Isaac. Where is Isaac?
Most often,
when we read and study this week’s Torah portion, Vayera, our focus falls squarely on Isaac’s father, Abraham. Abraham’s eager hospitality; his (and
Sarah’s) news of impending parenthood in old age; Abraham’s willingness to
argue with God over the fate of the residents of Sodom and Gemorrah; and
finally, at the end of the portion, Abraham’s being called up to sacrifice his
beloved son. Despite Isaac being a
central figure in the narrative of the Akeidah,
the story of the binding of Isaac, he is silenced by the text.
Soon, the
focus will be almost entirely on Isaac’s sons, Jacob and Esau. Their story, too, we know well. We know how they competed for blessing and
about their separate journeys. We know
even more about Jacob: his work, his love affairs, his brood of sons, his
struggle with God. But, where is Isaac? What
do we know of Isaac?
Born to
elderly parents, we know little about his life other than his brother was sent
away, and that he was, without being given an option, bound up to be offered as
a sacrifice on Mount Moriah by his father.
He isn’t treated much better by his own son who, at his mother’s bequest, tricks
Isaac into giving him his brother’s blessing. Isaac is, for the most part, through all of
this a silent character. He isn’t even
deemed capable of finding his own wife. A
servant is brought in to the narrative for that task. Our
Rabbinic tradition, too, isn’t so kind to Isaac, either. For sure, his place among the patriarchs is assured by
tradition, and he is viewed as a critical link between the generations. But Maimonides' opinion is reflective of much
of the literature. He notes that “there
would seem to be no benefit nor any great honor to Isaac.” He didn’t do anything, Maimonides argues, he
added nothing innovative or of value.
With all due
respect to the RAMBAM, I’d argue differently.
I’d argue we’ve let Isaac down.
What does Isaac have to say after his father kills the ram and finally
unties the binds that held him into place?
Abraham offers the ram in place of his son Isaac, God
blesses Abraham for his steadfast faith with a promise that his descendants
will be as numerous as the stars above and the sands of the shore. God
promises Abraham that all the nations of the earth shall be blessed through him;
and then, the text reads: “Abraham returned to his servants; they got up
and traveled to and settled in Be’er Sheva.”
The text begs the question, where
is Isaac, and we have failed to provide a compelling answer. The biblical
authors, our Rabbinic sages, and we too, have left him silent. His story could have been fleshed out in a
manner that allowed Isaac to be strengthened by the capacity to survive this
traumatic event. Instead, we’ve ignored his voice. We do not hear from Isaac again until the end of two eventful chapters, when he reappears to witness his future wife, Rebecca,
approaching on a camel. The Midrash imagines Isaac as having great concern for his mother’s well being,
but where is the concern for Isaac himself?
There is great opportunity to fill in
Isaac’s story, to give him a legacy from which we can draw inspiration. He is a figure that survives trauma and
disappointment. He is a character that
deserves more of a voice than he is given by our tradition. As we read Vayeira this Shabbat, let us be moved to consider what Isaac would
have said in response to God’s impossible request. To his father’s dutiful (yet, thoughtless) willingness to comply. Perhaps if we can imagine Isaac’s response,
his coping strategies, how he moved forward from this tragic event, then perhaps,
we will be less likely to silence those who experience trauma in our world. Perhaps, we will be less likely to ignore
their voice.
