Preparation

There lived a man who, when a child, had heard the beautiful Bible story of how God tempted Abraham and how he stood the test, how he maintained his faith and, against his expectations, received his son back again. As this man grew older he read this same story with ever greater admiration; for now life had separated what had been united in the reverent simplicity of the child. And the older he grew, the more frequently his thoughts reverted to that story. His enthusiasm waxed stronger and stronger, and yet the story grew less and less clear to him. Finally he forgot everything else in thinking about it, and his soul contained but one wish, which was, to behold Abraham: and but one longing, which was, to have been witness to that event. His desire was, not to see the beautiful lands of the Orient, and not the splendor of the Promised Land, and not the reverent couple whose old age the Lord had blessed with children, and not the venerable figure of the aged patriarch, and not the god-given vigorous youth of Isaac—it would have been the same to him if the event had come to pass on some barren heath. But his wish was, to have been with Abraham on the three days' journey, when he rode with sorrow before him and with Isaac at his side. His wish was, to have been present at the moment when Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw Mount Moriah afar off; to have been present at the moment when he left his asses behind and wended his way up to the mountain alone with Isaac. For the mind of this man was busy, not with the delicate conceits of the imagination, but rather with his shuddering thought.

There was a man who, as a child, had heard the beautiful Bible story of how God tested Abraham. Abraham passed the test and kept his faith. Against his expectations, he received his son back again. As the man grew older, he read the same story with ever greater admiration. For life had now separated what had been united in the child’s simple reverence. And the older he grew, the more often his thoughts returned to the story. His enthusiasm grew stronger and stronger, yet the story became less and less clear to him. Finally, he forgot everything else as he thought about the story. His soul held only one wish: to see Abraham. He had only one longing: to have witnessed that event. He did not want to see the beautiful lands of the Orient or the splendor of the Promised Land. Nor did he want to see the reverent couple whom the Lord had blessed with children in their old age. He did not want to see the dignified figure of the aged patriarch or Isaac’s God-given youthful strength. It would have been the same to him if the event had taken place on some barren heath. But he wished he could have been with Abraham on the three-day journey. Abraham rode with sorrow before him and Isaac at his side. The man wished he could have been there when Abraham looked up and saw Mount Moriah in the distance. He wished he could have been there when Abraham left his donkeys behind and climbed the mountain alone with Isaac. For the man’s mind was occupied not with fanciful imaginings, but with the thought that made him shudder.

The man we speak of was no thinker, he felt no desire to go beyond his faith: it seemed to him the most glorious fate to be remembered as the Father of Faith, and a most enviable lot to be possessed of that faith, even if no one knew it.

The man we are speaking of was no thinker. He had no desire to go beyond his faith. To him, being remembered as the Father of Faith seemed the most glorious fate. And having that faith seemed a most enviable lot, even if no one knew he had it.

The man we speak of was no learned exegetist, he did not even understand Hebrew—who knows but a knowledge of Hebrew might have helped him to understand readily both the story and Abraham.

The man we are talking about was no expert in interpreting scripture. He did not even understand Hebrew. Who knows, perhaps knowing Hebrew might have helped him easily understand both the story and Abraham.

And God tempted Abraham and said unto him: take Isaac, thine only son, whom thou lovest and go to the land Moriah and sacrifice him there on a mountain which I shall show thee.¹

And God tested Abraham and said to him: Take Isaac, your only son, whom you love. Go to the land of Moriah and sacrifice him there on a mountain I will show you.¹

It was in the early morning, Abraham arose betimes and had his asses saddled. He departed from his tent, and Isaac with him; but Sarah looked out of the window after them until they were out of sight. Silently they rode for three days; but on the fourth morning Abraham said not a word but lifted up his eyes and beheld Mount Moriah in the distance. He left his servants behind and, leading Isaac by the hand, he approached the mountain. But Abraham said to himself: "I shall surely conceal from Isaac whither he is going." He stood still, he laid his hand on Isaac's head to bless him, and Isaac bowed down to receive his blessing. And Abraham's aspect was fatherly, his glance was mild, his speech admonishing. But Isaac understood him not, his soul would not rise to him; he embraced Abraham's knees, he besought him at his feet, he begged for his young life, for his beautiful hopes, he recalled the joy in Abraham's house when he was born, he reminded him of the sorrow and the loneliness that would be after him. Then did Abraham raise up the youth and lead him by his hand, and his words were full of consolation and admonishment. But Isaac understood him not. He ascended Mount Moriah, but Isaac understood him not. Then Abraham averted his face for a moment; but when Isaac looked again, his father's countenance was changed, his glance wild, his aspect terrible, he seized Isaac and threw him to the ground and said: "Thou foolish lad, believest thou I am thy father? An idol-worshipper am I. Believest thou it is God's command? Nay, but my pleasure." Then Isaac trembled and cried out in his fear: "God in heaven, have pity on me, God of Abraham, show mercy to me, I have no father on earth, be thou then my father!" But Abraham said softly to himself: "Father in heaven, I thank thee. Better is it that he believes me inhuman than that he should lose his faith in thee."

