Still, the story does not end here. Satan refused to concede defeat. He invented other obstacles. He turned himself into a river; Abraham chased the waves away. He then changed himself into a cloud, only to be dispersed by Abraham. Finally Satan had a brilliant idea. He would use the most dangerous weapon of all: truth. He decided to gamble, to reveal the facts, and declared: Abraham, this is what I have heard backstage, up there: ultimately the lamb will be the offering; the lamb and not Isaac. Do you hear me, old man: you have nothing to fear, neither does Isaac. Whether you continue or turn back, it will all be the same. It is nothing but a game, a simple test. So stop tormenting yourself and taking yourself for a hero.

Had Abraham believed Satan—who was, after all, telling the truth—the drama would have ended then and there. Instead he ignored Satan and proceeded with his now silent march toward that precise point where despair and faith were to meet in a fiery and senseless quest.

As always in the Midrash, these parables reflect the dramatic demands of the narrative. Through them, internal conflicts become tangible, visible.

Because we are allowed to see Satan and Isaac’s awareness of his presence, we realize more fully Abraham’s loneliness. Satan personifies the doubt Abraham had to have in order to remain human. The same is true for Isaac’s fear. Had Isaac remained blind to the end, silent and confident to the last minute, his conduct would have seemed naïve rather than innocent, childish rather than brave. One Midrash tells us that he was, in fact, thirty-seven years old at that time. At a certain point he had to understand, had to realize that the man walking next to him was acting out a role other than that of father. By becoming afraid, he became human and a child once more. One text goes so far as to insinuate that father and son walked toward Moriah hand in hand because Abraham wished to prevent Isaac from taking flight, for Isaac was afraid.

Satan himself became human. Having abused truth in vain, he lost his head. Unable to accept defeat, he set out to devise another scheme, as we shall see later. For the moment let us continue our examination of Abraham’s behavior. He refused to believe Satan—how could he be so sure that he was not wrong? And what if Satan had been telling the truth? By revealing the real future—the actual outcome—Satan had admitted that in fact he, Satan, had been the one who had demanded and obtained the sacrifice of Isaac: and what if it were not a lie? For Abraham, that was the essence of the problem, the true anguish: to die for God is conceivable; it is even conceivable, in certain extraordinary and extreme situations, that one may accept to provoke death for God. But for Satan?

Yet Abraham did not hesitate. He knew. He knew that between divine tests and the others, there is a difference both in substance and form; certain signs are unmistakable. Satan aims to make things easier, God does not. It was enough for Abraham to ask himself which would be the easier way. Surely it would be easier to go back home with a light heart and a good conscience, and reassure Sarah, who certainly would be worrying by now. Therefore, he had to do the opposite. He continued his march without as much as a glance backward. It definitely was a deliberate choice; the Midrash stresses that point by explaining why the march lasted three days. So that people would not say that father and son had acted in a state of shock.