Our ancestors felt it too. to a fascinating little piece from Vayikra Rabbah, a Midrashic collection that unpacks the book of Leviticus. This particular section grapples with a powerful moment of divine promise and human sacrifice.
It all starts with the phrase "in the seventh month." Rabbi Berekhya, in his wisdom, calls this the "month of the oath." Why? Because, he says, it's when God swore an oath to Abraham, our patriarch. We find this oath in Genesis 22:16: "I have taken an oath by Myself, the utterance of the Lord." But wait a minute... why was an oath even necessary?
Rav Beivai bar Abaye, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, gives us the inside scoop. Picture Abraham standing before God, pouring out his heart. He reminds God that when asked to sacrifice Isaac, his beloved son, he had every reason to argue. "Yesterday," he could have said, "You promised me that my lineage would continue through Isaac! How can you now ask me to offer him as a burnt offering?"
He had the ultimate "but, God!" prepared.
But Abraham, in his profound faith, suppressed his doubts. He became, as the Psalmist says, "like one who is deaf, who does not hear; like a mute who does not open his mouth" (Psalms 38:14). He obeyed, even when it defied all logic and reason.
And here's where it gets really powerful. Abraham then pleads with God: "When Isaac's descendants—that's us!—stumble and fall, when we engage in transgressions and wicked deeds, remember the Akedah, the binding of Isaac." Remember Abraham's willingness to sacrifice everything. "Rise from the throne of justice to the throne of mercy," he begs. "Be filled with compassion. Transform the attribute of judgment into the attribute of mercy on their behalf."
And when should God remember this? In the seventh month. Abraham, facing the ultimate test, doesn't just blindly obey. He uses the moment to advocate for us, his descendants. He understands our imperfections, our inevitable failings. And he pleads for mercy on our behalf. He's not asking for a free pass, but for compassion, for a chance to learn and grow. The Akedah isn't just a story of sacrifice; it's a plea for divine grace. It's a reminder that even when we mess up, we have an advocate, a patriarch who saw our potential and pleaded for our redemption.
So, the next time you feel like you're facing the consequences of your actions, remember the seventh month, the month of the oath. Remember Abraham's sacrifice and his plea for mercy. And remember that even in the face of judgment, there is always the possibility of compassion. Isn't that a comforting thought?