Rosh Ha-Shanah Sermon, 5775

The `Aqedah – Rosh Ha-Shanah 5775 – 2014 Rabbi David Greenstein

Gut Yontif! Shanah Tovah!

In keeping with honored tradition, I had hoped to start this talk with a joke. But, since I want to talk a little about the `Aqedah – the Binding of Isaac, perhaps the most difficult story in all the Torah, I was not able to find a good joke that would lead into it. But then I thought, wait, Isaac’s name literally means “he will laugh.” So there is apparently some humor embedded in this stark tale, after all. Perhaps we will find it – – and perhaps not.

This most difficult story forms the core of our Rosh Ha-Shanah service. Unlike our practice when we celebrate the two days of other holidays, when we read a discrete Torah reading for each day, the Torah readings for these two days constitute a continuous reading, from one day to the next, of the expanded story of Abraham and Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael and Isaac. Oh, and did I mention – God?

So it is right at the center, right in the middle of our services, between the Morning prayers – Shacharit, and the additional holiday prayers – Musaf. But it is also present in other ways. The critical moment of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son and of God’s momentous intervention to stop it is a moment we emphasize and hold up in our prayers. We plead that God remember that moment and be overcome with love and mercy for us, the heirs to that story. And, furthermore, the key ceremony of the Rosh Ha-Shanah prayers – the blowing of the shofar, is bound to this story, just as Isaac was bound to the altar.

Our tradition feels that an essential way for us to begin our New Year is to read this Torah text. And not just to ceremonially chant its verses, but to draw out from this reading some meaning or meanings that could serve us as a basis for moving forward in our lives. So every year we are bidden to struggle with the many questions this story raises.

At Shomrei we have grappled with the text through sermons, discussions and Torah study sessions. This year I want to share a provocative approach to the `Aqedah, an approach offered by the Zohar. As many of you know, I am very attached to studying the Zohar. It is a great source of joy and satisfaction to me that we have held weekly study sessions of the Zohar here at Shomrei since I have been here. The Zohar is the most magnificent product of the Jewish mystical imagination. Produced in 13th century Spain, it has the power to delight and illuminate, shock and unsettle to this very day.

Among the multitude of topics the Zohar addresses is this most difficult story, the story of the `Aqedah – the Binding of Isaac. The problems are well-known. Among the many questions we have, let’s focus on just one – We are told in the reading for the second day of Rosh Ha-Shanah that God decides to test Abraham and demands that he offer his beloved son, Isaac, to the Almighty. Why is God demanding such a cruel act?

To this question the Zohar, by paying attention to the Torah reading on the first day of Rosh Ha-Shanah, proposes a most challenging answer.

(Zohar I:10b-11a – tr. D. Matt, Zohar: The Book of Enlightenment, pp. 69-71)

“Rabbi Shimon opened and said: ‘Anyone who rejoices on the festivals and does not give the Blessed Holy One His portion, that stingy one with the evil eye, Satan, Archenemy, accuses him, removes him from the world. […]

What is the portion of the Blessed Holy One? To gladden the poor as best as one can. For on these days the Blessed Holy One comes to observe His broken vessels. He enters from above and if He sees that they have nothing to celebrate He cries over them. Then He ascends to destroy the world! […]

The first point the Zohar makes is that God cares deeply about the well-being of the poor and expects us all, when we are commanded to rejoice in our festivals, to remember to share that opportunity for joy with the needy and less fortunate.

This is especially important to note this Rosh Ha-Shanah, as we begin a very special year – the Seventh Year or Sabbatical Year, also called the Year of Sh’mittah, of letting go. At this year the Torah commands us take radical steps to redress economic inequality. I hope that we will be able to explore the lessons of Sh’mittah more deeply as the year progresses. We have designated this concept as an important theme in our curriculum for our Jewish Learning Center, our Hebrew School. So let’s repeat the words of the Zohar: “What is the portion of the Blessed Holy One? To gladden the poor as best as one can.”

The Zohar continues:

Who in the world was greater than Abraham?
He was kindhearted to all creatures. One day he prepared a feast, as it is written: ‘The child grew up and was weaned, and Abraham held a great feats on the day that Isaac was weaned.’ (Gen. 21:8)
To this feast Abraham invited all the great people of his time. […]

Abraham was the most generous person of his generation. He did not yet have to celebrate the festivals that were commanded to Israel, Rosh Ha-Shanah, Sukkot, Passover or Shavuot, but he had his own personal reasons to rejoice – he wanted to celebrate the healthy growing up of his son, Isaac. He threw a party. This episode is mentioned in today’s Torah reading. But the Zohar continues to fill in the picture of that celebration. What actually happened at that party? The Zohar goes on:

When Abraham welcomed all those great people, the Accuser [Satan]descended and stood at the door disguised as a poor man. But no one noticed him.

Abraham was serving the kings and celebrities (ravravin). Sarah was nursing all their children, because no one believed she had given birth; they said, ‘It is a foundling from the street!’ So Sarah took their children and nursed them in front of everyone […]
And meanwhile the Accuser was still at the door. […]

The party is the social event of the season. No expense is spared. The guest list comprises all the VIP’s of Canaan County. The food is abundant. You wouldn’t believe what the catering bill came to! The wine is flowing. So is the milk. Sarah overflows with nurturing milk and generously shares her bounty with all the babies of the area! Indeed, both Abraham and Sarah more than live up to their reputations as the epitome of Hesed – the most generous couple around.

But, in all the hubbub, one person is left out – a poor stranger. No one pays him any heed. No one says “hello,” and no one offers him a bite to eat or a cup to drink. No one so much as invites him in.

