One of the most troubling passages in our Torah is found in this week’s portion, Vayera: God commands Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac.
We read this story every year on Rosh Hashanah. It appears in Chapter 22 of Genesis and begins, “Sometime afterwards, God put Abraham to the test.”
This opening phrase is intriguing. Why does it start with “sometime afterwards”? After what? The Torah doesn’t tell us.
And why would God need to test Abraham? By this point, God has been in relationship with Abraham for many years. If we assume that God is all-knowing, wouldn’t God already know the outcome of the test before it even begins? How could God ask such a thing of Abraham?
This year, of all years, I find myself asking a particularly timely question about this passage: Are the events of the past year some kind of divine test? Is God somehow trying to measure our loyalty, our commitment to our tradition and our people? For 406 days, we have been challenged as never before in most of our lifetimes. If a terrible war fought on multiple fronts weren’t enough, if we weren’t already brokenhearted over our hostages, if we weren’t battered and bruised from being used as tools in the recent most contentious election, last week we witnessed a pogrom unfold before our very eyes in Amsterdam.
My own theological understanding, imperfect as it may be, is of a transcendent God whose primary, and most extraordinary, miracle is the creation of this awe-inspiring universe filled with wonders beyond our comprehension. I don’t believe that God tests us in specific ways but rather that this universe, created by God, includes infinite possibilities—including the painful reality we are currently experiencing.
So while I don’t believe God tests us, I do believe that the challenges we are experiencing give us the opportunity to show who we are at our very core, and who we wish to be.
In the face of misinformation, we must be the ones who patiently and consistently remind the world of what Zionism truly is, of what Judaism stands for, of our place in world history, and of the values we embody. In the face of virulent and ever-spreading antisemitism, we must hold fast to hope, to one another, and to the eternal truths of our tradition. In the face of moral confusion on college campuses and social media, we must strive to be voices of reason and sanity.
The Hebrew root נסה (nasah) can also mean “to try” in the sense of “we are being tried now”. It can also mean “to attempt”. My prayer for this Shabbat is that we will have the collective strength to endure this “trying” time and that we will continue to make every attempt—no matter how long it takes or how weary we grow—to stand for justice, truth, dignity, and compassion, even in the face of lies, treachery, and cruelty.
This is the test of our lifetimes, and based on our history, given the tools of Torah and reflection at our disposal, and with the support and help of our extraordinary community, I have no doubt that we will pass it with flying colors.
— Rabbi Yoshi