One of the things we parents
vow is to avoid repeating the negative experiences of our childhood with our
children. The other thing we parents vow is to share our positive childhood
experiences with our children. Perhaps that is why I have taken my kids to see
my favorite band. Perhaps that is why I enjoy playing golf with my son, after
all, I have many positive memories and experiences playing golf with my father
and grandfather. Among the other positive experiences, I had with my father was
walking to Shul with him on Shabbat. From the time of my Bar Mitzvah until I
was in my mid-thirties when my parents lived near their shul when I was in
their home, I walked to shul with my father. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we
didn’t. However, just walking with him was my time with my dad; not having to
share the time with my mother or sister, was a special time. As a parent, I wanted to share that with my children. Living 4 ¼ miles from shul makes walking with
my son an infrequent event. However, when the opportunity presents itself, and
my son and I can walk to shul, it is a moment that I cherish. When he was
little, I wrapped my pinkie finger and thumb around his wrist and wrapped my
hand all around his. When he was little, I whistled or felt the need to
keep him entertained while we walked to shul. Now, at fifteen, he is nearly as
tall as me, his hands are as big as mine and he put his arm around me,
sometimes protectively, sometimes just affectionately. Sometimes we speak,
sometimes we don’t. While he walks with his
eyes ahead, I catch myself looking at this maturing young man; I look at him
and I am transported to a Shabbat when I was fifteen walking with my father,
sometimes talking and sometimes not.
This Shabbat we read from
Parsha VaYeira. The narrative and adventures of Avraham the Patriarch continue.
While healing from his ritual circumcision, he fulfills the mitzvah of Hachnasat Orchim, (hospitality). He
negotiates with God and reduces the number of righteous people that must be
found in Sodom and Gomorrah in order to prevent its destruction. The narrative
of Avraham is interrupted as we read the narrative of Lot, the two Angels (the
same two that had visited Avraham at the beginning of the Parsha), the destruction of the city, and the impure relationship
that results when the survivors think that the world has been destroyed. The narrative returns to Avraham as its focus and he and his wife Sarah give birth
to a son (Yitzchak), the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael (Avraham’s firstborn son and his concubine) and the final test of his belief,
the Akeidat Yitzchak – the Offering
of Isaac.
The Akeidat Yitzchak, the Binding of Isaac, a narrative
that is considered to be among the most important if not the most important
passage in the entire Torah, encompasses 19 verses. The language is terse and
the details are sparse. So when a word or a derivative of a word appears six times
in a sparsely worded, minimally detailed narrative, perhaps the text is
teaching us something. The word YaChDaV,
or a form of of the word, such as YaChiD, or YaChiDecha (Yod, Chet,
Dalet), appears six times: 22:2, 22:6, 22:8, 22:12; 22:16; 22:19 ) Yachadav
in verses 22: 6, 22:8, and 22:19 means together, as in “they walked together”. Yachidcha, in 22:2, 22:12
and 22:16 “your only son.
The Or HaChayim (Rabbi Chaim Attar, 18th century Morroco) explains Yechidcha
–Your only (son) as tantamount to the sanctity of loving one’s own soul.
In singling out Yitzchak to Avraham, God
describes Yitzchak as Bincha – Your son (God speaking to Avraham).
However, a Ben, a son will one day become his own man. However,
God also describes Yitzchak as Yechidcha – he is your only,
that is to say, joined with and part of your soul. Yechidcha suggests there is no separation or
distinction between father and son between the soul of the father and the soul
of the son. By using the word Yachdav as a way to describe the fact that
Avraham and Yitzchak walked together, we get an idea of how they walked
together. When reading the text, we might want to ask, “What did father and son
talk about for three days?” The text
ignores the first two days of the journey and only picks up the narrative once
Avraham sees the mountain. But because the Torah uses the word YaChDav,
we know that father and son walked in harmony, united, as one soul. There would
be no reason to speak. Father and son know each other’s thoughts, they are
kindred spirits. Rashi, the 11th Century French commentator explains that they
walk together with a singular purpose.
Isaac is Avraham’s entire world and he understands Yitzchak’s pain is
his father’s pain, Yitzchak’s anxiety is his father’s anxiety, and Yitzchak’s
faith is his father’s faith. As much as Yitzchak is about to be bound to the
altar in preparation for the offering, Yitzchak and Avraham are already bound
together.
So a father and son walk together, quietly. Certainly,
each one is aware of what is before them. One will make the offering and one
will be the offering. Yet, both are bound “together” with a singular purpose. A
father and son walk together. Inevitably, the father and son glance at each
other, knowing each other role. They are so spiritually close that with each
glance they see themselves. Avraham sees what he used to be: young, idealistic,
and pure; pure enough to be an offering. Yitzchak sees an old man (the Midrash
teaches that there was no such thing as looking elderly until Avraham), who
carries the spiritual scars of numerous triumphs, tribulations, and numerous
spiritual tests. Yitzchak sees an old man girded in the armor of his faith in
God. Hopefully, when my son and I walk together to shul, he doesn’t see such an
“old man” just an “older man”. Maybe when he glances upon me he looks upon me
the same way I looked upon my dad. I
know that when I look upon him, I wistfully think of myself at fifteen, coming
into my own physically, formulating my own ideas about the world and wanting to
challenge my father. However, I am also reassured that my father was just happy
and content walking together when I was fifteen. So, I glance at my son and
hope that he understands that just how content my soul is walking with him to
shul.
Peace,
Rav Yitz
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