Nehar Deah

Vayeira

The Story of the Akeida (the Binding of Isaac), Chaim Guri and Yehuda Amichai

The story of the binding of Isaac has long been seen as a milestone in the Jewish faith and has merited voluminous commentary and reference throughout the generations, in the various forms of Jewish works (and to a large degree in world literature in general). Within the multitude of references, we obviously find many different forms: each generation interpreted the Akeida according to the events of it's own time; each commentator, expounder and creator dealt with the Akeida according to his understanding, needs and the message he wished to impart to those he was addressing. Gaps in the text as it appears in the Torah (Bereishit 22) were filled-in in many different ways, until they even caused this form of commentary to "rewrite" the entire story, often casting a completely different and often surprising light on the story. The extent of this phenomenon is remarkable, and it seems that it does not have a parallel in any other biblical story in terms of its wide and varied reference throughout history.

Jewish tradition does not see this story as an isolated one, but rather as a key to understand its fate, especially in times of crisis and threats to its existence. In times of forced conversions and destruction of Jewish communities - e.g. the events that lead up to the Hasmonean revolt (2nd century BCE) or later during the crusades (which began in the year 1096) - it is seen as a prototype for Israel facing the world and it's horrors. Putting the believer to the ultimate test, Abraham's willingness to fulfill God's command and sacrifice his only son, and Isaacs's willingness - as the story has been understood since ancient times - to die as a martyr, in order to obey God's decree, have become basic examples against which generations have examined and understood the events in their lives. This they have expressed in their literary works, piyut (liturgical poetry) and prose, and in reflective and historical writings.

Modern Hebrew literature has also contributed to this profusion and in it too, the Akeidat Yitzchak, has merit wide ranging reference. The Holocaust of Eastern European Jewry on one hand, and the "living by the sword" in Israel since the beginnings of Zionism, on the other hand, gave the feeling that the Akeida was recurring in the here and now - the fathers are binding, the sons are bound or are even binding themselves. From this many Hebrew and Israeli works based on the Akeida have been created - prose, poetry, essays, drama. In the field of poetry, around which our discussion will focus, there is virtually no poet, who does not deal with the Akeida. To mention just a few greats: Yitzchak Lamdan, Uri Tzvi Greenberg, Avraham Shlonsky, T. Carmi, Zelda, David Avidan, Amir Gilboa, Chanoch Levin and Meir Wieseltier. We will briefly deal with poems by two additional poets, Yehuda Amichai and Chaim Guri.

The songs dealing with the Akeida reflect the values of Israeli society as a whole, and in particular, it's struggle for existence and the high price that has been paid for it, in blood. These songs also reflect changes, through the years, in these areas. If one can generalize, Israeli poetry used the mythos of the Akeida in a similar way to past generations. For example, the conclusion of Chaim Guri's poem, "Inheritance" (Chaim Guri - The Songs, A, Jerusalem, 5758, Pg 211):

Isaac, they say, escaped the sacrifice.
He lived many years,
With luck, till his eyes became dim.

But he bequeathed, that hour, to his offspring,
Who are born,
With a knife in their hearts.

The first thing that is apparent from this poem is the difference between Modern Hebrew poetry and that, which came before it. The entire story of the Akeida (as with many other religious symbols) has undergone a process of secularization, and it is no longer a sign of faith in a God given command, but rather a human act, coming from a nationalistic "command", decreed by history. The Akeida is described as a constant existential struggle, a relay race of knives in their hearts, a never ending cycle of Akeidot, which began with Isaac (who paradoxically does not die as a result of the Akeida) and continued with his descendants. This is a heritage, in which the Jew is not active, but rather passive, and the choice is not in his hands. This poem creates a strong feeling of an acceptance of one's fate - the fate of the entire Jewish people. The poem is written from a collective point of view and deals with the common fate of the Jewish people and its inability to escape it.

