go to Avraham Avinu and tell him for me, 'You bound up one son for slaughter, while I have given up seven! And you thought to do it, while I actually did it!"
Was Chana actually saying that she had surpassed the self-sacrifice of Avraham Avinu? I heard an explanation of this point in the name of the late saintly Rav Shach (1899-2001). He said that Chana meant that Avraham Avinu was the very inspiration for her deed; she learned this attribute of sacrifice for G-d from him – and that she carried out in practice what he taught her in theory! And in fact, it's impossible to explain the amazing national phenomenon of self-sacrifice, today and throughout our generations, other than by realizing that these are strengths that have been implanted in the depths of our souls, beginning with Avraham.
The Medrash concludes by saying that a Heavenly voice was heard praising Chana with the words from Psalms, "The mother of the sons is happy." What happiness could possibly apply here? It could be that Chana saw that her sons had merited a very privileged place in the World to Come – and it could also be, after hearing how bereaved parents this year have responded with such great faith, that she, and they, feel privileged to have had sons whose lives were so meaningful that, ultimately, they stood wholly for the sake of their nation. In this I heard an echo of that Heavenly voice…
The entire story of the Akedah abounds with Avraham's fatherly love for his son, especially as evidenced by his frequent use of the word b'ni, "my son." When G-d originally told him to take and bind the son "that you love," Avraham answered, according to the Medrash, "Which one exactly? I love both of them!" Could it really be that he loved them equally, given that Yishmael actually had to be banished from Avraham's home? The answer is that his love for both his sons was infinite, and as such, there was no difference between the two loves.
How was Avraham's love for Yitzchak manifest during the Akedah? For one thing, just as Avraham answered G-d by saying, "Hineni – here I am, ready to serve You," he also answered Yitzchak with the same word: "Hineni, my son; tell me what I can do for you." That is to say, his love for G-d and for Yitzchak were the same. By agreeing to perform this painful act of the Akedah at G-d's bidding, Avraham was saying that he is not running from his love of G-d nor from his love of his son; the two are united together as one, in a profoundly deep and faith-based manner that our cold logic alone cannot grasp.
As the Medrash states: "When Avraham took the knife in hand, his eyes shed tears that fell into Yitzchak's eyes… – and even so, his heart was happy to carry out the will of his Creator." Love of his son and of G-d were united within Avraham in the source of his love for G-d Who, from His own love of Avraham, gave him his son – and there is no contradiction; crying and happiness at the same time.
May G-d help that in the merit of the sacrifices made by so many soldiers and others for the Sanctification of G-d's Name over the course of the war, and in the merit of all the volunteers who arose to help with great dedication wherever they were needed, and in the merit of our great faith in G-d – the prophecy of "In [despite] your blood, you shall live" (Yechezkel 6,16) should be fulfilled, in our generation.
And so may that of Zechariah come to pass: "With
the blood of your covenant, I have freed your prisoners from a pit in which
there was no water. Return to the stronghold, you prisoners of hope… I will
restore to you a double promise." (9,11-12)
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