Take Abraham's journey to Mount Moriah, the place where he was commanded to sacrifice his son, Isaac. It’s a story we think we know, but let’s pull back the curtain a little.
The Torah tells us that on the third day, Abraham finally saw the place God had appointed. But the midrashim, those wonderful rabbinic interpretations that fill in the gaps, give us so much more color. Imagine this: Abraham looks up and sees not just a mountain, but a pillar of fire stretching all the way from earth to the heavens, and a heavy cloud shimmering with the very glory of God.
He turns to Isaac. "My son," he asks, "do you see what I see?" And Isaac, blessed and pure, answers, "I see, and, lo, a pillar of fire and a cloud, and the glory of the Lord is seen upon the cloud." What a powerful image! Abraham knows then, in his heart, that Isaac is accepted before the Lord as a potential offering.
But the story doesn't stop there. Abraham then turns to Ishmael and Eliezer, his other companions on this fateful journey. "Do you also see what we see on the mountain?" he asks. Their answer? "We see nothing more than like the other mountains." A simple, unremarkable landscape. Nothing special.
Ouch.
Abraham understands. They aren't meant to go further. He tells them, "Abide ye here with the ass, you are like the ass--as little as it sees, so little do you see. I and Isaac my son go to yonder mount, and worship there before the Lord, and this eve we will return to you."
Did you catch that? "We will return." It’s more than just a statement of intent. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, this was an unconscious prophecy! Abraham, in that moment, prophesied that both he and Isaac would return from the mountain. A glimmer of hope in the face of unimaginable sacrifice.
So, Eliezer and Ishmael stay behind, and Abraham and Isaac continue onward, towards the mountain, towards the unknown.
What does this little detail – this difference in perception – tell us? Maybe it's about spiritual readiness. Maybe it's about the unique bond between a father and a son facing an impossible test. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that sometimes, the most profound experiences are only visible to those who are truly open to seeing them. Those who are willing to look beyond the ordinary and perceive the divine spark that’s always, always present.