In time, with the changes in Israeli society, different voices began to be heard, voices that were not prepared to accept the Akeida type fate, and saw it as something that did not necessarily have to be, that did not have to be part of our fate, but actually as something absurd, something ridiculous, meaningless and unnecessary. This is seen in the late Yehuda Amichai's (he died 2 months before this article was written) poem, "The Real Hero of the Akeida" (from his book: "Hour of Grace", Jerusalem, 5753, Pg 21):

The real hero of the Isaac story was the ram,
Who didn't know about the conspiracy between the others,
As if he had volunteered to die instead of Isaac…
The angel went home,
Isaac went home,
Abraham and God had gone long before.
But the real hero of the Isaac story
Was the ram.

This story totally obliterates the traditional message of the Akeida story. The heroes of the story are again not Abraham and Isaac, but rather the apparently insignificant figure of the ram, to which there is very little reference in the Torah. The poem claims that the story of the Akeida is deceptive, as the preplanned and only sacrifice is the ram. The entire story is portrayed as a deception, known to everyone but the sacrifice. Amichai transforms the Akeida into a poem of protest, which can be read as a parable. The ram is the anonymous sacrifice, mute, who cannot be blame for his situation (such as the war he has been drawn into against his will), but he is the main victim thereof, while the real instigators have "gone long before" in peace and tranquility. It is a poem about the absurdity of war, the "war of the generals" in which only the simple soldier suffers. The Akeida is the basis of the poem, but in fact its various elements have been broken down and rearranged so that they lose their original meaning and only serve the purpose of the poet.

These two examples are too few to clearly represent the entire body of Hebrew poetry which relates to the biblical story dealt with here. Despite this, we can see here, the importance of this story as a basis for many works, in the last few generations, either accepting it as it is, or contradicting it to the point of disparagement. What is apparent from here is the enormous influence of the Bible in general, and specifically the Akeida, on today's Israeli society, continuing and similar to what it did throughout the generations. In the words of author Moshe Shamir: "The story of Akeidat Yitzchak is the greatest, most terrifyingly splendid and deeply meaningful of all the stories in the world. It is the story of our generation." ("Kulmus Mahir" ["The Quick Quill"], Merchavia 1960, Pg 332).

by Professor Ruth Karton-Blum
Department of Hebrew Literature

The World of the Bible - Isaac and Jephta's Daughter

Is the story of the Akeida mentioned in the Bible, other than in Bereishit? For example, do prophets or psalms hint at it? Admittedly there is only one other clear hint in the bible to this story, in one of the last books, Chronicles II (3:1), which mentions "Mount Moriah" as the place on which Solomon built the temple. The "land of Moriah" is mentioned at the beginning of the Akeida story as the land that Abraham was sent to in order to sacrifice his son (Bereishit 22:2) and the intention of the verse in Chronicles is to say that the place that the Temple was built on, is the same place that the Akeida took place. The dearth of clear mentions of this story should not lead to the hasty conclusion that it was not known to the various generations and that they did not make use of it. The Akeida has left its mark on the literary designs of quite a few biblical stories that are in away opposite to it, an image of it. One of these is the story of Jephta's daughter (Judges 11:29-40), who was sacrificed by her father, on the basis of a vow he made before he went out to battle. We will firstly point out certain similarities between the stories, which both deal with human sacrifice and with a father and his child. God says to Abraham, "take your son, your only one", and Jephta's daughter is mentioned as being the "only" on her father had. Abraham is commanded, "Raise him up as an offering", and Jephta vows, "I will raise it up as an offering." God commands Abraham to sacrifice his son on "one of the mountains", and Jephta's daughter asks her father to leave her alone for two months so that she could go mourn "on the mountains." In both stories there is a dialogue between the father and his child in which the intimate form of address, "my son" or "my daughter" is used.

These similarities are enough to give the feeling that there is a link between the two stories, a feeling felt already from the Midrash, which expounds the verse "which I commanded not, nor spoke it" (Jeremiah 19:5) as being about both Abraham and Isaac and also about Jephta and his daughter (Midrash Tanchuma, Bechukotai, 5).

