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Practical Spiritual Insights from Parshah Chayei Sarah^[1]

Bereishit Genesis (Genesis 23:1-25:18)

Sarah’s lifetime—the span of Sarah’s life—came to one hundred and twenty-seven years. (23:1)

Paradoxically, the Torah section entitled Chayei Sarah (“The Life of Sarah”) deals entirely with events that occurred after Sarah’s death.[2]

Why does the Torah split up the tally of her years into three parts (“one hundred years,” “twenty years” and “seven years”)? To tell us that every day of her life was the equivalent of them all. At the age of one hundred years she was like age twenty in strength, and at age twenty she was like age seven in modesty and purity; at age seven she was like age twenty in intelligence, and at age twenty she was like age one hundred in righteousness … (Midrash HaGadol)[3]

Sarah experienced many hardships and challenges, but they were not her life, her focus. Her life's purpose was to fulfill her Divine mission, and she remained consistent in her devotion to God throughout her entire lifetime. In this respect, all the years of her life were equally devoted to goodness.[4] Sarah's life should serve as an inspiration for us all.

Sarah died in Kiriath-arba—now Hebron—in the land of Canaan; and Abraham proceeded to mourn for Sarah and to bewail her. (23:2)

The rabbis say that hearing about Abraham's attempt to sacrifice her son was too much for her. How was Abraham capable of nearly sacrificing his son, whereas Sarah could not even bear hearing about such a possibility?

As we have seen,[5] Abraham was somewhat detached from the world and viewed things from their abstract, spiritual perspective. Sarah's focus, in contrast, was on integrating Divine spirituality into the mundane world. So, while Abraham could somehow detach himself from the fact that Isaac's death would spell the end of their Divine mission, Sarah could not. The thought that Isaac was no longer alive opposed everything she lived for, and her soul left her.[6]

Upon hearing that her husband and son had risen to the challenge of this ultimate sacrifice, Sarah's soul was freed from the bonds of her body and attained an infinitely higher level of connection with God. It was specifically through this lofty experience that her life's mission was completed and she no longer needed to remain in this world.[7]

A person's essential physical needs can be divided into two categories: internal needs, such as air and food, and external needs, such as clothing and shelter. Our spiritual needs—the Divine consciousness that sustains us spiritually—may also be similarly categorized: the immanent aspects of Divinity, which we can internalize and understand; and the transcendent aspects of Divinity, which we can know about but not truly understand. When we do our utmost to internalize what we can comprehend and then accept what we cannot comprehend, God blesses our efforts with success beyond measure, just as He blessed Sarah.

Yet, there is a third human need: light. Lighting up a dark room adds nothing per se to the room, yet the entire ambience has been transformed. Confusion, disorientation, and gloom are replaced by clarity, direction, and joy. Similarly, we can perform our Divine mission impeccably but without light, warmth, and vitality. This is a miracle: our ability to invigorate our work with warmth, enthusiasm, and vitality.[8]

Then Abraham rose from beside his dead, and spoke to the Hittites, saying, (23:3)

Here we see the great effect Sarah's life had upon her husband. Abraham's courage to speak forcefully to the Hittites came from Sarah. Our sages call the Jewish [or God-fearing Gentile] wife "the mainstay of the home." Her positive influence is recognizable in the actions and behavior of her husband and children.[9]

Although Abraham spoke with deference to the Hittites, at the same time he was not willing to negotiate: he stated his position firmly. As we see from the ensuing dialogue, the Hittites respected Abraham's seriousness and did not question his right to the property. In fact, they offered to give him not only the burial cave but the entire field.

Similarly, in all cases of fulfilling God's will, we should not hesitate to articulate our position respectfully yet firmly, and make it clear to any voices of opposition—whether originating within our own minds, within our own ranks, or from without—that we will not hesitate to exercise our full rights if need be. When we do not vacillate, not only is any potential opposition nipped in the bud; the truth of our position even transforms possible enemies into friends.[10]

and spoke to Ephron in the hearing of the people of the land, saying, “If only you would hear me out! Let me pay the price of the land; accept it from me, that I may bury my dead there.”

