Another Look at Akeidat Yitzhak

courtesy of ziontimes.com

Ten years have passed since The Mercaz HaRav Massacre and seven years since I wrote how my neighbor, the father of one of the victims, touched the heartstrings of our congregation when he chanted from the Torah on the second day of Rosh Hashanah.  As the new year approaches I find myself compelled to share my memories of that reading once more.  

It is Akeidat Yitzhak that is read every year on the second day of Rosh Hashanah. Ever since I was a child I was fascinated by the story of how G-d tells Avraham to sacrifice his son, his only son, the one he loves, Yitzhak, and then just as Avraham raises his knife to slay his son on the altar, G-d commands him to stop. 

Throughout the years I have heard many lectures on Akeidat Yitzhak. At one of them the rabbi made a statement I have never forgotten. He said that parents should be as ready to sacrifice their children for Torah as Avraham was ready to sacrifice Yitzhak. Not that we should, G-d forbid, put our children on an altar and slit their throats. Rather we should do all we can to ensure our children will be able to live a Torah-true life. He brought down as an example how families in Europe would send their young sons far away to good yeshivas and often see them only once a year at Pesach. 

Here in Israel, thankfully, we don’t have to send our children far away to learn Torah. Still, for many parents it’s not easy to send their child even a half an hour away to sleep each night in a dormitory and come home only every other Shabbat.

Our neighbor and his wife sent their child to the Mercaz HaRav yeshiva high school in Jerusalem where he blossomed. And then on Rosh Chodesh Adar, March 6^th, 2008, an Arab terrorist entered the yeshiva and began shooting. Eight students were murdered and eleven physically wounded. Many, many more, all over the country, were injured emotionally. Our neighbor and his family joined the sadly growing circle of bereaved families.

Despite the grief, our neighbor agreed to be the Torah reader for much of the High Holy Days that year. On that second day of Rosh Hashanah he was chanting in his calm, melodious voice and then, suddenly, he paused. For a fraction of a second I thought that there was a problem with the Torah scroll and it would need to be replaced by another one from inside the ark.

Immediately, though, I focused on the next verse, “Avraham, Avraham, and he said, I am here and He said Do not harm the boy, nor do anything to him.”

There was a silence in the synagogue that could be felt. From above, in the women’s section, I kept my eyes downcast, afraid to look at my neighbor, unwilling to see the pain in my eyes reflected in hers.

The silence lasted several more minutes. The congregation was patient, sharing our friend’s pain. And then with a slightly quavering voice the bereaved father began reading. He paused again. Again we waited patiently, our hearts aching. And then he continued his reading with tears in his voice.

“I know now that you are one who fears G-d and have not withheld your son from me.” 

He finished the reading and I prayed, as I continue to pray now, that we will know no more murders, no more terror, no more bereaved families.

May all be sealed and signed for only good this coming year.

Growing With My Cousin, a great holiday read, is available at Jewish bookstores and on line at  http://www.feldheim.com/growing-with-my-cousin.html or

https://www.amazon.com/Growing-Cousin-Ester-Katz-Silvers/dp/194635113X/