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Abraham Was the Priest Who Held the World Together

The rabbis of Bereshit Rabbah read Abraham as a high priest who carried two beauties, served before the Temple existed, and named God as the world's own Place.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. A Priest With a Knife at His Own Body
  2. Why the Angels Wept at Moriah
  3. God Is Called the Place
  4. Standing Inside the One Who Decides

A Priest With a Knife at His Own Body

Abraham was ninety-nine years old when he took a flint blade to himself. No Temple. No altar. No altar fire. No priestly garments. Rabbi Yishmael read Psalm 110 and decided that did not matter. You are a priest forever, the verse says, and Yishmael heard it addressed to Abraham before Israel had a priesthood or a sanctuary.

If Abraham was a Kohen Gadol before the Temple existed, then the circumcision God commanded was a priestly ordination. And that raised a problem. A priest with a blemish on his ear, mouth, or heart could not approach the altar. The Torah speaks of orla, a covering or barrier, on each of these. God had told Abraham to remove coverings from the heart, the lips, the hearing. But cutting the ear or the mouth would have created a blemish, not removed one. Only the body could bear the cut and leave the priest intact. The rabbis worked through every possibility and arrived at the same answer each time. Circumcision was placed precisely where it was placed so that the man who performed it on himself could still stand before God and serve.

Why the Angels Wept at Moriah

Beauty in the rabbinic imagination is not surface. Bereshit Rabbah reads a doubled syllable in the Hebrew word for beautiful in Psalm 45:3 and hears two separate qualities. One beauty for earth, one for heaven. Abraham had both.

On earth, the Hittites called him a prince of God. They bowed in the gate and offered him the best of their burial chambers and would not take money for it. Abraham had beauty that foreign kings responded to without being able to explain why. In heaven, the angels watched him bind his son on the altar at Moriah and wept. Not from grief, the rabbis said. From recognition. They had never seen a human being offer that much without flinching. The beauty they wept for was the beauty of a man doing the hardest thing that could be asked of any father, and doing it without reserve.

God Is Called the Place

Abraham stood before God outside Sodom and began to negotiate for the city's life. The verse calls him standing before the Lord, and then uses a name for God that the rabbis had to explain. HaMakom. The Place.

Why is God called the Place? Because God is the Place of the world, but the world is not the place of God. The world does not contain God. God contains the world. Everything exists inside the divine presence, not the other way around.

Standing Inside the One Who Decides

The naming of God as Place was not a philosophical abstraction. It was the answer to the question of where you are standing when you stand before God. You are inside God. You are not approaching from outside some boundary. There is no outside. When Abraham stood at the edge of Sodom and argued for the innocent, he was standing inside the one who would decide. The conversation was happening within the same space, not across a divide between human and divine. The rabbis found this reading necessary to explain how prayer works. You are not calling out to a distant judge. You are speaking to the one who is the place where you already are.

Midrash RabbahAbrahamCovenantHamakom
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 46:5Bereshit Rabbah

What does it truly signify? And why there?

In Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, we find a fascinating discussion between Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva on this very topic. It all begins with Abraham, our patriarch. Rabbi Yishmael suggests that Abraham was essentially a Kohen Gadol, a High Priest. He draws on the verse in (Psalms 110:4), "The Lord has taken an oath and will not renounce it: You are a priest forever…," which is often interpreted as referring to Abraham.

Then comes the puzzle. God commands Abraham, "You shall circumcise the flesh of your orla" (Genesis 17:11). The orla is the foreskin, but the rabbis delve deeper. What if Abraham had to circumcise himself elsewhere?

Rabbi Yishmael wonders, if Abraham had been commanded to circumcise himself from the ear, mouth, or heart, he would have been rendered unfit to perform sacrifices. The integrity of these organs was essential for Temple service. So, from where could he become circumcised and remain fit? The answer, according to Rabbi Yishmael, is the orla of the body.

