For millennia, the story of Abraham binding his son Isaac—known in the Jewish tradition as the Akedah—has stood as one of the most sublime and deeply troubling narratives in scripture. We often read Genesis 22 as the ultimate test of devotion, a story where blind obedience rightly triumphs over human ethics, but does this traditional reading overlook the profound trauma and the actual climax of the event? A fascinating new interview over at the Latter-day Saint history blog, From the Desk, features Jewish scholar Aaron Koller, author of Unbinding Isaac, who challenges our standard assumptions by reading the story not as a suspension of ethics, but as a divine rejection of human sacrifice that invites us to approach our scriptural heroes with “pious irreverence.”

What Is the Meaning of the Akedah in Genesis 22?

At “Eyes’ Height”

Latter-day Saints often read the patriarchs hagiographically, viewing them as nearly flawless models of obedience whose every action is meant to be praised. Koller introduces a vibrant Jewish tradition of reading these figures be-govah ‘enayim, or “at eyes’ height”—as real people who sometimes stumble. This approach allows us to ask hard questions: Was Abraham’s silence when commanded to kill Isaac actually a missed opportunity for moral courage?

Furthermore, reading them as real people allows us to grapple with the actual, textual fallout of the event. Koller notes a devastating detail often missed when we focus solely on the happy ending: the sheer relational cost of the test.

After the story of the ‘Akedah, Abraham never has another conversation with Sarah, or Isaac, or God. The narrative wants us to realize that this great act of faith comes at an almost unimaginable cost.

For Abraham, his faith cost him all the relationships that were most important to him. Tragically, the “father of many nations” appears to die alone.

Reversing Kierkegaard

The modern lens for Genesis 22 was largely shaped by the philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, who argued that true faith requires a “teleological suspension of the ethical”—meaning faith sometimes demands we do what is otherwise wrong. Koller pushes back on this, focusing instead on the angel’s intervention as the true moral center of the story.

In my own reading, I follow Kierkegaard to some extent. However, I part ways with him in our understanding of the end.

For Kierkegaard, the whole point of the story is Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, against his own ethical commitments. I think the whole point is that God steps in to say that, in fact, this is not allowed: a complete understanding of the divine will cannot demand something unethical.

By shifting the focus from the raising of the knife to the staying of the hand, Koller reframes the Akedah as a definitive, boundary-setting statement about the nature of God.

The Bilateral Covenant

Perhaps the most challenging and enriching insight for Latter-day Saint readers is Koller’s view on the nature of covenants. He points out that protesting to God isn‘t a lack of faith, but a feature of a truly covenantal relationship. He cites the biblical tradition of prophets and psalmists who passionately challenged God’s justice.

The key in all this is that it’s a protest to God about God. These are not doubts about whether God exists, but rather whether God is doing the best job possible.

The biblical concept of the covenant is, in this way, truly radical, because covenants are bilateral: we owe fealty to God, but God, in turn, owes us a great deal as well.

This perspective transforms how we read scripture, encouraging us to wrestle with God and our moral conscience rather than merely submitting in silence.

For more of Koller’s insights—including the linguistic roots of the word Akedah, how ancient Midrashic texts put words of protest into Abraham’s mouth, and the significance of Mount Moriah—head on over to the Latter-day Saint history blog, From the Desk, to read the full interview with Aaron Koller.

While you’re there, check out the updated Brigham Young page!