(23:13)

The Jew is a “resident” in the world, for the Torah instructs him not escape the physical reality but to inhabit it and elevate it. Virtually all the mitzvot (divine commandments) of the Torah are physical actions involving physical objects, in keeping with the Jew’s mission to make a “dwelling for G-d in the material realm” by sanctifying the everyday materials of everyday life.

At the same time, the Jew [and God-fearer] feels himself a “stranger” in the material world. His true home is a higher, loftier place, the world of spirit, the world of holiness and Godliness from which his soul has been exiled and to which it yearns to return. Indeed, it is only because the Jew [and God-fearing Gentile] feels himself a stranger in the world that he can avoid being wholly consumed and overwhelmed by it, and maintain the spiritual vision and integrity required to elevate it and sanctify it as an abode for the divine presence… (The Lubavitcher Rebbe)

The story is told of the visitor who, stopping by the home of the great Chassidic master Rabbi DovBer of Mezheritch, was outraged by the poverty he encountered there. Rabbi DovBer’s home was bare of all furnishing, save for an assortment of rough wooden planks and blocks that served as benches for his students during the day and as beds for his family at night.

“How can you live like this?” demanded the visitor. “I myself am far from wealthy, but at least in my home you will find, thank G-d, the basic necessities: some chairs, a table, beds...”

“Indeed?” said Rabbi DovBer. “But I don’t see any of your furnishings. How do you manage without them?”

“What do you mean? Do you think that I schlep all my possessions along with me wherever I go? When I travel, I make do with what’s available. But at home—a person’s home is a different matter altogether!”

“Ah, yes,” said Rabbi DovBer. “At home [referring to his true spiritual home], it is a different matter altogether...” (Likkutei Dibburim)

Holy things cannot be acquired "for free," that is, without proper effort.[11] This is why Abraham chose to pay to transfer the property into the realm of holiness, even though it was rightfully his in any case.

Similarly, each one of us has been assigned a portion of the world that it is our responsibility to bring into the realm of holiness. We must do this at "full price," with hard work and effort. Even those of us who find it easy to study the Torah and observe the commandments must push ourselves beyond the boundaries of our natural inclinations. Only in this way can we achieve our purpose in the world.[12]

Abraham was now old, advanced in years, and the Lord had blessed Abraham in all things. (24:1)

Because Abraham continued to be deeply affected by events, the years took their toll and the effect became visible. In this context, the Torah is telling us that "Abraham was old…because he continued to deeply internalize his experiences." Here, we may take Abraham's attitude as an object lesson in how not to behave. Of course, we should strive to emulate his care to deeply internalize his experiences. But at the same time, we should trust in God's protection and not take life's experiences so to heart that they age us physically.[13]

According to the sages, the word "old" in certain cases implies "wise,"[14] and the idiom "to come with days" means "to have used all one's days for performing God's commandments."[15] The pursuit of wisdom is an act of personal growth and self-fulfillment. Performing the commandments, on the other hand, refines and elevates the physical world. In many cases, these two facets of fulfilling God's will seem to conflict. Each competes for our time and attention, forcing us to choose one over the other. Abraham, however, was able to synthesize the two seamlessly. He pursued and achieved his inward and outward goals without compromising either, and did so in such a way that each complemented the other.

Blending two opposites is no small feat, one that other righteous individuals who lived before the Torah was given were not able to accomplish. They invariably opted for the path of inner personal refinement and eschewed the challenge of elevating the world.

With the giving of the Torah, however, the ability to blend these two approaches was granted to every Jew [and God-fearing Gentile]. As will be explained further on, the Torah reconciles the opposing aspects in spiritual life; as such, now that the Torah has been given to us, we can follow Abraham's example and pursue both the path of self-refinement and that of the adaptation of the world, such that both pursuits complement and enhance each other.[16]

But how can the Torah consider all of Abraham's days productive, when we know that he was raised as an idolater and only recognized the existence of God at a certain point in his childhood?[17] Are we to count the years in which Abraham served idols together with the years in which he served God?

