Some questions are difficult because we do not know the answer.
Others are harder because the answers we already have seem to contradict each other.
We believe G-d is good, yet terrible things happen. We believe prayer matters, yet some of our deepest prayers seem unanswered. We believe our lives have purpose, yet sometimes what happens to us makes no sense at all.
What do we do when what we know about G-d no longer fits what we are experiencing?
Abraham faced precisely that problem.
G-d had promised concerning Isaac: “Through Isaac shall your offspring be called” (Genesis 21:12). Everything G-d had promised Abraham—the family that would become a nation—would continue through him.
Then, in the very next chapter:
“Take your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac … and offer him there” (Genesis 22:2).
How can both statements be true?
If Isaac is to father the next generation, how can Abraham sacrifice him? How can G-d command something that appears to make His own promise impossible?
The Torah never tells us that Abraham solved the contradiction.
It tells us that he walked.
For three days Abraham travels toward Mount Moriah with Isaac. At the foot of the mountain, father and son continue alone.
Isaac notices what is missing.
“My father … here are the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the offering?” (Genesis 22:7).
Abraham answers, “G-d will provide for Himself the lamb for the offering, my son.”
And then, for the second time on their journey, the Torah tells us:
“And the two of them walked together” (Genesis 22:8).
Abraham cannot explain how G-d’s promise and G-d’s command can coexist.
But he keeps walking with G-d.
That is one of the most difficult forms of faith.
We often imagine faith as possessing answers. If we understood why something happened or where G-d was leading us, trusting Him would be easier.
But life does not always give us that clarity. There are experiences we cannot explain, prayers whose answers we cannot recognize, and losses for which no explanation would ever feel sufficient.
Faith does not require us to pretend otherwise or manufacture answers we do not have.
Abraham teaches us something harder: we can remain in relationship with G-d while carrying questions we cannot resolve.
Chassidic teaching describes a bond with G-d that reaches deeper than understanding. That does not mean abandoning reason, nor does Abraham’s story give anyone permission to commit violence in G-d’s name. This is an extraordinary encounter between G-d and Abraham—and G-d ultimately stops the sacrifice: “Do not lay your hand upon the boy” (Genesis 22:12).
A ram appears. Isaac lives. The apparent contradiction is resolved.
But that is where we must be careful.
Abraham’s story received a resolution on Mount Moriah. Ours may not. We may carry some questions for years, even for a lifetime. The lesson we take from Abraham is not that if we trust long enough, a ram will always appear.
It is what Abraham did before the ram appeared.
He walked.
Our relationship with G-d need not end where our understanding ends. There will be moments when what we believe about Him and what we experience seem impossible to reconcile. Faith does not always give us the explanation.
Sometimes it gives us the strength to continue without one.
“And the two of them walked together.”
Abraham could not see the end of the story as he climbed the mountain.
Neither can we.
But we can keep walking with G-d while carrying the question.
I wish you a good week and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yonatan Hambourger
This post has been contributed by a third party. The opinions, facts and any media content are presented solely by the author, and Atlanta Jewish Connector assumes no responsibility for them. Want to add your voice to the conversation? Publish your own post here.
