By Rabbi Jessica Lowenthal

August 1, 2091. I’m walking up the steps to Temple Beth Shalom, my first official day. Key in hand, I open the door and here I am. Emotions washed over me- excitement, honor, a touch of nervousness. After 6 years of Rabbinical school, I have made it to my destination. I had dreamed of this position, I had put in endless hours- studying texts and theology, pastoral care, management skills. I felt like my whole life was leading up to this moment.

In many ways, the entrance into this building was an ending of one chapter of my life. But it was, of course, the beginning of another very important one. We are just beginning this journey, myself and all of you who are congregated here today. Who knows what this year will bring- or the year after that- and the year after that. 

New beginnings never come from nothing. As the song says- every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. And life is never that linear- within my chapter of Rabbinical school, I got married and had two children- all of which is a sermon for another day!

Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year- the next chapter in our calendrical cycle. Tomorrow we will read a very appropriate piece of Torah- the story of creation. But today we read something quite different- the binding of Isaac- the Akedah. 

Why did the ancient rabbi’s decide that this was the section to read on this holy day? Where does the Akedah fit within the theme of a new year, and new beginnings? 

I imagine that many people in this audience have struggled with this story at some point in their lives. Abraham- our patriarch, the first Jew, the one who was chosen and beloved by God, is told to sacrifice his son. And he does so without a word of dissent. This is the same man who argued with God over the destruction of Sodom and Gemorrah- but for his own child he says nothing?

Instead, he gets up early in the morning, packs all of the necessities, and begins the journey to sacrifice his son. 

The beginning of Isaacs end. 

Now, we know what happens- at the last moment an angel comes from heaven to halt Abraham’s raised hand before he can injure Isaac. The angel declares that God just wanted to see if Abraham would really do it- did Abraham trust, love, and fear God enough to sacrifice Isaac. He did- he passed the test. The tragedy was averted- Isaac continues his life. 

Whenever I read this story, my heart breaks at the only conversation between father and son. There is so much silence, and then as the two of them are climbing the mountain, Isaac asks his father- we have the fire and the wood, but where is the sacrifice? Abraham answers, God will provide, my son. This exchange lays bare the trauma that is about to unfold. Isaac asks this incredibly innocent and observant question, and Abraham doesn’t really have the words to answer. Of course, his answer is true- Isaac was born because of a Divine miracle, God did indeed provide him life. But I hear the quiver in Abraham’s voice, the sob waiting at the back of his throat.

After that, they are both silent. 

There are two theories about Isaac’s age when the akedah occurs. Most people think that he is a child, somewhere between 8 and 10. When he asks this question, it is the realization of a young boy. Shouldn’t there be a lamb for a sacrifice? And he accepts his father’s answer, because he trusts him. 

But there is another understanding that Isaac is actually much older. After all, Isaac is carrying the wood on his back- not a small feat. And we know that Sarah was 90 when she gave birth to him and is 127 when she dies. The Midrash links her death to this moment of the Akedah, so we know she dies soon after this scene. Therefore, Isaac is most likely about 36 years old.

Now- reread the exchange between him and Abraham with this view in mind. Isaac- a strong, young man, who has been living with his father his whole life, most likely understands what is going on. His question is not innocent- it is leading. He knows that he is the sacrifice, he knows that his father is planning to end his life. 

He wants his father to say it outloud. 

Abraham can’t.

Language is powerful. It is through language that God created the world. Before something is said outloud, it is only a thought, an intention. It can be changed, or diverted, and no one would know the original plan. Once it is said- it becomes real. Even if it changes later, those who heard, know. Once it is said- we can’t deny it. 

Abraham can’t bring himself to answer Isaac because he can’t admit to himself what he is about to do. He silently goes through the motions, setting up the alter, binding his son, raising his hand to slay him. Isaac, however, is silent for a different reason. He accepted his fate when they were climbing the mountain. He allows himself to be bound, he doesn’t protest or weep when his father is inches away from his heart. His silence says so much.

I find myself wondering about their relationship. Does Isaac, the adult, trust his father and his father’s relationship with God? Does he allow himself to be sacrificed because he, too, believes in following God’s commandments? Or is their relationship broken? Does he go along with the sacrifice to spite his father? Does he know that this will ruin Abraham?

Each year I struggle with these questions, and each year I come to slightly different conclusions. Sometimes I hear love in Isaac’s question, sometimes I hear hatred. No matter what, this is a new chapter. It is the end of one phase of their relationship and the beginning of another. Even if both men were willing participants, the fact that Abraham was ready to kill his son changes their future. 

Never again do they speak to each other. They do not come down from the mountain together- Abraham alone returns with his servants. Isaac went somewhere else, and seems to have settled down east of Abraham’s tent. Regardless of their preexisting relationship, Abraham and Isaac were traumatized by the akedah. This new chapter, this new beginning, is a darker one, informed by the difficult reality that sometimes we make decisions and we must live with the consequences. 

Maybe Abraham was right in his actions, maybe he was wrong. But he decided to obey the commandment from God, and his life was forever altered. 

We have all made decisions that have unintended consequences. Sometimes those are good. For example, when I decided to get a dog 10 years ago, I never imagined I would meet my future husband at the dog park. An unintended, but very happy, consequence. But sometimes we think we are doing the right thing, and end up hurting someone we love. I am sure that Abraham really did believe he needed to carry out the sacrifice, that listening to God was the right thing to do. And even if Isaac decided to participate, believed in his father and believed that they should obey God, the emotional scarring that he experienced could not be overcome. 

So why do we read this on Rosh Hashanah- shouldn’t this be a day of complete joy and celebration?

The new year does not come from nothing- we are asked to seriously reflect on the year that has past. What decisions did we make whose consequences we are still navigating today? What apologies are left to say out loud? What relationships do we need to mend?

Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of the process- Yom Kippur is the end of the chapter. These two holidays are linked because we need this time to both look forwards and back, to prepare for our next steps by reflecting on our previous ones. Rosh Hashanah reminds us that each new year is connected to the last. 

In the next 10 days, may we all have the strength to look honestly at ourselves and realize what we want to work on, who we want to invite into our lives, and how we want to be perceived in this world. 

Shanah Tovah

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