The answer is yes, because it was precisely Abraham's idol worship that compelled him to actively seek the truth. As Maimonides writes:[18] "He wondered, 'How can the world run without someone running it?' He continued searching until he found the truth."

As we saw above concerning Sarah,[19] the periods of preparation and education in our lives count as part of our periods of accomplishment. With Abraham, we see how even inadvertent periods of negative activity can be counted together with positive periods if we use them as an impetus for positive action.[20]

The Divine energy we generate by performing God's commandments spreads around us, encompassing us as a spiritual "garment" that clothes us from head to toe. This garment becomes the interface between our psyches and our surrounding environment, such that all our experiences and interactions are filtered through this Divine aura. This is the mechanism by which we attain, maintain, and enhance our Divine consciousness even while living in the physical world. In the afterlife, these garments take on a new role: they enable the soul to absorb the sublime Godly energies of the Garden of Eden.[21]

However, we perform the commandments not merely for our own sake, but also in order to refine and elevate the world around us. It is imperative to perform commandments daily, for the spiritual makeup of every day is a unique blend of the spiritual energies that define it.

True, time is also divided into hours, months, years, and so on, and each of these units also possesses its own unique spiritual identity; but the basic unit of time is the day, as is clear from the fact that the successive stages in the creation of the world were delineated by this unit. It is therefore important to observe commandments on a daily basis, since if that opportunity is missed, it can never be recovered, i.e., that segment of time will not have been sanctified.

The Zohar thus interprets the phrase that Abraham "came with days" to mean that he fulfilled the commandments every day of his life.[22]

And Abraham said to the senior servant of his household, who had charge of all that he owned, “Put your hand under my thigh (24:2)

Making the world into God's home is thus the archetypal case of partial admission. Abraham knew this, as well as the fact that the formation of Isaac's future family would be a crucial step in the process of making the physical world a home for God.[23] Therefore, when charging Eliezer with the mission of finding Isaac a wife, he knew it was necessary to imbue the entire enterprise with power and commitment beyond normal mortal capacities. He therefore made Eliezer take on oath, even though he entertained no doubts as to his servant's fidelity to his mission.[24]

and I will make you swear by the Lord, the God of heaven and the God of the earth, that you will not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites among whom I dwell, (24:3)

Initially, people are prepared to accept the existence of an abstract, remote "God of heaven"; the idea of an intimate, personal "God of the earth," who may encroach upon their private lives, is much more threatening. Therefore, when Abraham began spreading his message of Divine morality, he had no choice but to base it upon the premise of the existence of a "God of heaven." Nonetheless, he continued educating his disciples until they were also ready to accept the existence of a "God of the earth," who is present within all aspects of reality and is concerned with our personal lives, as well.[25]

We can divide our pursuits between the "heavenly" and "earthly," i.e., between what we do for spiritual purposes and what we do for physical survival or pleasure. Our challenge is to ensure that God be just as much the "God of the earth" as He is the "God of heaven," i.e., that we be as conscious of Him when we engage in physical pursuits as we are when we engage in spiritual pursuits.[26]

but will go to the land of my birth and get a wife for my son Isaac.” (24:4)

The prophets often describe the relationship between God and the Jewish people [and God-fearing Gentiles] as that of husband and wife.[27] In this sense, we are all entrusted with a mission comparable to the one Abraham gave Eliezer: to go out and find those souls that have drifted away and bring them back to God, their "husband." And just as Abraham assured Eliezer that his mission would be crowned with success, we too are assured that our attempts to bring back the lost souls of Israel [and the nations] will also be blessed with success.

