Torah from Rabbi Saunders

Parshas Vayera reaches its emotional and spiritual climax with the Akeidah, the Binding of Yitzchak. It’s one of the most dramatic and perplexing episodes in the Torah. Hashem commands Avraham to sacrifice his beloved son Yitzchak, the very child through whom the Jewish nation was to emerge. Avraham, without hesitation, rises early in the morning and sets out to fulfill the Divine will.

But what exactly was the test here? Was it about blind obedience? Was it about faith? And more importantly, what does this ancient story have to do with us, living in Delray Beach in 2025, far from the windswept hills of Moriah?

The Ramban (Nachmanides) explains that the Akeidah wasn’t just a test of obedience, it was a test of Avraham’s inner resolve. Hashem already knew Avraham’s heart. The test was to actualize that potential, to bring his faith into the realm of action. It was about aligning his deepest beliefs with his most difficult choices.

Avraham’s greatness wasn’t just in his willingness to sacrifice Yitzchak, it was in his ability to silence every internal voice of doubt, every rational objection, and say, “Hineni,” Here I am, ready, present, devoted.

We may not be asked to offer our children on an altar, but we are constantly presented with our own “Akeidahs,” moments that test our commitment to Hashem in ways that challenge our comfort, our logic, or our desires.

In Delray Beach, where life can be beautiful and comfortable, our tests might look different:

Shabbat in a beach town: When the sun is shining and the ocean or golf course  is calling, do we still prioritize Shabbat, or do we let leisure take precedence over kedushah?

Community involvement: Do we step up to help build and support our shul and Jewish institutions, even when it’s easier to stay in our own bubble?

Spiritual growth: Are we willing to stretch ourselves, to learn more Torah, to daven with more kavanah, to give more tzedakah, even when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable?

These are our modern-day altars. And every time we say “Hineni,” I’m here, I’m ready, I’m committed, we echo Avraham’s greatness.

The Akeidah took place on Har HaMoriah, which would later become the site of the Beit HaMikdash, a place of ultimate sacrifice that became the epicenter of Divine presence.

Delray Beach may not be Jerusalem, but every act of mesirut nefesh, of selfless devotion to Hashem, transforms our homes, our shuls, and our community into spiritual sanctuaries. When we rise early to learn, when we welcome guests, when we choose holiness over habit, we bring the holiness of Moriah into our lives.

The Akeidah teaches us that true service of Hashem isn’t always about grand gestures, it’s about the quiet, consistent choices we make to put Hashem first. In Delray Beach, that might mean choosing a shiur over a sunset, or a mitzvah over a mimosa. But each time we do, we walk in Avraham’s footsteps, and we bring the fire of the Akeidah into our own lives.