Jewish tradition certainly has something to say about that, especially when it comes to the story of Abraham and his monumental tests of faith.
Let's dive into Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis. Specifically, we're looking at section 39, which grapples with the famous phrase "Lekh Lekha" (לך לך) – "Go you." God uses this phrase twice with Abraham: first, when commanding him to leave his home, and later when instructing him to sacrifice Isaac. Rabbi Levi poses a fascinating question: which command was more precious to God?
He suggests the second instance, the command to go to the land of Moriah for the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac, was the more beloved. Why? Because in the second command, God reveals the destination – offering Abraham some clarity, albeit a terrifying one.
But the story doesn't end there. Rabbi Yoḥanan offers another perspective on the initial "Lekh Lekha," "Go you, from your land, from your birthplace, and from your father’s house." Rabbi Yoḥanan breaks it down: "your land" means your district; "your birthplace" refers to your neighborhood; and "your father's house" signifies your father's household. Notice anything missing? God doesn't immediately reveal where Abraham is supposed to go!
Why the secrecy? Rabbi Yoḥanan argues it’s "to make it more endearing to him, and to give him a reward for each and every stride.” Think about that. Every step Abraham takes in obedience, in faith, before knowing the destination, earns him additional merit. The uncertainty, the trust, that's where the real value lies.
This idea resonates with another story, also involving Abraham and sacrifice. Remember when God tells Abraham, "Take your son, your only one"? Abraham, ever the arguer with good intent, responds, "This one is the 'only one' to his mother, and that one is the 'only one' to his mother," referring to both Isaac and Ishmael. Then God clarifies, “Whom you love.” Abraham retorts, essentially asking if there are limits to a father’s love for all his sons. Finally, God says, "Isaac."
But even then, God doesn’t immediately reveal the full plan. As with the initial "Lekh Lekha," there's a delay. Why? Again, "It was to make it more endearing to him, and to give him a reward for each and every statement." Each question, each moment of internal struggle and ultimate obedience, amplifies Abraham's merit.
Rav Huna, in the name of Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili, beautifully encapsulates this concept: "The Holy One blessed be He withholds [information at first] and keeps the eyes of the righteous directed toward Him, and only then does he reveal to them the particulars of the matter."
He then gives a series of examples: "to the land that I will show you"; "upon one of the mountains that I will say to you"; "proclaim the proclamation that I speak to you"; "Go out to the valley and I will speak to you there." In each case, there's an initial vagueness, a call to trust and action before complete understanding.
What does this mean for us? Perhaps it suggests that true faith isn't about having all the answers upfront. It's about taking that first step, even when the path ahead is shrouded in mist. It's about finding meaning and reward in the journey itself, trusting that the destination, when revealed, will be all the more meaningful because of the steps we took in faith. Maybe, just maybe, the withholding is not a test of obedience, but an act of love. A way to make the journey more rewarding.