True, God grants each individual free choice, so it would therefore follow that our success is as much up to the individual whom we are trying to influence as it is to our own efforts. But we are also taught that when He wants, God plants good thoughts in people's minds, influencing them to choose good. Therefore, if, like Eliezer, we are totally committed to our mission and pray to God for assistance in its fulfillment,[28] we are indeed assured that God will crown our sincere and tenacious efforts with success.[29]

And if the woman does not consent to follow you, you shall then be clear of this oath to me; but do not take my son back there.” (24:8)

As we have seen, Eliezer was a righteous man, being Abraham's loyal servant and most prized disciple who helped him disseminate his teachings. Nevertheless, Eliezer was descended from Canaan, whose offspring had been cursed to be slaves. The essence of this curse was that Canaan's descendants would forever lack the mentality of self-determination, always feeling like victims of forces beyond their control, slaves of fate or circumstance.

This attitude is diametrically opposed to the Torah's insistence that humanity is free and unbound by any type of moral predetermination. Someone who does not feel that he is free to act as he pleases—and therefore responsible for his actions—cannot be part of the people whose Divine mission is to bring the Torah's message of hope and moral freedom to humanity.

And more importantly, the insidious specter of victimization and predetermination breeds depression; someone who considers himself a helpless and hopeless victim cannot evince the joy in life that must serve as the basis of our relationship to God.[30]

let the maiden to whom I say, ‘Please, lower your jar that I may drink,’ and who replies, ‘Drink, and I will also water your camels’—let her be the one whom You have decreed for Your servant Isaac. Thereby shall I know that You have dealt graciously with my master.” (24:14)

It is axiomatic that God is perfect; since He lacks nothing, He has no intrinsic need to receive anything from anyone. On the contrary, His intrinsic self-sufficiency makes it natural for Him to bestow His beneficence on His creation. Therefore, generosity is the primary way in which God relates to the world, and generosity is the natural hallmark of people who feel closely connected to God.

In contrast, evil has no intrinsic existence; it therefore has an existential need to receive. No matter how much it possesses, this need to receive remains unsatisfied, making it seek only to take and never to give. Therefore, the hallmark of evil is selfishness.

Eliezer therefore sought a woman for Isaac who would display kindness. When Rebecca went beyond fulfilling his specific request by offering to also water his camels, he saw her expression of kindness as an indication that she was a Godly person and thus a fitting match for the son of Abraham.[31]

He had scarcely finished speaking, when Rebekah, who was born to Bethuel, the son of Milcah the wife of Abraham’s brother Nahor, came out with her jar on her shoulder. (24:15)

When we do not receive the answers to our prayers immediately, it is because we have overly "distanced" ourselves from God. God may have in fact already answered our prayers, but because of our self-imposed "distance" from Him, His answer may have to undergo a lengthy process before reaching us. Those who have "distanced" themselves from God less can receive the answers to their prayers more quickly, and those who have so fully attuned their lives to God's will and presence that they have eliminated all distance between themselves and Him can be answered immediately. When two separate entities join, they can communicate instantaneously, but when they fuse into one, their communication is intrinsic and need not even be articulated.[32]

Likewise, the extent to which our prayers express our desire for unity with God also affects how quickly we can receive God's answer to them. Thus, the Torah relates three instances in which God answered a prayer instantaneously:[33] Eliezer's prayer to find a match for Isaac, Moses' prayer to be vindicated before Korach's assembly,[34] and Solomon's prayer that God rest His presence upon the Temple.[35] The object of each of these prayers was the revelation of God's unity with creation.[36]

Isaac and Rebecca's marriage brought together two opposite ends of the spiritual spectrum: Isaac represented the height of spirituality (especially inasmuch as he had been sanctified as an ascent-offering when he was bound on the altar[37]), while Rebecca (although herself totally righteous) came from a family of idolaters and a place of hedonistic materialism. Similarly, the Torah and its commandments enable us to redeem the spiritual potential latent within materiality and to sanctify the physical world.

