Rabbi Howard Morrison

Religious faith can provide a profound relationship with God, but it can also provide a dark and dangerous other side. The same passion that motivates religious people to do great things is the same passion that can bring on death and destruction.

Take one of the most well-known and challenging narratives in the entire Torah, Akedat Yitzchak, the binding of Isaac. It is known to many of us, as it is chanted in the weekly Parsha cycle, on Rosh Hashanah, and by some Jews every morning in Birchot Ha'Shachar, the morning blessings.

In the Biblical narrative, Abraham is ready, without question, to kill in the name of God, or so it seems. Can you imagine, at least from our own modern perspective, that a father is prepared to kill his own son, one that he and Sarah longed for, in the name of God? From a contemporary perspective, the request by God and the preparedness by Abraham seem fanatic, fundamentalist, and downright, cruel. Is this the kind of religion we want to advocate and promote?

The sixth century poet, whose many passages we recite on the High Holy Days, Elazar ben Kallir wrote in the sixth century, "Abraham forgot how a father is supposed to have mercy on a son, a prayer or plea Abraham should have offered."

After Abraham picked up a knife to slay his son, the Torah states, "Then an angel of the Lord called to him (Abraham) from heaven, 'Abraham! Abraham!"

Why does the angel need to call out twice? Because the first time Abraham is so sure he knows what God wants from him that he has shut the rest of the world off. And so, the angel must call again, and this time Abraham hears and responds, "Hineni - Here I am."

If this narrative is a test for Abraham, as the opening verse suggests, then Abraham passes the test not when he listens to God and is ready to kill his son. Rather in the moment of fanaticism when he is sure he knows what God wants from him and the knife is raised ready to come down on Isaac and kill in the name of God, Abraham is ready to hear a different voice, a voice of an angel that says, "Do not raise your hand against the boy or do anything to him." That is the test Abraham passes.

In religion, as in all areas of our lives, we are entitled to even the strongest of our beliefs and opinions. But we should never be so assured of what we think, that we are not open to a different voice, a different opinion. We need PASSION wedded to COMPASSION. 

On this Shabbat, we recall many horrific tragedies which took place because passion was wedded with fanaticism and not compassion. Three come to mind:

The horrors of October 7, when evil barbarically murdered the lives of children and many others.

The horrors of Kristallnacht and the Shoah, when the road was paved for evil to brutally murder six million Jews, a million and a half of whom were children. The 87th anniversary of Kristallnacht is tomorrow.

The murder of Prime-Minister Yitzchak Rabin by a fanatical fellow Jew, which took place ironically at a rally for peace in Tel Aviv after Shabbat on Saturday night, thirty years ago, November 4, 1995.

 I remember it so vividly. I was still in shul in New York toward the end of Shabbat our time, when we learned of the tragedy which took place with a seven-hour difference Israel time. 

I remember teaching our Sunday morning Hebrew school  children the words and the melody to "Shir L'Shalom - a song for peace," which Rabin was singing when he was assassinated. On the Monday night, two nights after the horror, our students sang that song as part of a memorial service which filled our sanctuary with very little advance notice.

I remember a year later leading a shul trip to Israel during which we visited the site where Rabin was assassinated, already being called "Kikar Rabin - Rabin square" The wax of a year's worth of memorial candles was still fresh.

We would all do well to follow the interpretation of Abraham's actions which I have shared today. It is the second mention of his name by the angel of God which enables Abraham to say "Hinneni-Here I am" with a religious passion combined with compassion for human life.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Howard Morrison