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I: WHAT MAKES LOT TICK?

II: THE CHALLENGE OF THE AKEIDA (BINDING)

Our questions this week:

I: WHAT MAKES LOT TICK?

As the curtain rises on our parasha, angels appear to Avraham. He rushes to welcome theem, feed them, and offer them shelter and comfort. After reporting Avraham’s conversation with the angel-visitors, the Torah moves on to the story of the destruction of Sedom and how Lot, Avraham’s nephew, is saved. Clearly, the figure of Lot is set up for comparison to Avraham: the same angels who enjoyed Avraham’s gracious welcome now visit Lot to tell him he should leave Sedom before Hashem destroys it. Just like Uncle Avraham, Lot eagerly welcomes the guests into his home, even using language similar to Avraham’s. But these similarities only accent the deep differences between Avraham and Lot which quickly become apparent.

Lot has learned from Avraham that welcoming guests is a good thing to do, so he eagerly welcomes the angels. But when his evil Sedomite neighbors surround his house and demand that he send out his guests so they can abuse (and perhaps rape) them, Lot says something so ridiculous that it would be funny if it weren’t so disgusting: “Now, look, you don’t want to do anything evil! [Al na, ahai, ta-re’u!] These are my guests, and I must guarantee their safety. Instead, I will send out my two daughters—both virgins! -- and you can do with them whatever you like.” Like Avraham, Lot feels responsible for the welfare of his guests; like Avraham, Lot is willing to sacrifice even his children for an important purpose. But while Avraham is willing to sacrifice his son only in response to a direct and excruciatingly specific divine command (“Take your son, your only one, the one you love—Yitzhak”), Lot is a volunteer, offering his daughters for sacrifice in place of his guests. This, he suggests to the crowd of louts surrounding his house, is a good way to avoid “doing evil”!

As promised, Hashem destroys the city of Sedom, and Lot and his daughters eventually seek refuge in the mountains. Witnessing the destruction of their city and its environs, Lot’s daughters apparently believe that their father is the last man left on Earth and conclude that in order to perpetuate humanity, they must conceive by him. Anticipating his resistance, they get him drunk, seduce him, and bear children by him. This is a classic pattern of mida ke-neged mida (measure for measure): Lot offers up his daughters to be raped by the crowd; in retribution, his daughters ‘rape’ him (See also Midrash Tanhuma, VaYera 12). Just as Lot justified the rape of his daughters as a means of doing good (protecting his guests), so do his daughters justify ‘raping’ him as a means of doing good (propagating humanity).

What can we learn from Lot? Is he just a biblical clown, here just for our comic relief and occasional horror, or maybe just to throw Avraham’s virtues into sharp relief?

Although very enthusiastic about copying behavior he has seen modeled by a good person, Lot is deaf to the values spoken by his actions. Either he has never understood the values which motivate Avraham’s virtuous actions, and so he never arrives at a proper balance of those values, or his living in Sedom has corrupted his values, leaving him with only the memory of Avraham’s virtuous behavior but without the proper hierarchy of values to guide that behavior. Action not motivated by sensitivity to the values underlying it can easily pervert those underlying values and accomplish great evil in trying to ape good behavior. Lot, for example, can offer his daughters for rape in place of his guests. Lot’s acts of hesed express his values to the same degree that a parrot’s jabberings express its thoughts: neither a parrot’s gracious “Hello” nor the ensuing stream of verbal filth express its thoughts, since all the parrot can do is imitate. In the same way, we are impressed by Lot’s kindness in welcoming the guests, but when we stay to hear the end, it’s clear that he has no real understanding of hesed. He can only imitate the behavior of a good person. But doing good is not just a particular behavior or pleasant habit, it is the expression of internalized and well-balanced values.

Lot is not simply a scoundrel: his intentions are noble, as he offers his daughters in order to protect the visitors who have taken shelter with him, not simply out of cruelty. But his act is grotesque and horrifying *especially* because he performs it in the same breath as his heroic defense of his guests, and in service of that heroic defense.