It was early morning. Abraham rose early and had his donkeys saddled. He left his tent with Isaac. But Sarah watched them from the window until they were out of sight. They rode in silence for three days. On the fourth morning, Abraham said nothing but looked up and saw Mount Moriah in the distance. He left his servants behind and approached the mountain, leading Isaac by the hand. But Abraham said to himself: "I will certainly keep Isaac from knowing where he is going." He stopped and laid his hand on Isaac's head to bless him. Isaac bowed to receive his blessing. Abraham looked fatherly, his gaze was gentle, and his words offered guidance and warning. But Isaac did not understand him. His soul could not reach out to Abraham. He clung to Abraham's knees and pleaded at his feet. He begged for his young life and his beautiful hopes. He recalled the joy in Abraham's house when he was born. He reminded Abraham of the sorrow and loneliness that would follow his death. Then Abraham lifted the boy up and led him by the hand. His words were full of comfort and warning. But Isaac did not understand him. Abraham climbed Mount Moriah, but Isaac did not understand him. Then Abraham turned his face away for a moment. But when Isaac looked again, his father's face had changed. His gaze was wild, and he looked terrifying. He seized Isaac, threw him to the ground, and said: "You foolish boy, do you believe I am your father? I am an idol worshipper. Do you believe God commanded this? No, I do this for my own pleasure." Then Isaac trembled and cried out in fear: "God in heaven, have pity on me. God of Abraham, show me mercy. I have no father on earth, so you be my father!" But Abraham said softly to himself: "Father in heaven, I thank you. It is better for him to believe I am inhuman than to lose his faith in you."

When the child is to be weaned, his mother blackens her breast; for it were a pity if her breast should look sweet to him when he is not to have it. Then the child believes that her breast has changed; but his mother is ever the same, her glance is full of love and as tender as ever. Happy he who needed not worse means to wean his child!

When a child is to be weaned, his mother blackens her breast. For it would be a pity if her breast looked inviting when he could no longer have it. Then the child believes her breast has changed. But his mother is still the same, and her gaze is as loving and tender as ever. Happy is the one who needed no harsher means to wean his child!

It was in the early morning. Abraham arose betimes and embraced Sarah, the bride of his old age. And Sarah kissed Isaac who had taken the shame from her—Isaac, her pride, her hope for all coming generations. Then the twain rode silently along their way, and Abraham's glance was fastened on the ground before him; until on the fourth day, when he lifted up his eyes and beheld Mount Moriah in the distance; but then his eyes again sought the ground. Without a word he put the fagots in order and bound Isaac, and without a word he unsheathed his knife. Then he beheld the ram God had chosen, and sacrificed him, and wended his way home.... From that day on Abraham, grew old. He could not forget that God had required this of him. Isaac flourished as before; but Abraham's eye was darkened, he saw happiness no more.

It was early morning. Abraham rose early and embraced Sarah, the bride of his old age. And Sarah kissed Isaac, who had taken away her shame. Isaac was her pride, her hope for all future generations. Then Abraham and Isaac rode on in silence, and Abraham kept his eyes on the ground ahead. On the fourth day, he looked up and saw Mount Moriah in the distance. But then he lowered his eyes to the ground again. Without a word, he arranged the firewood and bound Isaac. Without a word, he drew his knife. Then he saw the ram God had chosen, sacrificed the ram, and headed home.... From that day on, Abraham grew old. He could not forget that God had demanded this sacrifice of him. Isaac thrived as before. But Abraham's eyes had darkened, and he saw happiness no more.

When the child has grown and is to be weaned, his mother will in maidenly fashion conceal her breast. Then the child has a mother no longer. Happy the child who lost not his mother in any other sense!

