Abraham’s journey introduced two fundamental traditions.
For nearly 2,000 years, God had seemed remote and withdrawn from humanity. Dwelling in the heavens, He rarely conversed directly with people. As humanity fell into moral decline, He responded with severe judgments. Yet, during this period, communication with the divine remained limited; there was little continuous dialogue between humankind and God in heaven.
Abraham revolutionized humanity’s relationship with their creator. Unlike previous generations, who had little direct contact with God, Abraham not only received multiple prophecies about his future but also engaged in direct conversations with Him. He prayed fervently, received oaths and promises from the divine, and even hosted God in his humble tent while he recovered from circumcision.
Abraham succeeded in transforming a distant, transcendent God into an immanent presence, making Him a tangible, direct part of human experience. Abraham established the tradition of prophecy, confirming that God speaks directly to man.
The father of monotheism also established a legacy of moral consciousness. He discerned a moral spirit embedded within nature, and assumed that there must be a moral architect to this grand machine. He recognized that God’s will was present not only in the upper cosmos but also in the moral fabric of life. With this understanding, Abraham shaped his own personality to reflect these values, becoming an agent of moral welfare for others.
Abraham ended military conflicts, negotiated peace with enemies, and settled disputes graciously. He liberated his nephew Lot from captivity, hosted anonymous travelers, and defended the sinners of Sodom. Every action was driven by ethical standards, establishing a moral tradition of behavior.
Throughout Abraham’s life, his prophetic conversations with God and his moral actions seemed aligned. Prophecy and morality were synchronous. Until they weren’t.
AT THE end of his life, Abraham received a chilling directive to sacrifice his son. Had he not already been convinced of the reliability and authenticity of previous prophecies, he could not possibly have carried out such a command.
However, the divine voice he heard was one he had come to recognize, and, as he had done countless times before, responded with “Hineni” – “Here I am,” ready to follow God’s will without hesitation. The voice he heard emanating from heaven was a familiar one.
This prophetic command directly contradicted his moral principles, though. It implied that God desired human sacrifice, a practice Abraham had long rejected as part of the pagan cultures he renounced. How could he, a father, take the life of his own child? This divine instruction tested the foundation of his moral framework.
As a deeply religious individual, Abraham accepted the prophecy. He recognized that while human morality may clash with divine command, ultimate submission to God’s will is essential. Religious faith sometimes requires overriding human moral reasoning with divine instruction.
Human understanding sometimes fails to grasp the full moral reasoning behind God’s command, and religious commitment means trusting that divine decisions are inherently moral – even when they appear incomprehensible. This is the hallmark of a devout personality, where faith and submission take precedence over personal moral judgment.
Yet despite his practical submission to divine mandate, Abraham’s approach to the Akeidah – the binding of his son for sacrifice – was not one of emotional detachment or robotic obedience. Rather, he maintained a deep, personal connection with his son throughout the ordeal. Instead of viewing the act as an impersonal command, Abraham referred to Isaac repeatedly as “his son,” never allowing himself to depersonalize his child. While his obedience to God was absolute, he refused to sever the natural, instinctive love he felt as a father.
The midrash paints a poignant picture of Abraham’s internal moral struggle during the Akeidah. Despite his willingness to submit, he prayed fervently for God to rescind the decree, unable to quell the natural love and sorrow he felt for his son. The midrash further describes Abraham crying tears of a mournful father, even though his heart was overjoyed to obey divine instructions. This emotional complexity reveals the depth of Abraham’s character: He did not abandon his human emotions or moral spirit.
Believing that prophecy and morality could, in the end, be reconciled, he also acknowledged that such reconciliation was beyond his immediate grasp. Facing this quandary and unwavering in his faith, he submitted to divine expectation, while still acknowledging the moral moment.
Back to Abraham
We stand today, like Abraham, atop the mountain, facing the delicate challenge of reconciling morality and prophecy.
After millennia of exile, we have returned to fulfill ancient prophecies in the land granted to us by God. We have acted morally both in settling this land and in striving for peace with our neighbors. We have tried repeatedly to avoid war and conflict, yet violence and war have been mercilessly and ceaselessly thrust upon us.
The baseless accusations against us – accusations of apartheid and genocide – are nothing more than venomous lies, reminiscent of the many falsehoods we have endured for over two millennia. These pervasive and toxic lies bear no semblance to reality.
Yet independent of this cacophony of lies and libels, we do face our own moral conscience. Unfortunately, our just war has caused death and suffering of innocents. Sadly, we still aren’t welcomed peacefully into our prophetic homeland by those who also live in this region. Like Abraham, we shouldn’t quiet these questions; but like him, we shouldn’t abandon prophecies simply because we can’t solve the entire moral calculus.
Like Abraham, we know that ultimately our adherence to prophecy is also a moral crusade. Our return to the Land of Israel is part of a divine prophecy meant to bring about a better world – spiritually and materially. Redemption for the Jewish people is not just a narrow, parochial aim but is designed to usher in an improved world for all.
Unfortunately, the world is still broken and unwilling to recognize or accept this prophetic vision. It struggles to comprehend the morality of our return, caught in skepticism and cynicism. But see through the confusion. Our presence in Israel is both a spiritual and a moral imperative, meant to benefit not just Israel but all of humanity.
Don’t abandon prophecy, and don’t abandon moral spirit.
Non-biblical Jews
Not only is the world uneasy, but certain Jews also remain morally unsettled.
Biblical Jews, though not classically observant, still believe in ancient prophecies and in our divine rights to the Land of Israel. They frame our return to Israel within the prophetic promises that guide it.
On the other hand, Jews who do not identify with biblical prophecies face a more difficult time justifying our presence in this land and our efforts to defend it. Without a prophetic context, the spiritual significance of the return appears more ambiguous, impeding and complicating their understanding of its legitimacy.
Their inability to view our current condition through prophetic lenses also makes antisemitism more bewildering. For a prophetic Jew, the hatred and antisemitism, while tragic and evil, are somewhat comprehensible. As we strive to fulfill ancient prophecies and return to this land, those who oppose God’s presence in this world forcefully resist us. Their opposition is not just a political stance but a spiritual conflict, intrinsically tied to the divine plan that they reject.
For those who don’t frame our return in prophetic terms, the disproportionate hatred directed toward us is baffling. Why the double standard? Why the rabid violence? Why are we the only country whose right to exist is challenged in international courts of law?
Abraham is alive, through his children. Like him, we blend prophecy and morality – even when their union isn’t immediately logical.
The writer is a rabbi at the hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with YU ordination and a master’s in English literature from CUNY. His most recent book, Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History (Mosaica Press), is available in bookstores or at www.reclaimingredemption.com.