Since long before commanding Avraham to sacrifice his son, Hashem has been hard at work making the upcoming test even harder.

We start in Perek (chapter) 17. Last week, we spent some time on this section developing the idea that the Berit Mila is the eternal, national, historical covenant with Hashem, a covenant which all generations of Jews make with Hashem throughout history. Hashem changes Avraham’s name from “Avram” to “Avraham” to symbolize his new status as an “av hamon goyyim,” a founder of many nations, referring to the 12 quasi-nations which will be the tribes of Israel. What we did not look at last week is the second half of that section, where Hashem changes Sara’s name from “Sarai” to “Sara” and tells Avraham of another promise. I left this section for this week because it works with our theme:

Hashem said to Avraham, “Sarai, your wife—do not call her ‘Sarai,’ for ‘Sara’ is her name. I shall bless her and give you a son from her; I shall bless her, and she shall become nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.”

Avraham fell on his face, laughed, and said in his heart, “Can a child be born to someone a hundred years old? And as for Sara, can a woman ninety years old give birth?”

Avraham said to Hashem, “Would that Yishmael could live before You!”

Hashem said, “Nonetheless, your wife, Sara, will bear a son to you, and you shall call him ‘Yitzhak.’ I shall keep my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his children after him. As for Yishmael, I have heard you; I have blessed him, and multiplied him, increased him very greatly—he shall bear twelve princes, and I shall make him into a great nation. But My covenant I shall keep with Yitzhak, whom Sara will bear to you at this time next year.”

When Avraham hears that he will have a son with Sara, he has two reactions:

Hashem responds very subtly to Avraham’s doubt; Avraham does not explicitly voice a doubt, so Hashem does not explicitly voice a response. But Avraham knows Hashem knows that he laughed in disbelief at the promise. Hashem responds to the laugh with equal subtlety, by instructing Avraham to name the child “Yitzhak”—“He shall laugh.” Hashem is saying, “I know you laughed inside”; He is telling Avraham that he must strengthen his faith, that He is aware that his faith is not yet perfect.

Hashem responds to the second issue—the Yishmael query—by repeating that Yishmael cannot do the job. The covenant just concluded with Avraham—the Berit Mila covenant, whose focus was that Hashem would be the God of Avraham’s descendants and that He would give them the Land of Cana’an forever—would be fufilled not through Yishmael, but through Yitzhak. Everything Avraham has been promised will be channeled to Yitzhak. Hashem responds to Avraham’s love for Yishmael by also giving him a blessing, but the special relationship with Hashem and with the Land is reserved for Yitzhak. Hashem firmly plants the idea in Avraham’s mind that his successor will be Yitzhak.

We now move on to Perek 18, the beginning of our parasha, which reports the conversation between Avraham and his three visitors, the angels who have come to deliver a message to him:

He [the angel-visitor] said, “I shall return to you next year, and Sara, your wife, shall have a son.”

Sara was listening at the entrance of the tent, which was behind him. Avraham and Sara were old, coming along in years; Sara no longer had the way of women. Sara laughed to herself, saying, “Now that I am worn out, I will become young again?! And my husband is also old!”

Hashem said to Avraham, “Why did Sara laugh, saying, ‘Can I really bear a child? I am old!’ Is anything beyond Hashem?! At the appointed time, I shall return to you in a year, and Sara shall have a son!”

Sara seems to react the same way Avraham did when he heard he would have a son. She laughs, as Avraham did, wondering how people as old as she and Avraham can have a child. [She does not ask that Yishmael succeed Avraham because Hagar and Yishmael are rivals to her and Yitzhak.] Hashem reacts explosively to Sara’s doubt and makes crystal clear to her husband that the promise that she will have a child is a firm one.

