Parashat Chayyei Sarah

Last week’s Torah portion ended with the Akeida, the binding of Isaac. Then immediately following we read about the death of Sarah. Our Sages teach that there is a direct connection between these two events.

The Akeida is often read as concluding successfully. However, what is not often discussed is its immediate affect on Abraham and Isaac. Apparently, the event was so traumatic for both them (in each their own way) that following we read that Abraham returned from the mountain alone (Gen 22:19).

Upon seeing Abraham returning alone, we are taught that Sarah assumed the worst, and died. The Torah states that Sarah was already 127 years old, and the Sages suggest that the thought of losing Isaac was just too much for her. Abraham returned alone with his servants and found his wife dead and mourned for her (Gen 23:2b).

Of course this is speculation, but assuming for a moment it could have happened this way, why did Sarah die?

This question left our Sages scratching their heads. Did Sarah not trust G-d to bring Isaac back? Did she not trust Abraham? Targum Jonathan, an early Aramaic paraphrase and commentary on the Torah, even suggests that Satan told Sarah that Abraham actually slaughtered Isaac, and that she cried out in grief and fell down dead.

Either way, according to this perspective, she did not fully wait to hear any news from Abraham himself. She assumed the worse!

How often do we do the same thing? It does not matter how many miracles we have witnessed, how many blessings we have experienced, or the promises we have been told. When things begin to go sour we often assume the worst. Instead of trusting G-d we begin blaming Him before even waiting to find out any news.

We don’t exactly know why Sarah died. But we do know that worrying and thinking negatively do not help any situation. That is why we are encouraged to “be anxious for nothing” (Phil 4:6). And when we do find ourselves sinking in despair, we must take those thoughts captive (2 Cor 10:5) and focus on what we know to be true. For in Torah, and through the Living Torah, we have the ability to understand fully who we really are, what’s in store, and what G-d expects from us.

"At the very outset I make my honest and public confession, the result of earnest thought and inward struggle, that it is my steadfast, unalterable conviction ... Yes, as a Rabbi grown grey in office, as an old Jew faithful to the Law, I confess candidly, Jesus is the predicted Messiah of Israel ... for whom we long, and for whose Advent our people have ever expected. He is come! This is now my shout of rejoicing, which my lips and pen, and, if G-d wills, my prolonged life shall serve to make known."

"Everything that is born, dies. We acknowledge our mortality, but should we give it much thought? The Spanish philosopher de Unamuno wrote that the syllogism that used to be taught in logic classes — Socrates is a man; all men are mortal; therefore Socrates is mortal — sounds very different when rendered: I am a man; all men are mortal; therefore I will die.

Spinoza wrote that a wise man thinks of nothing less than death. Very different is the advice of Freud, "we recall the old proverb, if you want to preserve peace, arm for war. Well, if you want to endure life, prepare for death."

Judaism demands attention to this world, yet keeps us aware of our eventual fate. We are continually reminded that we are fleeting, that our lives are like the wind that blows, like the flower that fades. On Yom Kippur we dressed in white, reminiscent of the shrouds in which we will be buried. Judaism asks us to grasp both ends: we know we will die, and therefore should treasure life. Our time is given vividness and urgency by being limited. Love is more precious knowing the sun will set."

-Rabbi David Wolpe, from his weekly "Off the Pulpit"

"Man has been created by God in order that he may finish what God has deliberately left unfinished. Not that God needs the help of His creatures, but it is His love which causes Him to impart His own Nature to the work of His hands, in order than man should have the privilege and joy of becoming His fellow-worker in this world, in natural as well as in spiritual life.

Moreover, in a certain sense God does need men, in order to exercise His kingship. A king needs a people that accept his rule voluntarily. God, by virtue of His character, needs a being to whom He can reveal Himself, whom He can love, and through whom He can shed abroad His light and life.

The ultimate issues of this truth are of the most vital and cosmic significance, for God Himself is affected by our life."

The Torah relates the story of the six days of creation in order to refute other theories that claim that the universe came into being through some cosmic accident or coincidence. As such, the story of creation speaks only in general terms to illustrate that nothing came into being except at G-d's command. The Hebrew word, bara, emphasizes this. The word bara, used here for “create,” grammatically can only be used in connection to G-d (never for humans), and alludes to the creation of something from nothing.

The Torah's narrative of creation is meant to directly establish G-d as the sovereign of the universe. Unlike other creation accounts circulating around the Ancient Near East, the Biblical account makes no attempt to explain the origins of G-d, or try to persuade the listener of G-d's existence. The existence of God is an axiomatic fact. Therefore it immediately jumps to the explanation of G-d's creation of heaven and earth.

In verse three, G-d says “'Let there be light': and there was light.” If the sun and moon were not created until the fourth day of creation (see 1:14-19), what is the “light” that is being spoken of here?

Interestingly there are two answers:

A medieval rabbinic anthology commenting on this verse states:

The pre-existence of Messiah, and his presence at creation has been discussed widely among many Jewish writers throughout history. According to Midrash HaGadol, “The final goal of humanity is to attain the state of the days of Mashiach; therefore the name of Mashiach had to be formulated even before the world's inception (Midrash HaGadol, 1:1).”

According to the Talmud:

The light, which the rabbis speak of as alluding to the Messiah, is also a representation of the “Ein Sof,” the hidden aspect of G-d. Midrashic legend teaches that this light is hidden until the time of the Messianic Age, after which it will be once more revealed. When this happens, it will be like in Revelation (Rev. 21:22-23, 22:5, etc.), where there will no longer be any need of the sun, for G-d's “Ein Sof,” His presence, will provide all needed light.

The entire New Testament echoes this thought as well. However, no where is the Messiah more clearly connected to the themes of light and creation than in the book of John:

“In the beginning was the Word,

and the Word was with G-d, and the Word was G-d.

He was with G-d in the beginning.

All things came to be through him,

and without him nothing made had being.

In him was life, and the life was the light of mankind.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has not suppressed it

…The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us,

and we saw his Sh’khinah,

the Sh’khinah of the father’s only Son,

full of grace and truth.”

John 1:1-5, 14

May our divine Messiah, Yeshua, who was present at creation, continue to work in each of our lives to dispel the darkness, and make each of us into a new creation!