God's response to Eliezer came before he had even completed his prayer, while His response to Moses and Solomon only came after they had completed their prayers. Therefore, Solomon's and Moses' prayers that God demonstrate how He unites with the world and humanity could at best be answered immediately. In contrast, Eliezer's prayer that God manifest the power of the Torah—by arranging the match between Isaac and Rebecca—was answered even before it was fully articulated. In fact, the only reason God waited until Eliezer had almost concluded his prayer before answering it was so that he could recognize Rebecca by the criteria he had established in his request.[38]

Additionally, Eliezer's prayer gave voice to his realization that he could not rely on his own capabilities to perform this mission. As soon as he declared his self-effacement to God, he earned the privilege of witnessing the miracles that God would perform for Abraham.[39]

To the extent that we emulate Eliezer's realization of his dependence upon God and orient our prayers toward the revelation of God's unity with the world, God's answers to our prayers can be immediate. As God Himself promises,[40] "Before they call I will answer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear."[41]

Finally, it was in Abraham's merit that God answered Eliezer's prayer before he finished it. We, too, as Abraham's [physical or spiritual] heirs, can be assured that, no matter how dark the exile, God is prepared to respond to our every need—even before it is fully verbalized.[42]

The man, meanwhile, stood gazing at her, silently wondering whether the Lord had made his errand successful or not. (24:21)

When we are confronted with a startling new and deep insight, we are initially awe-struck and disoriented; this breaks us out of our previous, limited mindset. Only after our mental complacency has been thus eliminated can we become absorbed and engrossed in the new insight.

These two stages are recognizable in the episode involving Eliezer. Eliezer first "wondered about her." He was startled by the Divinely-orchestrated flow of events and thereby lost his self-awareness. Once this happened, he was able to become fully engrossed in the events and begin "wanting to know" if this was indeed the woman he was seeking for Isaac. Had he not relinquished his ego, allowing himself to be amazed at the display of Divine providence, his personal interests and motives would have interfered with his ability to interpret the events correctly—"to know whether or not God had made his journey successful."[43]

When the camels had finished drinking, the man took a gold nose-ring weighing a half-shekel, and two gold bands for her arms, ten shekels in weight. (24:22)

The Torah here refers to the half-shekel by its weight, a beka, without defining it as a half-shekel. In contrast, in its description of the half-shekel that the Jewish people gave for the census, the Torah states, "a beka per head, which is a half-shekel."[44] Strangely, rather than defining it here, the first time it is used, the Torah defines the term beka only toward the end of the Book of Exodus.

The reason for this is that the Torah is contrasting our relationship with God before and after the Giving of the Torah. Our relationship with God is like a marriage, in that God and the Jewish people [and God-fearing Gentiles] are like two halves of a whole—each one is incomplete without the other. Eliezer alluded to this interdependency by betrothing Rebecca to Isaac with an object that weighed a half shekel.

Inasmuch as the Torah is what binds us to God [and Yeshua the Messiah is what binds God-fearing Gentiles to Torah and to God], prior to the Giving of the Torah, our union with God was akin to the attachment of two discrete entities. After the Giving of the Torah, however, our union with God became akin to the fusion of two halves into a whole.

This verse therefore uses the term beka alone, only alluding to the concept of "halfness" (since the word beka itself means "a split"), since the unity of God and the Jewish people [and the God-fearing Gentiles] at that time only approximated the relationship of two halves of a whole. In contrast, the verse describing the census clearly defines a beka as a half-shekel, for after the Giving of the Torah, we were able to unite with God as two halves of a whole.[45]

“I am Abraham’s servant,” he began. (24:34)

The Torah is generally sparing in its words. Why, then, is the Torah so verbose in narrating Eliezer's search for Rebecca, first relating the episode and then reporting Eliezer's recounting of the incident to Rebecca's family in great detail?[46]