This conversation with Avraham accomplishes two things: one, it communicates to Sara and to Avraham that Hashem will no longer be as patient as before with their doubts of His promises, and two, it reinforces in Avraham the promise that he will have a son with Sara. The fact that Hashem specifically sends messengers to repeat this promise, which He had already made before, and the fact that a date is set for this event, communicate to Avraham that the birth of this child is an event of paramount significance. Hashem takes great pains to clear up any doubts that might remain about Yitzhak’s birth. The result is a tremendous buildup of expectation as the time approaches.

Hashem remembered Sara as He had said, and He did to her as He had said. She conceived and bore TO AVRAHAM a son for HIS old age, at the time Hashem had told HIM. Avraham called HIS son, who was born TO HIM, whom Sara bore TO HIM, ‘Yitzchak.’ Avraham circumcised Yitzchak at eight days old, as Hashem had commanded him. Avraham was 100 years old when Yitzchak, HIS SON, was born TO HIM . . . .

Sara saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian (whom she had borne TO AVRAHAM) laughing. She [Sara] said to Avraham, “Throw out this maidservant and her son, for he shall not inherit with my son, with Yitzchak!” This was very evil in the eyes of Avraham, on account of his son. Hashem said to Avraham, “Let it not be evil in your eyes on account of the young man and your maidservant. Whatever Sara tells you to do, obey her, for through Yitzchak shall be called your descendants.”

The Torah emphasizes over and over that Yitzhak is “born to Avraham.” Pasuk 3 alone tells us three times in different ways that Yitzhak is born “to Avraham.” Why the emphasis?

And what is Yishmael laughing at? And why does this annoy Sara so much? And what does inheriting Avraham have to do with this whole issue? Shouldn’t Sara just ask Avraham to throw out Hagar and Yishmael, without mentioning the inheritance?

We have already seen the word “me-tzahek,” “laughing,” fairly recently. Both Avraham and Sara laugh in disbelief when told that they will have a child together. Perhaps Yishmael’s “tzehok” is about the same thing—Avraham and Sara’s having a child in their old age. But if so, why is Sara angry at Yishmael for not believing the same promise she herself couldn’t believe a few months before?

The difference is clear: Sara had trouble believing it when Hashem told her about it. But she was simply indulging a human frailty, having trouble believing something she thinks is simply impossible. Perhaps it is particularly hard for her to believe the promise because she wants so badly for it to be true! (This is a pattern we also see in the Haftara—Melakhim II 4. Elisha the Prophet used to stop at a certain couple’s house and sleep there sometimes. After awhile, Elisha felt a sense of great gratitude to the couple, so he asked his hostess what he could do for her in return. She tried to refuse any favors from him, but eventually he realized that she had no children and promised her a child. She reacted the same way Sara does, in a way: She said, ‘Do not, master, man of Hashem, do not lie to your maidservant!” She thought he was promising her a child only because he knew she desperately wanted one, but she didn’t think he could deliver. So she told him not to lie to her—she wanted children too badly to be disappointed, so she refused to believe the promise.)

But Yishmael’s laughter echoes at a different emotional pitch than Sara’s; it sounds a decidedly smirking tone. Yishmael, too, does not believe that Avraham and Sara are capable of having a child together. When Sara *does* bear a child, he can no longer deny that she is capable of having a child, but he can certainly still deny that *Avraham* is capable at this age. He smirks at Sara to tell her he’s tickled by the suspicion that maybe she slept with someone else and that the son she has just borne is not Avraham’s. This is why the Torah emphasizes so many times that Yitzhak really is Avraham’s son, that Yishmael’s evil suspicion is groundless!

Imagine Sara’s frustration and fury with this mother-son pair, Hagar and Yishmael. Long ago, when Sara realized she could not have children and gave Hagar to Avraham as a wife, Hagar became pregnant and began to lord it over Sara. The same group of people who laughed at Sara before because she **couldn’t** have children, are still laughing at her even now that she **has** had children. No matter what she does, she can’t escape their laughter. She demands that Avraham get rid of them.