By failing to help this person, Abraham creates a heavenly accuser against him. He will be called to judgment for this. As the Zohar describes:

The Accuser rose to face the Blessed Holy One. He said: ‘Master of the world! You call Abraham ‘My friend”? (Isa. 41:8) He held a feast and gave nothing to me and nothing to the poor. […]
[The Blessed Holy tried to offer excuses for Abrahm’s behavior but The Accuser] held his ground […] and the Blessed Holy One commanded that Isaac be brought as an offering […]

All that suffering he brought about because he gave nothing to the poor!”

This is an extraordinary text! We cannot hope to do complete justice to the many layers of issues it brings up. But, for now, let us at least note that one of the foundational episodes in all of Jewish tradition is presented by the Zohar as a simple, stark message about caring for the poor.

Abraham did not share his good fortune with the poor. Thus he did not merit to enjoy his blessings for himself.

If he would not offer anything to the poor, he would be forced to offer his most precious son to God.

If he could not see those disadvantaged standing before him at his door, then he would not be able to see a future for himself.

If he could not bring himself to see the needy standing right in front of him, he will be forced to strain his sight to see, from afar, the mountain – Moriah – where God, demanding his sacrifice, will most assuredly be seen.

But surely this approach goes too far! For a small, all too human slip-up, does the otherwise exemplary Abraham deserve such harsh punishment?

The story of the Aqedah is a hard story. One merit to the Zohar’s reading is that it does not simplify or soften this hard story. Instead, it adds to what might seem to be an arbitrary act of cruelty on God’s part a crucial missing piece, an ethical component. For the Zohar it is a hard story because it challenges us with an uncomfortable demand: It does not matter who you are, what you have otherwise done in your life, or what may be going on in your present situation. There are no excuses! If you have something to enjoy, share the blessings! If you care at all about God, care for the poor and needy.

But the Zohar is not merely admonishing us about how to treat others. There is an additional dimension to this lesson, a dimension that points us inward. In the Zohar’s view of the Torah’s stories, it sees Abraham as representing an aspect of the Divine. Because Abraham is create din God’s Image, Abraham is not merely a very good person. Abraham is a walking embodiment of God’s Hesed – God’s overflowing Love.

Here is where the Zohar delves deeply into the human heart. The Zohar reads this story as a grand parable of human psychology and behavior, and of the human struggle to realize our full potential. So it peers deeply into the ways we decide what to do and what not to do, what to pay attention to and what to ignore, what our true motivations are and what we tell ourselves.

Abraham had hoped against hope to have this child. But – now that he is blessed with Isaac, he is overcome with anxiety that this gift may be nothing but a cruel joke – that it may be taken away at any moment. Who could believe that this child was really his, after all? His joy is undergirded by anxiety and fear of loss.

So he overcompensates by throwing a big party. But, while the party seems to be an expression of generosity, it is, at bottom, something else. His generosity has been infected by his concern for what others may be thinking, what he, himself, fears. The party looks like a generous act, but it is actually a sad betrayal of Abraham’s own generous essence.

How do we know that Abraham’s great celebration is a betrayal of his own best self? We know because he ignores the poor beggar standing at the door. But how could he not see him? This is the same Abraham who, in the heat of the day, sees three bedraggled strangers shuffling through the wilderness dust and runs after them to invite them to his home!

Abraham is not merely the man who, with Sarah, began the journey that set the Jewish mission on its course. He is each and every one of us who is nervous about whatever blessings we may enjoy, who wishes to protect ourselves even as we wish to see ourselves as good and decent human beings. The poor beggar, standing at the door, is not merely the symbol of economic inequality and the challenge to be just. The poor beggar standing at our door is anything and anyone that presents an uncomfortable challenge to our status, to how we see ourselves and how we care about how others see us. That poor beggar is anything real that we wish would just go away, anything that makes us uncomfortable or ashamed. We prefer to ignore the poor because they can arouse in us emotions of anger and judgment and of fear. And these emotions then engender feelings of guilt and shame.

And, in the Zohar’s way of reading this story, who is Abraham”s son? Who is Isaac? According to the Zohar’s typology, Isaac is the very embodiment of Judgement and Fear – Pahad. He is the polar opposite of his father, who is meant to be all generosity. This party is not about joyful, laughing generosity; it is about Fear.

And let us note one more paradoxical aspect of this teaching. Isaac is not only Abraham’s Fear. Isaac is Abraham’s beloved. For we cherish our fears. We hug them closely to ourselves. Our fears are our favorite excuses. Because of our fears we are exempt from taking those risks that would take us to an unknown land that only God can show us.

Why do we fail to act out of our most generous impulses? Why, as individuals and as a society, do we ignore the poor or make choices that withhold and restrict the possibilities of living rather than supporting or sustaining them? All too often it is because our loving impulses, our Hesed is overcome by fear and discriminatory attitudes. Pahad conquers Hesed. How do we overcome that conquest? By sacrificing Fear on the altar of a higher purpose. We must be willing to walk our fears up the mountain and lead them to the altar to be bound and sacrificed.

Thus, for the Zohar, Abraham’s great test was to sacrifice his own Fear – his most beloved fear – his Isaac – for the sake of fulfilling his real destiny. Whenever we are called to give of ourselves wholeheartedly we are Abraham. Whatever stops us from going ahead, whatever fear scares us off the path is our Isaac. But if we are willing to master our fears in the name of love, then we can turn our fear into laughter – Yitzhaq.

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