Feldman, Yael S. Glory and Agony: Isaac’s Sacrifice and National Narrative (Stanford University Press) Glory and Agony is the first history of the shifting attitudes toward national sacrifice in Hebrew culture over the last century. Its point of departure is Zionism's preoccupation with its haunting "primal scene" of sacrifice— the near-sacrifice of Isaac, as evidenced in wide-ranging sources from the domains of literature, art, psychology, philosophy, and politics. By placing these sources in conversation with twentieth-century thinking on human sacrifice, violence, and martyrdom, this study draws a complex picture that provides multiple insights into the genesis of national sacrifice. Glory and Agony traces the birth of national sacrifice out of the ruins of religious martyrdom, exposing the sacred underside of Western secularism in Israel as elsewhere. "Feldman's study stands as a role model for investigations of biblical tropes in modern literatures. Indeed her book may be the crowning study of the binding of Isaac. One thing is certain—its readers are unlikely to ever again encounter any kind of sacrificial narrative without harking back to Feldman's observations."    —Yael Halevi-wise, Shofar: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Jewish Studies "An extremely important contribution: I know of no other study of the akedah—the Sacrifice of Isaac—that compares to this superb multidisciplinary investigation."    —Galili Shahar, Cathedra: Journal for the Study of Land-of-Israel Glory and Agony is available directly from Stanford University Press, or through Amazon at discounted rates. Click here for information on how to purchase from Amazon.com Click here for information on how to purchase directly from Stanford University Press

The Akedah is not a uniform tradition that is limited to the account in Gen 22. In the biblical story, Isaac is saved at the last minute. In contrast, many rabbinic traditions depict Isaac as killed. The portrayal of Isaac also varies from text to text, ranging from the picture of an innocent young boy who was unaware of his father’s plans for him to the picture of Isaac as Abraham’s willing accomplice who gladly volunteered for his death. Feldman’s book falls into the field of reception history. Its intended readership definitely includes biblical scholars, yet it aims at a wider audience interested in twentieth-century Jewish literature from what is now the State of Israel (henceforth Eretz Israel).

More specifically, this book belongs to the category of intertextuality that explores the conscious and intentional use of an earlier text by a later author. Feldman is interested in the Israeli authors’ deliberate use of the Akedah. For instance, Feldman often describes her work as “literary detection” and takes great pain to describe how a particular Israeli author came to be familiar with a specific interpretation of Gen 22 or a specific Second Temple period Jewish or Christian reading tradition.

Throughout her study, Feldman pays attention to psycho-analytical theory, and many of her discussions deal with Freudian understandings of the character in the Akedah. She looks at Abraham and Isaac through the lens of the Greek story of Laius and Oedipus and explores how the Akedah has been interpreted as portraying an intergenerational conflict. She also uses the terms positive and negative Oedipus in her explanations of the relationship between Isaac and Abraham. The former term would fit the active Isaac’s act of self-immolation, while the second term would describe Isaac in his role as a passive and submissive victim.

Feldman’s book falls into nine parts. Due to its complexity, it is nearly impossible to provide an overview that does justice to the book. The survey below therefore provides merely glimpses into some of the key discussions.

The introduction looks at the concept of “sacrifice.” Feldman emphasizes the lack of distinction in Hebrew, as well as in Russian (zhertva; the mother tongue of many of the early immigrants to the Land of Israel), between “victim” and “sacrifice.” This lack has contributed to the multiple traditions of and ambivalence towards the Akedah. Was Isaac the victim of Abraham’s (and God’s) scheme, or did he actively chose to sacrifice himself? From the perspective of Jewish history, is Isaac a fitting symbol of the victims of the pogroms and the Holocaust, or is he rather a symbol of those who offer themselves heroically for the sake of the motherland (i.e., the emerging modern State of Israel). Yet again, could a victim of persecution, through his passive death, be a stoic hero and martyr?

The first two chapters investigate the writings of Eretz Israel from 1904–1944. Feldman stresses that the notion of heroism and sacrifice dominated the language of the first two aliyot (1882–1918). Yet this language was more closely related to the notion of martyrdom (qiddush hashem), albeit in a new and secular form, than to the Akedah. The biblical story of Jephthah and his daughter (Judg 11:29–40) held the writers’ attention. The tension in this story between male activity and female passivity came to represent the transition from traditional Jewish passivity and a religious type of heroism to the nascent Jewish nationalism that sought to embody an active, political, and secular heroism willing to die for the motherland.