It now also makes sense why Sara focuses on the issue of the inheritance. She is responding directly to Yishmael’s claim: Yishmael is hinting that Yitzhak is illegitimate, that he is not Avraham’s son and does not deserve to inherit Avraham. Sara is responding that he’s got it all wrong: not only is Yitzhak legitimate, and not only will he inherit Avraham, but he, Yishmael, is illegitimate, and will NOT inherit along with Yitzhak. Sara is not claiming that Yishmael is illegitimate in the physical sense—she admits that he is Avraham’s son—but spiritually, as Avraham’s successor in his religious mission, he is illegitimate. In these terms, he can never be Avraham’s heir.

This story demonstrates how important Hashem considers the interpersonal in choosing who will be the people with whom He will have a relationship. The crimes of Hagar and Yishmael are not against Hashem, they are against other people. People who can laugh triumphantly at a barren woman desperate for children, who can titter maliciously at that same woman once she has had chi, are rejected not only by Sara, who demands theouster, but also by Hashem, who supports Sara’s demand.

The last pasuk above summarizes this section for our purposes: “For in Yitzchak will be called your descendants.” Avraham is assured that his successor, the one who is officially called his offspring, the one born “to him,” is Yitzhak. Yitzhak becomes the repository of all the hopes Avraham has for the future of his descendants’ relationship with Hashem; all of the promises he has been assured of, he expects to see fulfilled in Yitzhak.

It happened, after these events, that Hashem tested Avraham. He said to him, “Avraham!” He said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take YOUR SON, your ONLY ONE, whom you LOVE—Yitzchak—and go to the land of Moriyya, and offer him up there as an offering on one of the mountains which I will show you.”

Avraham awoke early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took his two young servants with him, with Yitzchak, HIS SON. He strapped on firewood and got up and went to the place Hashem had told him.

On the third day, Avraham looked up and saw the place from afar. Avraham said to his servants, “Stay here with the donkey. I and the young one will go until there, bow down, and return to you.” Avraham took the firewood and put it on Yitzchak, HIS SON, and took in his hand the fire and the knife, and they went TOGETHER.

Yitzchak said to Avraham, HIS FATHER; he said, “FATHER?” He said, “I am here, MY SON.” He said, “Here is the fire and the wood, but where is the sheep for the offering?” Avraham said, “Hashem will show for Himself the sheep for the offering, MY SON,” and they went on TOGETHER. They came to the place Hashem had told to Avraham, and Avraham built the altar there, set up the wood, and tied up Yitzchak, HIS SON, and put him onto the altar, above the wood. He put forward his hand and took the knife to slaughter HIS SON. An angel of Hashem called to him from the sky and said, “Avraham, Avraham!” He said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not send your hand against the young man! Do not do anything to him! For now I know that you fear Hashem, since you have not withheld YOUR SON, your ONLY ONE, from me” . . . . The angel of Hashem called to Avraham a second time from the sky. He said, “’I swear by Myself,’ says Hashem, ‘that since you have done this thing, and not saved YOUR SON, your ONLY ONE, I shall bless you and increase your descendants like the stars of the sky and the sand on the seashore; your children shall inherit the gates of their enemies. All of the nations of the land shall be blessed through your children, since you have obeyed Me.’”

Until now, most of what we have seen in the texts sets up Avraham for the philosophical difficulty of the Akeida: Hashem promises repeatedly that Yitzhak will succeed Avraham, and now He appears to renege. But within the parasha of the Akeida itself, the focus of the difficulty is much different—it is entirely emotional.

What is the lesson of the Akeida? What was right about what Avraham did, and what should we learn from it? What do we learn from the fact that he was prepared to sacrifice his own son, whom he loved, and whom the story refers to with language emphasizing the relationship between father and son?

