November 16, 2024
Author(s): Rabbi Wes Gardenswartz,
Parashat Vayera
Bound
November 16, 2024 – 15 Cheshvan 5785
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
What does Naftali Herstik, a pre-eminent cantor at the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem for 30 years, have in common with Bobby Allison, who was one of the greatest race car drivers in American history, who won 85 NASCAR races over 30 years? One is an all-time great cantor. The other is an all-time great race car driver. They both recently passed away. But they share something important in common in how they lived which speaks to one of the greatest mysteries of the Torah—the meaning of the binding of Isaac, akeidat Yitzchak, in our portion this morning.
This terrifying story is famously incomprehensible. God commands Abraham to bind his own son Isaac and offer him up as a burnt offering. How could God command such a thing? How could Abraham have been prepared to do it? Perhaps the wisest word I ever heard about this story was from Rabbi Simon Greenberg, a great teacher at the Seminary, who taught rabbinical students: don’t even try to teach this story. It makes no sense. Teach something else.
But then this summer, while in Israel, I had something of a breakthrough. I think I finally understand the meaning of the binding of Isaac. This story is about how parents and children are bound. Decisions of parents shape the lives of children. All of us are bound by our parents. Who they are, what they do, shapes who we are, what we do.
I first came to understand this in Israel as a result of the war. I have shared that my parents had a grocery store in Denver, Colorado; that their best customer was a man named Ben Zussman. Ben lived and died in the golden age of American Jewry. They had a beautiful house opposite a beautiful lake in Denver. Ben was a successful businessman who made a lot of money in burlap bags. He was also very generous. He ordered groceries he did not need to give my parents the business. He lived until a ripe old age and died surrounded by his wife, his children, and his grandchildren.
I have shared that his son Aver made Aliyah. Aver’s children were raised in Israel. One of Aver’s children had a child, Aver’s grandchild, Ben Zussman’s great grandchild, who was named Ben Zussman for his great grandfather. Famously, and tragically, Ben Zussman volunteered for combat in his IDF unit even though he had finished his combat duty shortly before October 7. He died in combat. When I thought about Ben Zussman, the great grandfather, who lived and died in peace and prosperity in Denver, and then Aver Zussman making Aliyah, and then Ben Zussman the great grandson dying in combat at the age of 22, I finally understood that that is what the akeida is about. That is what the binding is about. The decisions we make as parents shape the lives of our children and grandchildren in ways we could never anticipate, and in ways that are totally profound. That is true for Israelis who fight in Israel’s wars. But it is also true for all of us in civilian contexts.
Bobby Allison was this great NASCAR racer. 85 NASCAR victories. Historic. Unheard of. A living legend. He had two sons, Davey and Clifford. Both became racers. Like father, like sons. But it turned out tragic. Clifford died while racing in a head-on collision. Davey died while attempting to land a helicopter at the Talladega Superspeedway.
The story of Bobby Allison’s sons trying their best to follow their father’s legendary example is heartbreaking. But sometimes when children follow the example of their parents, doing so leads to great joy.
Naftali Herstik grew up in a family that had produced 12 generations of cantors. Naftali’s father Moshe was a cantor. When Naftali was a teenager, he would join his father in leading services. Father Moshe and son Naftali would do cantorial duets, on the bimah, in the middle of services. Can you believe such a thing? Have you ever heard of such a thing? Who would do such a thing? Spoiler alert: Naftali became a cantor. Naftali shined for 30 years at the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem. Naftali Herstik had two sons named Netanel and Shraga. You will never ever guess what they do for a living. I’ll give you a multiple-choice quiz. A) They work in construction. They build hotels. B) They are hedge fund managers. C) They are cantors. Answer: They are cantors. It has worked out beautifully. Netanel is a cantor in the Hamptons, Shraga is a cantor in Israel. They are both happy, happy, leading lives of meaning and purpose.
Generations are bound. Sometimes it leads to blessing. Other times to heart break. That is why the story of the binding of Isaac is so scary. Not because it is exceptional, but because in its deepest application it is universal.
Who would do what Abraham did literally? Nobody, obviously. But that misses the point of the story.
Who would do what Abraham did metaphorically? Bind our children’s future to our decisions? Who would do that? We all would. We all do. Children shaped by their parents does not only happen to race car drivers and cantors. It happens to all of us all the time.
The parent loves skiing and snowboarding. The child grows up loving skiing and snowboarding.
The parent loves math. The child grows up loving math.
The parents are bilingual. The child grows up with the infinite blessing of being bilingual.
The parent is handy. They have an area in their basement filled with tools so that they can fix stuff. The child grows up handy. Conversely, the parent who does not own a single tool, the parent who calls the handyman to change a light bulb, often has children who call the handyman to change the lightbulb.
Akeidat Yitzchak. The binding of Isaac. Our children are bound by who we are and what we do.
And yet, of course, we also know that that is not always true. Our children are their own people. They individuate. They become who they are meant to become. Sometimes children grow up to be very different from their parents. Don’t so many of us know this.
The parent who has always loved Israel and is devoted to Israel has an adult child who does not get Israel; who won’t even travel to Israel.
The parent who votes Democratic has an adult child who votes Republican, or vice versa.
The parent who is a liberal cultural Jew has an adult child who got turned on by Chabad and is now Orthodox and will now no longer eat in their parents’ kitchen and will no longer use their parents’ dishes. Mom and Dad, we’d love to do Thanksgiving with you, but can we use plastic? Plastic? In the kitchen of your youth? Where you were born and raised?
Which leads to that part of the story where Abraham is tested: va’haelohim nisah et Avraham. God tested Abraham.
What is our test?
Our test is to do our best to teach our children, and then let them be who they are meant to become. Not every cantor’s child becomes a cantor. Not every rabbi’s child becomes a rabbi. Plenty of NASCAR racers have children who want to have nothing to do with this dangerous sport. Plenty of people who grew up in America move to Israel. Plenty of people who grew up in Israel move to America. Sometimes children see their parents as an example of what to do. Other times children see their parents as an example of what not to do.
Hence our test. Can we live our truth–and let our children live theirs? Can we celebrate our own conviction and celebrate our children’s different choices at the same time? For me, the way I balance this dilemma is this question: are our children happy, healthy, and talking to us? That would be the ultimate win win. Happy, healthy, and talking to us. We would live a life we love. Our children would live a life they love. We are bound. That is the message of the akeida. We are bound. So let’s be bound in love and joy.