We know the story: God commands Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son. Abraham, after a terrible internal struggle, obeys. At the last moment, an angel intervenes, and a ram is sacrificed instead. A stunning display of faith. But what happened next?
Genesis 22:15 tells us, "The angel of the Lord called to Abraham a second time from the heavens." And then the angel swears an oath: "I swear by Myself… because you have done this matter, and did not withhold your son, your only one." But why the oath? Why was it necessary?
The Midrash, specifically Bereshit Rabbah 56, delves into this very question. Abraham, according to one interpretation, basically says to God, "Hold on a minute! You almost had me sacrifice my son. I need a guarantee this won't happen again. Swear to me that you will not test me again, nor Isaac my son."
It's like a harrowing analogy offered: a man leaps across a raging river, dragging his son along. He makes it, but you can bet he'll be asking for assurances before attempting that feat again!
Rabbi Ḥama ben Rabbi Ḥanina offers another compelling analogy: a king who repeatedly marries and divorces a noblewoman after she bears him a son. After the tenth son, the children band together and plead, "Father, swear you won't divorce our mother again!" Similarly, Abraham, after enduring ten trials – the Binding of Isaac being the last and most challenging – asks for a divine promise.
Rabbi Ḥanin adds a powerful perspective. He points out the verse says, "Because you have done this matter," even though it was the tenth test. His explanation is that this final ordeal, the Akeidah – the Binding – was so significant, it equaled all the others combined. Had Abraham failed, he would have lost everything.
And what about the blessings that follow? "For that I will bless you [varekh avarekhekha] and multiply your descendants [veharba arbeh] as the stars of the heavens..." The doubling of the verbs, varekh avarekhekha and veharba arbeh, isn’t accidental. The Midrash explains this is a double blessing, one for the father, Abraham, and one for the son, Isaac. A blessing for their individual merits and their shared legacy.
The verse continues, "and your descendants will inherit the gate of their enemies." This, the Midrash tells us, refers to Tarmod, a city infamous for its hostility towards the Jewish people. Rabbi Yudan and Rabbi Ḥanina recount that Tarmod contributed significantly to the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. What a powerful promise – that even after such devastating events, Abraham's descendants will ultimately prevail over their adversaries.
But where was Isaac after the ordeal? Genesis 22:18 states, "Abraham returned to his young men," but Isaac isn't mentioned. Rabbi Berekhya, citing Babylonian sources, suggests that Abraham sent Isaac to Shem (Noah's son!) to study Torah. It’s like a woman who became wealthy through her spindle, cherishing it always. Abraham understood that his blessings stemmed from Torah and mitzvot (commandments), and he wanted that legacy to continue through his children.
Rabbi Ḥanina adds that Isaac was sent away at night, a fascinating detail. Why at night? To avoid the ayin hara, the evil eye. After such a miraculous event, Abraham feared that envy or negative energy could harm his son. This concept of the ayin hara is a recurring theme in Jewish tradition, a reminder of the power of perception and the need to protect ourselves and our loved ones from negativity.
Interestingly, the Midrash draws a parallel to Hananya, Mishael, and Azarya, who emerged unscathed from the fiery furnace in the Book of Daniel. After their miraculous survival, their names disappear from the narrative. Why? Various explanations are offered: some say they died due to divine intervention (to prevent further mockery of Israel), others that they died from the evil eye, and still others that they went to study Torah with Yehoshua ben Yehotzadak.
Rabbi Ḥanina concludes that Hananya, Mishael, and Azarya entered the furnace with the understanding that their fate would serve as a sign – either a sign of God’s power if they were saved, or a sign of unwavering loyalty even in the face of death if they were not.
So, what do we take away from this exploration of Bereshit Rabbah 56? It’s a reminder that even after moments of immense faith and sacrifice, questions linger. There's a very human need for reassurance, for guarantees, for understanding the implications of our choices. And it’s also a powerful affirmation that blessings, both material and spiritual, are often intertwined with learning, tradition, and a conscious effort to protect and nurture what we hold dear. Perhaps, the story isn't just about the test, but what comes after the test – how we rebuild, how we learn, and how we ensure a brighter future for generations to come.