What do we learn from the fact that Avraham was prepared to sacrifice Yitzhak without questioning what had happened to all of the promises he had received? Last week, we saw that Avraham *does* question Hashem’s promises of land and children; in response, Hashem reassures him. Why doesn’t Avraham question Hashem this time?

Morally, how could Avraham be willing to commit this act? How could the same person who pleaded for justice in the case of Sedom—despite Hashem’s judgment that the city deserved destruction—intentionally murder his own child? How could Avraham, who understands hesed so well, bring himself to an act of such cruelty?

I believe that the answer to these questions is that Avraham went to the Akeida with his entire being screaming out against it. But he pit his love for Yitzhak against his commitment to Hashem—and chose Hashem. This was what Hashem wanted him to do.

Avraham didn’t have a good answer to how it was moral to kill his innocent son. But once Hashem commanded it, that question became moot. He assumed that there must be a moral perspective from which this act was justified, even if he couldn’t understand it. He trusted Hashem’s morality more than his own.

Avraham didn’t have a good answer to what had happened to the promise that Yitzhak would succeed him. He pit his knowledge of Hashem’s promises about Yitzhak against the command to kill him—and decided it was none of his business what would happen with the promises. Once it was clear to him that Hashem did not want him to protest, that He did not want a debate as He did in the case of Sedom, he accepted the command without further explanation.

But how did Avraham know Hashem didn’t want him to protest? Maybe Avraham really failed the test—perhaps the real test was whether he would blindly commit an immoral act, failing the test by sacrificing his son, or stand his moral ground and pass the test by refusing to murder Yitzhak! (Rabbi Shlomo Riskin has suggested this a number of times.)

In order to understand how Avraham knew not to debate with Hashem about killing his son, we must take a step back to Sedom. How did Avraham know that in that case, he was indeed expected to protest, bargaining for the salvation of the damned cities? Avraham took his cue from the relevance—or lack thereof—of Hashem’s revelation. Hashem appears to Avraham one day and says, “Guess what, Avraham, I’ve decided to do away with Sedom.” Avraham says to himself, “Why is He telling me this?” and immediately realizes that since there is no particular reason for Hashem to have told him of Sedom’s fate Hashem is hinting to him that He wants Avraham to engage Him in debate. He wants Avraham to challenge Him.

In the same way, later on in the Torah, we find that Moshe often challenges Hashem: Hashem, infuriated by some Israelite act of disobedience or outright rebellion, turns to Moshe on several occasions and says, “Stand aside and let Me blast them to smithereens!” This is Moshe’s cue to stand directly in the way at all costs and prevent Hashem from destroying the people. Moshe asks himself the same question Avraham asks himself: “Why does He need to tell *me* this?” He concludes that Hashem does not really need him to stand aside in order to pulverize the people; he understands that what Hashem is hinting is that He wants him to intercede, to beg for mercy, to resist the decree.

When Hashem commands Avraham to kill his son, however, Avraham has no choice but to take Hashem’s words at face value, since he cannot ask himself, “Why is Hashem telling me this”—for the answer is obvious: Hashem is telling him to offer his son because He wants Avraham to do it. [This is a very subtle point, so if you’d like to discuss it drop me a line!] If Hashem seems to be telling you something for no reason, or asking you to do something for Him which is transparently unnecessary (like moving out of the way so He can punish Bnei Yisrael, when it’s clear He can punish them without your moving at all), you know He’s hinting something else. But when He delivers a simple command to be obeyed, like a request for a particular sacrifice, the command must be understood and obeyed as voiced.

The lessons of the Akeida are difficult lessons to learn. Some Jews have a very strong to Hashem, sometimes to the detriment of a strong commitment to other people; they learned the lessons of the Akeida perhaps a bit too well. But others still need to learn the lessons of the Akeida, lessons of absolute commitment to Hashem. A Jew is not only a moral interpersonal agent, he or she is a being dedicated first to the service of Hashem.