Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote that the story of the binding of Isaac is meant to teach us that God owns everything, even our children. They are not ours. They’re God’s.

I’m not sure how that explains the whole, “take your son… and offer him for a burnt offering” thing in Genesis 22:2, which we read in this week’s Torah portion. But I trust Rabbi Sacks, even though I’m still unclear on why God tested Abraham.

Here’s something I do understand: Our children are most definitely not our own. From an early age, each of my children was her own person. Today they are adults, living lives separate from my own. I am proud of them, and happy for them, but their successes are their own.

And yet, I also feel deeply that we have a collective interest in each other’s children. Especially children to whom we are related in some way. When my daughters were little we lived on a cul-de-sac where there were many children. All the parents watched out for all the kids. And all the kids listened to all the parents. We were like an extended family.

Perhaps this is why I am so heartbroken about the children who were kidnapped by Hamas terrorists on October 7, although they are not my own.

I think about them every day. I wonder if someone is taking care of them, if they’re unhurt physically, and how the trauma is affecting them. Some are too young to understand. Some are just old enough to be completely confused and frightened. Some watched their parents die.

It’s not healthy for me to obsess on this. I know that. But this week, reading first about Abraham banishing his son Ishmael to die in the desert, and then holding a knife over his son Isaac’s body, I cannot forget the children who were taken by strangers to a strange place, where they do not understand the language, where everything that once was safe was taken from them.

The truth is that I am angry at Abraham for doing as God asked. I am angry that God encouraged him to take both sons to the brink of death. And I am angry at a God who, according to the Bible, made us in the Divine image and in so doing gave us the ability to hate.

These are dark times in the world. People are lashing out at each other with rockets and words. Both are wreaking destruction. I cannot help but feel an impending catastrophe.

If you’ve read any of my writings, you know that I am essentially an optimistic person. I’m waiting for my optimistic nature to return. But today, I am grieving for the children.