When we read about Abraham heading up the mountain to sacrifice his son, we aren’t given clues about Abraham’s internal thoughts, unlike when he pleads for Sodom and Gomorrah and when he pleads for Ishmael.
Abraham is silent.
I find this remarkable, not because of what it says about Abraham or about the text, but because of what it does to the reader.
With Abraham’s silence, you are forced to read it through your own experiences. The feelings that bubble up aren’t Abraham’s.
They are yours.
Do you see piousness and unquestioning obedience?
Do you see silent tears and brokenness? Hopelessness?
Do you see smoldering anger at the unfairness and injustice of it?
You are projecting. And perhaps you are supposed to.
I once heard that Torah is a mirror. What you see in it is a reflection of who you are. It reveals you.
But also, perhaps it asks you to feel and wonder. And learn.