Rabbi Akiva takes a different approach. He points out that the term orla appears in connection with other body parts as well. There's an orla of the ear, as in (Jeremiah 6:10): "Behold their ear is blocked [orla]." There's an orla of the mouth, as in (Exodus 6:30), where Moses says, "I am a man of obstructed [aral] lips.” And there's an orla of the heart: "The entire house of Israel is uncircumcised of heart [arelei lev]" (Jeremiah 9:25). And, of course, the orla of the body: "An uncircumcised [arel] male" (Genesis 17:14).

God tells Abraham, "Walk before Me, and be faultless.” Rabbi Akiva argues that if Abraham were to circumcise his ear, mouth, or heart, he would not be faultless. Again, it must be the orla of the body.

Another rabbi, Mikra, adds to the discussion by referencing (Genesis 17:12): "One who is eight days old shall be circumcised among you, every male throughout your generations.” If a baby were circumcised on the ear, they couldn’t hear; if on the mouth, they couldn’t speak; if on the heart, they couldn’t think. Where could circumcision occur and still allow for full function? The answer, of course, is the orla of the body.

Finally, Rabbi Tanhuma offers a logical deduction. The Torah states, "An uncircumcised male" (Genesis 17:14). But is there such a thing as an uncircumcised female? Obviously not in the same way. So, the verse teaches us that circumcision should be performed in the place where we recognize whether someone is male or female.

So, what does this all mean? It's more than just a technical discussion. It reveals a profound understanding of the human body, its functions, and the symbolism of covenant. Circumcision isn't arbitrary. It's a deliberate act performed on a specific part of the body, signifying a commitment to God that doesn't impair our ability to hear, speak, think, or serve. It's a reminder that our entire being – body, mind, and soul – is dedicated to the divine. And maybe, just maybe, it is a way of saying that even in our imperfections, we can strive to be faultless before God.

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Bereshit Rabbah 59:5Bereshit Rabbah

It might sound surprising, but the ancient Rabbis certainly thought so!

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), specifically Bereshit Rabbah 59, explores a fascinating interpretation of (Psalm 45:3), "You are fairer than the sons of man; grace flows from your lips.." The Rabbis saw this verse as a direct reference to Abraham. But what does it mean to be "fairer"?

The Midrash goes deeper, suggesting that the word "yafyafita" – fairer – with its doubled syllable, indicates two kinds of beauty. Abraham was beautiful amongst the heavenly beings, as the verse in (Isaiah 33:7) says, "The angels cried outside." According to some interpretations, this refers to the angels weeping at the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac (as we see in Bereshit Rabbah 56:5), overwhelmed by Abraham's unwavering devotion. And he was also beautiful amongst earthly beings, a "prince of God in our midst," as (Genesis 23:6) puts it.

It doesn't stop there. The Midrash connects Abraham to Psalm 24, asking "Who will ascend the mountain of the Lord? Who will stand in His holy place?" The answer, according to this reading, is Abraham. He ascended Mount Moriah, proving his fear of God, as it says in (Genesis 22:12), "Now I know that you are God-fearing." He arose early in the morning to go to that place, echoing (Genesis 19:27) where it says vayakom, Abraham arose.

And what qualities allowed him to stand in God's holy place? "Clean of hands and pure of heart." Abraham refused to take even a thread or a shoelace from the King of Sodom (Genesis 14:22-23), demonstrating his integrity. And he challenged God Himself, saying, "Far be it from You to do something like this, to put the righteous to death along with the wicked!" (Genesis 18:25), proving the purity of his heart.

The Midrash even tackles the tricky subject of Abraham and Nimrod. "Who has not taken a soul in vain" is interpreted as referring to Nimrod's soul. According to tradition, Abraham slew Nimrod, but the Rabbis justify this act, saying it wasn't without cause; Nimrod was pursuing Abraham with murderous intent.

So, Abraham receives the blessing of the Lord, becoming a source of blessing for all. As (Genesis 12:3) states, "All the families of the earth shall be blessed in you." But who was the source of blessing for Abraham? The Holy One, blessed be He! As (Genesis 24:1) tells us, "The Lord blessed Abraham with everything."

