September 13, 2007
1 Tishrei 5768
Three Abrahams
The Rosh Hashanah morning sermon presents a special challenge to us rabbi types. The story of Abraham’s near sacrifice of Isaac, his beloved son, is, to say the least, a difficult episode. Not to mention that thousands of years of interpretation – Jewish, Christian, and Muslim – are layered on top of this story so thick that’s it’s all we can do just to scratch the surface.
But instead of analyzing the traditional midrashim and rabbinic commentators, I decided to share with you some thoughts I’ve been having recently about this story, and how we might try to make sense of it.
My thoughts on the Aqeda, the binding of Isaac, go in three directions, each represented by one of three Abrahams.
* * *
The first Abraham I want to talk about is Avraham Avinu, Abraham the Patriarch, the Father of our Faith and the subject of this Torah portion.
He was a religious revolutionary and iconoclast, not only leaving the physical and spiritual home of his fathers but also destroying their idols before he left. Some even refer to him as the first religious zealot. Indeed, his fervent dedication to God was evident in his relocating to a new land, his circumcision of himself and his entire clan, and his steadfast adherence to God’s will. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise us, then, that Abraham would be willing to follow God’s command even to the point of slaughtering his own son, that beloved promise of the future.
Many people I’ve talked to about this story are deeply disturbed by Abraham’s compliance. How could he carry out such a barbaric and brutal act as killing his own son? Wasn’t he just a dangerous fanatic? Is this really the individual that we want to elevate and emulate as the paragon of our faith? The jarring story of the binding of Isaac is our spiritual inheritance, but is a difficult legacy.
This Abraham was ready to sacrifice his child for the sake of Faith in God.
* * *
The second Abraham I have been thinking about is Abraham Geiger.
A German scholar and rabbi, Geiger lived from 1810-1874 and can be called the father of Reform Judaism. Like many of his fellow 19th-century European Jews, Geiger was drawn to the cultural richness of his surroundings; art, music, science, history, literature, and philosophy were all flourishing, and many Jews wanted to be a part of it. And for most of them, embracing that world meant leaving behind the particularistic, tribal, superstitious world of Jewish tradition.
Geiger watched in dismay the exodus from Judaism of so many educated fellow Germans. His solution was to transform Judaism into a religion of reason, history, sophistication, and high art. He brought the critical approach of a scholar to his role as rabbi, undertaking to fashion a Judaism for the Modern Age. As one writer said, “If a practice separated a Jew from the modern, secular world, then it was a Jew's religious obligation to renounce it” (Jewish Virtual Library, “Abraham Geiger”). For Geiger, to be properly religious meant to participate in modernity, not to withdraw from it.
Like Avraham Avinu, this Abraham was also an iconoclast and a religious revolutionary. He, too, smashed the idols of his fathers, at least metaphorically. As the Jewish Encyclopedia says, Geiger demanded that the “Torah as well as the Talmud … should be studied critically and from the point of view of the historian, that of evolution, development.” Of course, Geiger’s approach inflamed more traditional segments of the Jewish community, and the resulting rift led to (among other things) what we now know as Modern Orthodoxy.
Geiger did not possess the zealous faith in God of the first Abraham. His was a steadfast faith in human reason, a devotion to modernity, and a nearly messianic trust that the spirit of the age would dissolve Anti-Semitism and usher in a new era of equality for all humanity.
This Abraham was ready to sacrifice ancient practices for the sake of Reason, Modernity, and Progress.
* * *
Turning now to the final example in our “Abrahamic trinity”, I look not to the pages of biblical or Modern Jewish history, but to the annals of the American experience: Abraham Lincoln.
Lincoln was a consummate politician and statesman, with a knack for reading and shaping public opinion. In an age when partisan rancor polarized the debate toward venomous extremes, Lincoln rose above the fray with his lofty moral vision expressed through equally lofty rhetoric.
This Abraham, like our first two, was an iconoclast and, according to some, a radical reformer. The institution of slavery was so ingrained in the culture and economy of the nation that the Founding Fathers had not conceived of a way to get rid of it, and the country was willing to go to war over it. But Lincoln’s steadfast devotion to the ideals embodied in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution led him to devise an end to the inhumane practice. He acted not with aggression or fear-mongering, but through carefully reasoned, morally sound, political maneuvering. He often endured criticism from the left-wing and right-wing alike, for being too conservative or too radical. (This reminds me of the wise observation, “If both sides of the aisle are upset, you’re probably on the right track.”)
Lincoln displayed masterful leadership and devout patriotism. He rose above personal grudges and partisan animosity because he believed fervently in a higher purpose. He labored tirelessly to preserve the sanctity of the Constitution – the covenant of his fathers – and to hasten the reign of liberty and justice in our land. In the end, he died for his cause.
This Abraham was ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of Union, Democracy, and Liberty.
* * *
So what do these three – the Religious zealot, the scholarly reformer, the political genius – have to do with us?
The unflinching intensity of Avraham Avinu’s faith sustained the Abrahamic covenant through hundreds of generations of descendants, leaving us to bear its burden and enjoy its blessings.
The force of Abraham Geiger’s brilliant scholarship and religious criticism gave birth to the kind of Liberal Judaism from which we are descended.
And the steadfastness of Abraham Lincoln’s moral vision and political genius preserved the Union and ushered a new era of freedom for our nation.
I submit that these three – even as they themselves stand alone in their generations – represent archetypes that we all have to wrestle with as 21st-century American Jews. They are us: Jewish, Modern, American. These models have many blessings to offer, but they have darker sides, too: fanaticism, assimilation, corruption.
How will we approach the big questions in our lives, issues of meaning, holiness, and community? What measure of faith, reason, and politicking will we include in our estimation of living a good life? How will we balance our many loyalties – to God, to Jewish community, to America, to the world?
I hope that these three Abrahams may be our teachers as we look to the New Year and think about what kind of life we want to lead. May God grant us the courage and wisdom to handle the pressures pulling us in various directions in our lives, enlightening us to avoid the dangers and follow the good. And may the New Year be for each of us a year of balance, where fervent faith, critical reason, and political patriotism join together to help us choose blessing, not curse, and to affirm life for us and our children.
Shanah Tovah U’Metukah.
A sweet and good new year.
No comments:
Post a Comment