But this awareness of a literary link between the two stories should bring the reader to compare them and to focus on the contradictions and differences between them. The most obvious: Abraham sets out on his journey based on a command given by God, who merely wishes to test him, while Jephta makes a vow, of his own volition, to sacrifice a human being, a vow that is absolutely not required, and should be severely disparaged. In fact, the Akeida ends positively, when God commands Abraham not to spill his son's blood, whereas in the story of Jephta's daughter, there is no godly intervention. God did not command Jephta to sacrifice his daughter and therefore will not prevent him from raising his hand against her. After the Akeida story, Abraham is blessed with a blessing of multitudinous offspring, whereas Jephta is left childless with the death of his only daughter.

It seems that the intention of the narrator, of the story in the book of Judges, is to point out the negative in the figure of Jephta and to denigrate his undesirable behavior, as part of a struggle against human sacrifice in general and the sacrifice of a son or daughter specifically (compare Devarim 18:10; Kings II 21:6). Part of this denigration lies in the comparison between Jephta and the forefather of the nation, Abraham, in the previous story of the Akeida, which did not conclude with the slaying of a child.

Medieval Literature - The Akeida in Medieval Liturgical Poetry

The religious poetical composition style of the medieval period, the piyut (liturgical poem, plural piyutim), also deals with the Akeida in an extensive series of works composed in the two major centers of the peytanim (liturgical poets), Ashkenaz (Germany) and Sepharad (Spain). It seems that the approach to the Akeida in these two centers is by and large different, and this is due to the different historical events which took place in each area.

In Spain, the Akeida was used extensively and in detail, in piyutim composed specifically for the prayer services of the Day of Atonement. Almost every piyut deals with the emotions and sensations of the heroes of the story - Abraham and Isaac. They are portrayed, firstly, as people, flesh and blood, and precisely because of this a picture is drawn of their strength of spirit and great willingness to perform the act God required of them. While the piyutim do tell of the happiness they felt when the event took place, they emphasize their crying. The description of this crying serves to intensify, to the reader, the extent of the trial faced by both father and son, but at the same time to point out their humanness. (One of these piyutim, which begins with the words "To open the gates of [God's] will", composed by Rabbi Yehuda ben Shmuel Ibn Abbas from Fes in North Africa, still today commands a central position in the prayers of Oriental Jewry.)

In Ashkenaz, the Akeida merited attention in a special form of piyutim (called Akeida) which were said during Selichot (forgiveness) prayers. Their main theme is the complete happiness felt by Isaac and his father as they walked to the place if the Akeida. Ashkenazic piyutim show both their absolute willingness to sacrifice a soul and also their feelings of joy and happiness that accompanied the act. The reason for this view of the Akeida probably comes from the Crusades, which afflicted Ashkenazi Jewry from the end of the twelfth century and onwards. The piyutim of Ashkenazic Jewry were composed with reference to the martyrdom of those murdered in the First Crusade (1096 CE) and subsequent crusades. These people personally experienced a bitter reality which necessitated expressions of a willingness to die - even to slaughter or be slaughtered - as martyrs. A father that sacrificed his son or daughter (so that they would not fall in the hands of the church and be converted), was a concept that was all too familiar to them, not just a story from the past. To glorify those who slaughtered their families or took their own lives, and in order to encourage those who remained, the peytanim compared them to the forefathers of the nation, Abraham and Isaac.

The ancient story of the Akeida, which has been seen throughout the generations as a clear example of willingness to die a martyr's death, was told in Ashkenaz in a way that matched the chain of events that swept over the peytanim in these lands and their generation. Sephardic Jews were not exposed to such persecution and crusades, and therefore the works of their peytanim depict the Akeida in a different light. It seems that each generation and each society retells the Biblical story anew according to their particular time and place, seeing the Bible as a mirror reflecting their own problems.

According to: S. Elitzur, "The Akeidat Yitzchak in tears or happiness?" Et Hada'at A (5757), Pg 15-35.