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The story of Isaac’s binding (aqeda) seems to be one of the most widely discussed chapters in biblical exegesis. The chronicle of the father whose profound faith in his God almost led him to sacrifice his only son has been examined from humanistic, theological, psychological, moral, historical, literary , and philosophical standpoints. The critical tools of the literary approach perhaps provide the critic with insight and investigative means to discover new sites in this overly plowed biblical territory.1 In discussing the rhetorical and compositional layers of the story of Isaac’s binding, this chapter also demonstrates that literary devices employed in both rhetoric and composition are there not only for artistic purposes but also directly link to the foundations of the story, to ideology, theology, and psychology. R S The first rhetorical phenomenon is found in the chapter’s overture: “And it came to pass after things that God did tempt Abraham and said unto him . . . Take now thy son . . . and offer him . . . for a burnt offering” (Gen. :–). By using the expression “did tempt” (nisah), the narrator shares with the reader crucial information that was denied Abraham. Had Abraham been acquainted with the intention of the divine command to slay his son, the trial would have been emptied of its value.2  3 Abraham versus Abraham The Real Aqeda Story In the older days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see everywhere. —, “The Builders” Thus, an informational gap (which is ironic because any gap between two levels of awareness produces irony) created by the narrator occurs between Abraham and the reader from the very beginning. The reader, in contrast to Abraham, is able to follow the ensuing chronicle without fear, since he expects a happy ending to the story. The menacing features of the plot will not intimidate him. On the other hand, the narrator’s rhetorical policy of notifying the reader of the happy conclusion of the story at the very beginning seems disturbing and questionable. The rhetorical policy appears to be carried out by an implied author unaware of the rhetorical potential existing in any fictional conclusion, especially one ending a very gripping story.3 Instead of cultivating the story’s thrilling features to create a suspenseful reading process, the narrator seems to overlook the story’s most effective and promising rhetorical potential. But behind this apparent rhetorical misstep an ideological virtue emerges. While the thrilling plot of the binding story has literary merit, it also has an ideological weakness. By capturing the reader’s complete attention, the plot may divert attention from the ideological message behind it. A literary cover that is too attractive may eclipse the inner ideological lesson. Thus, once the reader is freed from worrying over the end of the story, he is capable of deciphering the ideological message—Abraham’s absolute faith and devotion to God—that emerges from the whole story. Losing some of the fictional interest enables the ideological lesson to become more obvious and consequently more effective. The seemingly faulty rhetoric is in fact an effective literary tactic, which adroitly harnesses the rhetorical layer to the ideological purpose. The second rhetorical stratagem is embedded in the divine command “and get thee in to the land of Moriah” (v. , Lech Lecha [leave, go forth]). This divine command echoes the one opening Genesis , “Get thee out of thy country . . . unto a land that I will show thee.” And again we read Lech Lecha. The repetition of the most significant components in both commands—Lech Lecha—underlines the analogy between the two commands and, consequently, reinforces the allusion. This allusion is a source of both rhetorical and ideological virtues. Although the analogy between the two commands is solid (based upon verbal resemblance and thematic similarity, i.e., extrication from homeland), it still allows a considerable discrepancy between affective connotations. The divine command in Genesis , which ordains Abraham to leave his country for a new one, carries happy connotations as the new country is the promised one—the one in which the Lord will make Abraham “a great     nation.” The command in Genesis , which ordains Abraham to leave his country and go to the Moriah country, is just the opposite. The act Abraham is compelled to commit here has the direst connotations one can imagine. The disparity in connotation between the two components of the pair of illusions produces an ironic distance that accentuates the somber...

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