When the child has grown and is ready to be weaned, his mother covers her breast with a young woman’s modesty. Then the child no longer has a mother. How fortunate the child who has not lost his mother in any other way!

It was in the early morning. Abraham arose betimes; he kissed Sarah, the young mother, and Sarah kissed Isaac, her joy, her delight for all times. And Abraham rode on his way, lost in thought—he was thinking of Hagar and her son whom he had driven out into the wilderness. He ascended Mount Moriah and he drew the knife.

It was early morning. Abraham rose early and kissed Sarah, the young mother. Sarah kissed Isaac, her joy and delight for all time. And Abraham rode on, lost in thought. He was thinking of Hagar and her son, whom he had driven out into the wilderness. He climbed Mount Moriah and drew the knife.

It was a calm evening when Abraham rode out alone, and he rode to Mount Moriah. There he cast himself down on his face and prayed to God to forgive him his sin in that he had been about to sacrifice his son Isaac, and in that the father had forgotten his duty toward his son. And yet oftener he rode on his lonely way, but he found no rest. He could not grasp that it was a sin that he had wanted to sacrifice to God his most precious possession, him for whom he would most gladly have died many times. But, if it was a sin, if he had not loved Isaac thus, then could he not grasp the possibility that he could be forgiven: for what sin more terrible?

It was a calm evening when Abraham rode out alone to Mount Moriah. There he fell facedown and prayed to God to forgive his sin. He had been about to sacrifice his son Isaac, and as a father he had forgotten his duty to his son. Again and again he rode alone, but he found no peace. He could not understand how wanting to sacrifice his most precious possession to God could be a sin. Isaac was the one for whom he would gladly have died many times over. But if wanting to sacrifice Isaac was a sin, if he had not loved Isaac as he should, then he could not understand how he could be forgiven. For what sin could be more terrible?

When the child is to be weaned, the mother is not without sorrow that she and her child are to be separated more and more, that the child who had first lain under her heart, and afterwards at any rate rested at her breast, is to be so near to her no more. So they sorrow together for that brief while. Happy he who kept his child so near to him and needed not to sorrow more!

When the time comes to wean her child, the mother feels sorrow as she and her child grow further apart. Her child first lay beneath her heart and later at least rested at her breast. Now the child will no longer be so close to her. So mother and child grieve together for that brief time. Happy is the man who kept his child so close and had no need for further sorrow!

It was in the early morning. All was ready for the journey in the house of Abraham. He bade farewell to Sarah; and Eliezer, his faithful servant, accompanied him along the way for a little while. They rode together in peace, Abraham and Isaac, until they came to Mount Moriah. And Abraham prepared everything for the sacrifice, calmly and mildly; but when his father turned aside in order to unsheathe his knife, Isaac saw that Abraham's left hand was knit in despair and that a trembling shook his frame—but Abraham drew forth the knife.

It was early morning. Everything in Abraham’s house was ready for the journey. He said goodbye to Sarah. Eliezer, his faithful servant, traveled with him for a little while. Abraham and Isaac rode together in peace until they reached Mount Moriah. Abraham calmly and gently prepared everything for the sacrifice. But when his father turned aside to draw his knife, Isaac saw Abraham’s left hand clenched in despair. He saw Abraham’s body trembling. But Abraham drew the knife.

Then they returned home again, and Sarah hastened to meet them; but Isaac had lost his faith. No one in all the world ever said a word about this, nor did Isaac speak to any man concerning what he had seen, and Abraham suspected not that any one had seen it.

Then they returned home, and Sarah hurried to meet them. But Isaac had lost his faith. No one in all the world ever said a word about this. Nor did Isaac tell anyone what he had seen. And Abraham had no idea that anyone had seen it.

When the child is to be weaned, his mother has the stronger food ready lest the child perish. Happy he who has in readiness this stronger food!

When a child is ready to be weaned, his mother has more substantial food ready so he won't die. Happy is the person who has this more substantial food ready!

Thus, and in many similar ways, thought the man whom I have mentioned about this event. And every time he returned, after a pilgrimage to Mount Moriah, he sank down in weariness, folding his hands and saying: "No one, in truth, was great as was Abraham, and who can understand him?"

The man I mentioned thought about this event in these and many similar ways. And every time he returned from a pilgrimage to Mount Moriah, he sank down in exhaustion. He folded his hands and said: "Truly, no one was as great as Abraham, and who can understand him?"