JNS.org – On Shabbat, we will read the Torah portion Vayera and the poignant drama of the akeidah, the binding of Isaac, which is the 10th, and most difficult, test of faith that our father Abraham had to face in life. Would he be prepared to sacrifice his beloved son Yitzchak, Isaac, on the altar of God, especially since he waited so many years for this son to be born to his wife, our matriarch, Sarah?

Why is this famous act of near-martyrdom so special? What makes Abraham and Isaac so unique? Haven’t there been many millions of Jewish martyrs throughout our long and torturous history? Only one generation ago, 6 million martyrs, including more than 1 million innocent children, were killed. And one year ago, 1,200 of our finest—young and old—were martyred by Hamas.

So why, I ask, is the near martyrdom of Abraham and Isaac so special?

There are many famous answers to this question, but I would like to share with you an unconventional answer that I believe speaks to us today and has a very relevant and personal message to us all.

This section in the Torah begins with these words: “And it came to pass after these things, and God tested Abraham.”

That’s it. I just gave you the answer. Did you get it? No? You missed it? OK, let me repeat it. “And God tested Abraham.” Did you hear the emphasis this time? God himself was testing Abraham.

What is my point? Tragically, we Jews are all too accustomed to martyrdom. We are used to giving up our lives and our children’s lives when we are threatened and attacked by our enemies, by antisemites and by the vicious villains of history. We understand that life is a battle between good and evil. In this epic confrontation, we have all too often given our very lives for our faith, for our principles, and for God so that the forces of light would vanquish the forces of darkness and evil.

So for Abraham to be called upon to give his life, or his son’s life, in a battle against, say, the mighty King Nimrod would be understandable. But here, Abraham was not being tested by Nimrod or Hitler or Hamas. Here, Abraham is facing off against God. God Himself was testing Abraham!

That the antisemite wants to take your child’s life is a reality we are, sadly, all too familiar with. But God? God is threatening my child’s life? This, we cannot come to terms with so easily.

But Abraham said nothing. Not a word. He got up early the next morning and went on this mission with total faith in God. He did not demand any answers to the many questions he could have asked.

The unique test of Abraham was whether he would become disillusioned by the clear contradiction in God’s own words.

“Hey God! One minute, you tell me you are giving me a crown prince and that he will be my heir and the next link in the founding fathers of the Jewish people, and the next minute, you’re telling me to sacrifice him? And he hasn’t yet married or fathered any children. I don’t get it, God.”

Abraham could have said that, but he didn’t. He never wavered. Not for a moment. And that is part of his immortality. That is why his sacrifice remains unique, even after millions and millions of heroic acts of Jewish martyrdom throughout the generations.

God was testing Abraham. Not the antisemite. Not Hamas. God. And Abraham passed the test with flying colors.

Disillusionment is a very big test in life, especially if it comes from an unexpected source—like God.

We are often faced with tests of disillusionment, and not only for the big events, like the Holocaust or Oct. 7.

I can understand why my competitor is hurting my sales. He wants to. But why is God allowing this to happen to my business? I’ve been good. I come to shul. I give tzedakah. Didn’t God promise in the Bible that if we are good to Him, He would be good to us? Why is He killing my whole business?

That is a big test. Will we allow ourselves to wallow in disillusion?

Furthermore, the word “Elokim” doesn’t only mean God, it can also mean the godly. The godly, too, can sometimes cause us to be tested.

Like the rabbi! The rabbi is supposed to be a man of God. “Well, he didn’t say good morning to me or Shabbat Shalom or wish me a chag sameach. He didn’t visit me when I was in hospital or when I had the flu.” If the rabbi did not live up to one’s expectations of a spiritual leader—to the high standards people expect of a man of God—then one can become disillusioned. Many people worldwide have left synagogues because they became disillusioned with their man of God, their rabbi.

That, too, is a test.

And then there is the most common test of all. I must have heard this one at least a thousand times!

“Rabbi, I know a guy who goes to shul 10 times a day. He prays, he shukels (shakes) up a storm, and he makes it like he is the holiest guy in town. And when it comes to business, he is a rip-off artist! A gonif (thief)! If he represents religion, I don’t want to have anything to do with it!”

You know what? Personally, I can understand people having that reaction when they see such blatant cases of shameful hypocrisy. The so-called “godly” people may be testing us again.

But to tell you the truth, I’m tired of all those old stories about religious rip-off artists. Let’s assume you are right, and that fellow is indeed a pious swindler. Good in shul and terrible at work. So what? What does that have to do with you? Just because someone else failed his tests in life, why should you fail yours?

Whether we become disillusioned by the so-called “godly” among us, who behave unethically, may well be a test of our own faith.

Every one of us has a direct relationship with God. Jews don’t need intermediaries. If so and so is a crook, that’s his problem, not mine. And if Mr. X is a hypocrite, is God not God? Is Torah, not Torah? Is Judaism, not Judaism?

Why should someone else’s behavior weaken my relationship with God? Does that release me from my obligations and responsibilities?

A Jew’s connection to God is holy, inviolate and non-negotiable, irrespective of the behavior of others, even the “godly” among us. The seeming inconsistencies in the behavior of a rabbi, chazzan, rebbetzin, gabbai or some crook who happens to dress “religious” are entirely irrelevant.

Let me end with a story. At the end of World War II, after the U.S. Army liberated the Mauthausen concentration camp, Rabbi Eliezer Silver, a well-known leader of the American rabbinate, went to help the survivors. He arranged a prayer service with all the inmates where they said Kaddish for their fallen family members and thanked God for their survival. The rabbi noticed one survivor turned his back on the prayers and wouldn’t participate, so he went over to him and invited him to join them. The man told the rabbi why he wasn’t going to pray.

“In our camp, one Jew had managed to sneak a siddur into the camp. Whenever it was safe, Jews would get in line for a chance to hold the siddur in their hands and offer a prayer. At first, I respected him greatly for that noble act of courage and sacrifice. But then I saw that the fellow with the siddur was charging for it! He would take a quarter of the people’s daily food rations as payment for his siddur. How despicable! It was then that I lost my faith and decided never to pray again. How could a Jew do such a thing?!”

The wise rabbi put his arm around the survivor and said: “So, let me ask you a question. Why do you look only at the one shameful Jew who charged his poor brothers for his siddur? Why do you not look at the dozens of holy Jews who were prepared to give up a quarter of their meager rations and risk their lives just for a moment of prayer with the siddur? Why don’t you look at them and be inspired by them?”

The survivor acknowledged that the rabbi had a point. To his credit, he turned around and joined the rabbi in the prayers. That survivor was none other than the famous Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal.

Whether our fellow Jews, even supposedly “godly” Jews, behave correctly or not, let’s make sure we still do the right thing.

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