The Midrash then expands this idea, drawing parallels with other figures. Moses was the source of miracles for Israel, but the source of miracles for Moses was God Himself. David was Israel's shepherd, but God was David's shepherd. Jerusalem is the source of light for the world, but God is the source of light for Jerusalem.

What's the takeaway here? It’s that even the most extraordinary individuals, the greatest sources of blessing and inspiration, are themselves vessels. They are channels through which God's light and goodness flow. Abraham, in all his perceived beauty and righteousness, was ultimately a evidence of the ultimate source of all blessing: the Holy One.

So, the next time you encounter a person of great influence, remember that their power stems from a source beyond themselves. And perhaps, like Abraham, we too can strive to be vessels of that divine light, bringing beauty and blessing to the world.

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Bereshit Rabbah 68:9Bereshit Rabbah

The ancient rabbis certainly did. And they found a beautiful way to express that feeling with a single word: Hamakom (המקום), "The Place," a name for God. But why "The Place"?

(Genesis 28:11) tells us, "He encountered the place and spent the night there because the sun had set; he took from the stones of the place, which he placed beneath his head, and lay down in that place.” And it's on this verse that the rabbis of Bereshit Rabbah, a classical collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis, hang this fascinating idea. “He encountered [vayifga] the place” – Rav Huna says in the name of Rabbi Ami: Why do they change the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, and call Him the Omnipresent [hamakom]? It is because He is the place [mekomo] of the world, and His world is not His place." God isn't just in the world; God is the world's place. As it says, "Behold, there is a place [makom] with Me” (Exodus 33:21) – the Holy One, blessed be He, is the place of the world, and His world is not His place." It's a subtle but profound distinction. God isn't contained within the universe like we're contained within our homes. The universe exists because of God.

Rabbi Yitzḥak takes this idea even further. "It is written: 'An abode of the God of eternity' (Deuteronomy 33:27). We do not know whether the Holy One, blessed be He, is the abode of the world, or whether the world is His abode. From what is written: 'You are an abode for us' (Psalms 90:1) – that is, the Holy One, blessed be He, is the abode of the world, but His world is not His abode." It's like asking whether a painter lives in their painting, or the painting exists because of the painter.

Rabbi Abba bar Yudan offers a vivid analogy. "This is analogous to a warrior who was riding on a horse, and his garments were flowing to both sides. The horse is secondary to the rider, but the rider is not secondary to the horse, as it is stated: 'You will ride on Your horses' (Habakkuk 3:8)." The world is the horse; God is the rider.

But there's more to "vayifga" than just encountering a place. The rabbis also connect it to prayer. The text goes on to say that vayifga means “he prayed.” They see Jacob's encounter as the origin of the evening prayer. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi even argues that the patriarchs instituted the three daily prayers: Abraham the morning prayer, Isaac the afternoon prayer (connecting it to the word lasuach [לשוח], meaning to walk or meditate, in (Genesis 24:63), and relating sicha to prayer), and Jacob the evening prayer. He connects pegia to prayer, citing verses like (Jeremiah 7:16): “You, do not raise a cry [or a prayer] on their behalf, and do not plead with [tifga] Me.”

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman adds a beautiful layer, linking these prayers to the changing times of day. In the evening, we ask to be taken from darkness to light. In the morning, we give thanks for that very transition. And in the afternoon, we pray that we might see the sun set as we saw it rise.

Finally, the Bereshit Rabbah offers another connection, tying the prayers to the daily offerings in the Temple. The morning and afternoon prayers correspond to the morning and afternoon sacrifices. Rabbi Tanḥuma even argues that the evening prayer corresponds to the parts of the sacrifices that were burned on the altar overnight.

So, what does it all mean? Maybe it's about recognizing that God isn't just "out there" somewhere. Maybe God is the very fabric of reality, the space in which everything exists. And perhaps through prayer, we're not just talking to God, but connecting with that underlying reality, that Hamakom, that Place that holds us all. Maybe that's why prayer feels like coming home.

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