Passing Life’s Tests: Spiritual Reflections on The Trial of Abraham, The Binding of Isaac by Rabbi Bradley Shavit-Artson. Publisher: Jewish Lights Publishing (2012). ISBN-10: 1580236316. 150 pages.
By Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel
CHULA VISTA, California — Rabbi Bradley Shavit-Artson’s new book, Passing Life’s Tests: Spiritual Reflections on The Trial of Abraham, The Binding of Isaac is a very fine book. Do not let the size of this small book deceive you. There are many wonderful moral lessons the author deduces from one of the most troubling stories of the Bible.
Many modern biblical scholars have often described the Akedat Yitzchak (the “Binding of Isaac”) as a biblical text of terror—especially for someone reading or hearing this story for the first time. We, on the other hand, know how the story ends. Yet, even modern readers find the God of this passage to be troubling—and find Abraham as “ethically challenged.” Were someone to claim they heard voices instruct them to offer their child as a sacrifice, the father would be clinically declared insane. Such a case indeed occurred in the famous Cristos Valenti case, which occurred in 1990, in California.
The story of the Akedah is very important and cannot be ignored; it is the centerpiece of the Rosh Hashanah liturgy and Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah. The story has undoubtedly played a vital role in Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faith traditions.
As a rabbi, I often wonder what my congregants think when I am reading the Torah portion about Abraham. For moderns, Kierkegaard’s “Knight of Faith” (Abraham) certainly seems to have feet of clay.
Most Jews who study the weekly parsha at depth will probably enjoy the insights that Rabbi Artson brings to the table. The imagery of God found in the Akedah is a central concern of Rabbi Artson in his interesting exposition of the Akedah. The opening salvo of this preface begins with a memorable paragraph:
Considering God’s central role in the Bible and in historical life, it is well worth considering how we relate to God and how God relates to us. We Jews are often notoriously uncomfortable discussing God. We prefer to leave that to Christians . . .
Artson goes on to say that Abraham has a choice: he responds by saying “Hineni” –“Here I am.” At this point, Rabbi Artson also mentions Rashi’s novel interpretation, where he argues that God did not actually “command” Abraham, he made a request, “Take please . . .” I think the author might have considered exploring this reading in more detail because it has profound implications. Among modern Bible translations, both the NRSV and the NJPS ignored the use of the particle נָא (na) which is a particle of entreaty or exhortation (e.g. Gen 12:13; Num. 20:10) in their translation of the text. More accurate is “Please take your son” or “Pray, take your son” since “na” is used as an expression of request and exhortation. The particle נָא implies that God gave Abraham the complete freedom to comply. God never “commands,” Abraham to offer Isaac; He only “requests” that Abraham participate freely in the drama that was about to unfold. Had Abraham refused from the outset to obey, the story would have unceremonially ended, and Joseph Ibn Kaspi and Immanuel Kant would have felt immensely relieved!
I also think that Rabbi Artson might have considered the Midrashic perspective which purports that the test did not originate with God, but actually Satan! Rashi himself cites this perspective and Midrash Rabbah goes into considerable detail as well. By making the instigator Satan, the Akedah forms a theological parallelism with the famous Book of Job—one of my personal all-time favorite books of the Bible. Such an examination would have greatly expanded the kind of discussion for everyone.
Here are some of the book’s stronger features: Rabbi Artson argues that Isaac’s ordeal is in many ways familiar to many of us who have found ourselves confronted by an unexpected crisis in our lives, e.g., the loss of a job, spouse, or child. “For the trial of Abraham to be true—it accurately confronts us with the ways our core commitments emerge in moment of unrehearsed action.” (p. xi.) Artson expands upon this perceptive statement later on in his book in his chapter entitled, “Mortality: What You Learn When Your under the Knife” (pp. 41-46).
Isaac’s love of his wife makes him in many ways the ideal spouse in the Genesis stories, according to Rabbi Artson. Realizing the fragility of life made him appreciate its importance. I believe this is one of the book’s most important lessons, which Rabbi Artson articulates quite beautifully:
I suggest to you that Isaac learns the importance of love, inner depth, and relationship when he is bound on the altar on Mount Moriah. Isaac looks at the glistening blade and he sees in its reflection his own eventual death. It brings awareness that his life would one day end changes him forever. In an instant, Isaac can see the public fame, lofty speeches, and the glitter of wealth and power are all meaningless in the face of death. The only possession of ultimate worth is the love of other people, a sense of connectedness with community and with God, and having lived life with meaning, sensitivity, and love. (p. 45-46).
Bravo!
Jewish feminists will enjoy Rabbi Artson’s creative Midrash on the Akedah, from Sarah’s perspective in his chapter entitled, “God tested Sarah” (pp. 79-83).
The book proved to be entertaining and informative; his writing style is lucid and clear. However, I think sometimes Rabbi Artson is falling into the same interpretive trap that many modern day scholars and theologians have fallen into by claiming that Abraham and Isaac never speak to each other again—obviously because of Isaac’s traumatic experience. This is a dubious exposition. The sacred biblical narrator does not narrate every conversation Abraham had; furthermore, it is doubtful Isaac would ever have identified with his father’s spiritual mission had he been suffering from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Like many Holocaust survivors, (such as my beloved father, of blessed memory), wallowing in the labyrinth of painful memories—as Elie Wiesel observes–was never an option. In the end, as Wiesel eloquently notes, Isaac became the first survivor; he continued laughing over the course of his life—much like my father and other Holocaust survivors have done.
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The reviewer, Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel, is the author of The Lord Is My Shepherd: The Theology of the Caring God (Jason Aronson, 1996), Birth and Rebirth through Genesis: The Timeless Theological Conversation, Vol. 1 Gen. 1-3 (Llumina 2010), Psalm 23: A Spiritual Journey (iUniverse, 2013), Birth and Rebirth: The Stirrings of Conscience – Vol. 2 Gen. 4-11 (iUniverse, 2013); and the forthcoming Philo’s Torah Commentary on Genesis (Createspace 2014).