The motif of the Akedah became more important in the years leading up to and including the First World War. The prevalent image was that of Isaac as a military hero who gladly goes towards his act of sacrifice (osher aqedah), although several writers expressed their unease with this concept. This image of Isaac stems largely from the postbiblical traditions in Philo and Pseudo-Philo and the like.

The third chapter deals with the literature in the aftermath of the First World War. The connection between the Akedah and military heroism continued, and the term “sacrifice” reached its full potential, but there is a diminishing sense of “joy.” To die for one’s homeland is indeed a difficult sacrifice, even though it is freely given. There is also a prevalent notion that it is Isaac’s (rather than Abraham’s) sacrifice. It is up to the son to decide whether or not to give his life for the motherland, although the sons may ask for their fathers’ blessing. Interestingly, at this point many writers began to connect the Akedah with the Christian idea of the crucified Jesus who willingly gave up his life for others.

The generation of the Second World War and the War of Independence rewrote the Akedah yet again. In this generation of writers, a new interplay between fathers and sons came to the forefront. As Feldman points out, the “Abrahams” of this generation were the “Isaacs” of the preceding one. There was a growing focus on the father figure, and writers began to question his responsibility. Is Abraham a hero as he gives up his son, or is he a culprit as he encourages his son to give himself up? In the background of the events in Eretz Israel was, of course, the gradual awareness of the sacrifice, that is, the Holocaust, in which six million Jewish victims had been sacrificed. The differences, as well as the similarities, between the notion of a willing sacrifice (Eretz Israel) and a tragic victim (Holocaust) created a complex tension in the various authors’ appropriation of the Akedah.

The fourth to the sixth chapters discuss the changing use of the Akedah motif in the writing of the modern State of Israel. More and more authors were beginning to question the whole idea of sacrifice and martyrdom. The notion of a glorious sacrifice met its death in the aftermath of the Sinai Campaign in 1956. An increasing apprehension with the whole idea of voluntary sacrifice and the martyriological yearning of the sacrificed also became evident, as revealed in the various depictions from this time period of Jephthah’s daughter as a woman who yearns for her death.

The critical attitude toward any kind of sacrifice increased after the Six-Day War in 1967 and escalated ever further after the Yom Kippur War in 1973. More and more writers started to describe Isaac in terms of an unwilling sacrifice, indeed as a (dead) victim. Moreover, Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son was openly challenged. What kind of father would agree to kill his son? What kind of father would have the right to kill him?

At this time, the concept of the Akedah widened. A small number of female writers began using the Akedah to reflect on “private” sacrifices, such as a woman’s surrender of her own interests for the sake of her husband. Other authors incorporated the character of Ishmael, Isaac’s brother, into their writings. The Akedah thus came to take on a new meaning where the interaction between the two brothers served to comment on the escalating violence between Israelis and Palestinians. Finally, a number of writers placed the spotlight on Sarah and challenged her silence toward Abraham’s planned murder.

This book captures the reader and provides a deeply stimulating yet also demanding reading experience. First, Feldman’s author-centred approach means that the same author is discussed in multiple places in the book. Furthermore, as authors develop their thoughts over time and as their works reflect these changes, the discussion of a specific topic often moves backward and forward in time. This, in turn, makes it sometimes difficult to follow the main thread of the discussion. Second, literary and ideological development is seldom linear. An author may pick up an idea that was expressed a century ago and fuse it with another idea from a more recent period. This means that Feldman discusses the same piece of writing in several places as she seeks to establish the direction of influence between various authors and their writings.

It also means that the division between the different time periods is at times artificial, as one author may be ahead of his or her time, while another, contemporary author may hold on to and develop an earlier idea in a new direction. Finally, there is always a gap between the dominant voice of the many and the few authors who criticize it. As Feldman tends to concentrate her discussion of the latter voices, it can be hard to get a sense of the dominant opinion. Along the same lines, Feldman refuses to generalize, and she refrains from depicting an era as harboring a single, unified interpretation of the Akedah. Rather, her book testifies to the multifarious and mutually dependent yet also contrasting uses of the biblical and postbiblical traditions in any given period. Feldman’s book is both very enjoyable and highly thought provoking, and I can recommend it whole-heartedly.

Stanford University Press publishes scholarship that challenges prevailing views in the academy and society. The Press’ wide range of titles includes monographs and textbooks in the Humanities and Social Sciences, with strong concentrations in History, Literature, Philosophy, Asian Studies and Sociology. Library of Social Science Book Exhibits — recognized as the premier book exhibit company —collaborates with the Princeton University Press to promote their titles at significant, cutting-edge conferences. Library of Social Science Book Exhibits has worked with over 100 organizations, and has a track record of over 500 successful book exhibits.