Parashat vayera ends with the puzzling tale of the akedah, the binding of Isaac. After God commands him to sacrifice his son, Abraham journeys to Mount Moriah to comply. However, when a Divine messenger interrupts Abraham and orders him to stop, Abraham sacrifices a ram in the place of his son, cementing the akedah as a tale in opposition to child sacrifice, similar to the law of Deuteronomy, which condemns human sacrifice as an abhorrence.

However, one familiar with the Book of Judges cannot read the Binding of Isaac without recalling the tale of Jephthah, who vows to sacrifice the first thing to greet him at home in exchange for victory over the Ammonites. Unfortunately, his daughter, rather than an animal, is the first to greet him following his victory. Jephthah laments their poor fortune, but both he and his daughter agree that a pledge to God must be fulfilled. Therefore, she asks her father for two months to prepare. Afterwards, Jephthah fulfills his vow, and the community adopts an annual custom of mourning his daughter.

At first glance, one might decry Jephthah’s behavior as a transgression of the law presented in Deuteronomy. However, both he and his daughter deem it the appropriate, God-fearing reaction to his vow. Meanwhile, no one steps in to prevent the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter. They simply mourn her, as if her demise was a necessary result of her father’s rash vow.

Meanwhile, other parts of the Tanakh appear to suggest that human sacrifice represented an early element of Israelite tradition. One verse in Exodus demands that families give their firstborn sons to God, while the prophet Ezekiel states that God prescribed, “statutes that were not good, laws through which they could not live. Thus I defiled them through the gifts of everything that breached the womb, so that I might desolate them, so that they will know that I am Adonai.” Several additional instances of human sacrifice within the second Book of Kings illustrate that the practice represented a serious, even if deplorable, element of ancient Israelite tradition.

The akedah, then, represents part of an audacious reform, meant to abolish an abhorrent ancient practice from Israelite norms. Combined with the laws introduced in Deuteronomy, the akedah reminds us that even the most deplorable practices—such as those demanding that others should be sacrificed for our benefit—can evolve into meaningful traditions that celebrate and uphold the value of human life and dignity.

—Rabbi Josh Knobel