We are living through exceptional times—times that future generations will one day study as a turning point in Jewish history. We are witnessing events that pierce the heart and stir the soul. Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.
On
one hand, we are surrounded by heartbreak
and horror—unspeakable atrocities committed against Am Yisrael, acts that defy comprehension. The suffering of
individuals, families, and communities has reached depths that words cannot
capture. And yet, within this darkness, something extraordinary has emerged:
the radiant light of unity. Across Israel and throughout the Jewish world, Am Yisrael has come together in a spirit
of generosity, volunteering, and love unlike anything many of us have ever
witnessed. The strength of this unity—the achdut
of the Jewish people—has become a wellspring of hope and resilience for our
nation.
Three Words That Define
Our Strength
The
Akeidah was a test of emunah that stretched the limits of
human endurance. Yet, as the Zohar
teaches, it was not only Avraham who was tested—it was also Yitzchak. And in
some ways, the test for Yitzchak was even greater. Avraham heard directly the Devar Hashem—the clear word of God. As a
prophet, he had absolute certainty of what he was commanded to do. Yitzchak,
however, did not. He heard the command only through his father. His faith was
not just in God—but in his father, in mesorah,
in the unbroken chain of transmission that defines our people. That, says the Zohar, was the moment when the foundations of Torah sheb’al Peh, the
Oral Torah, were laid. For Yitzchak’s trust in his father mirrors our trust in
the sages, in the chain of mesorah
through which we hear the word of God echoed across generations. “Vayelchu
sheneihem yachdav”—they went together: faith transmitted, unity forged,
generations bound in all eternity.
A Covenant Misplaced
But
the Akeidah has another dimension,
one that carries a painful contemporary relevance. The Torah introduces the
episode with the words, “Achar hadevarim
ha’eileh”—“After these things” (Bereishit 22:1). After which
things? The Midrash and classic
commentaries, including the Rashbam
and the Ralbag, explain that the Akeidah
followed a significant episode—Avraham’s covenant with Avimelech, the Philistine king.
Avimelech
ruled over Eretz Pelishtim, the
coastal strip of the Land of Israel—what we know today as the Gaza region. Avraham entered into a
covenant with him, promising peaceful coexistence and effectively conceding
part of the land of Israel. But, says the Rashbam, this was a mistake. The land had been promised to
Avraham’s descendants by God Himself. It was not Avraham’s to give away, even
as a gesture of diplomacy or goodwill.
The
Midrash Tanchuma teaches that
as a result, Avraham’s descendants suffered for generations. When Yehoshua
later entered the Land of Israel, he was unable to conquer the territory of Eretz Pelishtim—Ashdod, Ashkelon,
Ekron, and Gaza—because of that covenant. It remained unconquered for centuries
until the days of King David.
In
this light, the Akeidah was not only
a test of faith—it was also a form of
atonement, a painful consequence of Avraham’s earlier misjudgment. He
had trusted in a political covenant rather than in the eternal covenant of God.
A Lesson for Our
Generation
We,
too, have witnessed the tragic results of yielding parts of our land in pursuit
of peace. The withdrawal from Gush Katif and the Gaza Strip was done with hopes
of security and coexistence. Yet the bitter reality that has unfolded since
then echoes the words of our sages: Eretz
Yisrael cannot be secured through covenants with those who deny its divine
promise. The lesson of the Akeidah
is clear. The future of Am Yisrael
does not depend on treaties or fences—it depends on faith, on courage, and on
unity.
Our Test: Going Together
Just
as Avraham and Yitzchak faced their supreme trial “together”, so too must we face ours. The unprecedented unity we witnessed
over the past two years—families opening their homes to evacuees, soldiers
risking their lives for their brothers, Jews around the world giving, praying,
and standing with Israel—is the modern echo of “Vayelchu sheneihem yachdav.” Through our shared acts of kindness,
our tefillot, our mitzvot, and our
collective resolve, we are weaving the spiritual armor that protects Am Yisrael. Every mitzvah, every gesture
of solidarity, every prayer for our soldiers, for those held hostage and their
families builds unseen walls of protection—malachim
born from unity and faith.
May
the zechut of our togetherness—our
faith and our unity—bring safety to our soldiers and comfort to the bereaved.
And may the light of “Vayelchu sheneihem
yachdav” continue to guide Am Yisrael
toward redemption—together.