One answer: The Torah's laws are designed to enable us to transcend nature, to overcome the world's natural un-receptiveness to Divine consciousness. In essence, then, they transcend all natural boundaries, including that of human intellect. They can therefore only be revealed to us through allusion and exegesis. In contrast, the Torah's narratives (despite the fact that many of them contain open miracles), occur fully within the context of nature——and thus can be related explicitly.[47]

Another answer: the elaborate recounting of Eliezer's narrative itself helps us to grasp the terse laws of the Torah, despite their infinite nature: Eliezer, the servant of Abraham, exemplifies the values of selfless commitment and devotion. By elaborating on Eliezer's narrative, the Torah intends to imbue us with this selflessness, making it the foundation of our spiritual lives. Once we have developed this selflessness, we are better able to grasp the Torah's laws, unencumbered by preconceived notions and biases or the finiteness of our nature.[48]

They called Rebekah and said to her, “Will you go with this man?” And she said, “I will.” (24:58)

Rebecca's immediate and unequivocal consent to the proposed marriage seems rash. This was the first she had heard about the match.[49] It involved going off with a man she hardly knew to marry a man she had not yet met, and it went against the wishes and advice of her family.[50]

The only way we can explain her reaction is if we assume that it came directly from Divine inspiration and was, in essence, beyond her control. God willed Rebecca to make this decision, in further fulfillment of Abraham's promise to Eliezer that the angel of God would "go before" him, to pre-arrange and expedite the entire process without hindrance.[51]

And they blessed Rebekah and said to her, “O sister! May you grow Into thousands of myriads; May your offspring seize The gates of their foes.” (24:60)

This verse, too, reflects Eliezer's un-natural success. Not only was Rebecca's family unable to prevent her marriage to Isaac, they even gave it their blessings. Furthermore, they prayed that her descendants should be victorious over their foes, and this would eventually include Laban himself!

Again we learn that if we wholeheartedly commit ourselves, as Eliezer did, to fulfilling our Divine mission, we, too, will see miraculous success.[52]

And Isaac went out walking in the field toward evening and, looking up, he saw camels approaching. (24:63)

The Sages say that Isaac went out to pray in the field towards evening, for in addition to following his father's custom of praying at the beginning of the day, he had initiated the practice of praying at the day's end, as well. He looked up, and he saw camels approaching.

We recite the morning prayer before beginning our workday and the evening prayer after completing our day's activities. In contrast, the afternoon prayer requires us to stop in the midst of our mundane affairs and focus on God.

Our daily, mundane affairs are symbolized by "the field," the area outside the city limits, which is untamed and uncultivated. Through instituting the afternoon prayer, Isaac transformed "the field" into a place of prayer to God.

The morning prayer undeniably serves as our principal daily renewal of Divine consciousness. Nonetheless, afterwards, it remains to be seen how we will fare when we go out into "the field." Will the secular and material influences of "the field" cause us to lose the spiritual awareness and closeness to God that we achieved during the morning prayer? By stopping in the middle of our mundane affairs in order to recite the afternoon prayer, we demonstrate that our involvement in material affairs does not separate us from God.[53]

Our lives are metaphorically divided into the stages of morning, afternoon, and evening, i.e., childhood, adulthood, and retirement. During childhood, we are sheltered from the responsibilities of "real" life and can remain focused on God without too many distractions. Upon reaching retirement age, we can once again disengage from worldly affairs and focus on what is truly meaningful. The true challenge occurs in our middle years, when we go out to "the field" and are fully engaged in earning a living and raising our families. It is especially during this period in our lives that we are called upon to raise our eyes upward, just as Isaac did, and focus on our true purpose in life.[54]

Raising her eyes, Rebekah saw Isaac. She alighted from the camel (24:64)

This was one last manifestation of Abraham's promise that God would ensure the success of Eliezer's entire mission. Even with his mission completed, supernatural orchestration of events continued to ensure that there would be no unnecessary delays. The very moment Rebecca and Eliezer arrived, they "chanced" upon Isaac in the field.[55]

The servant told Isaac all the things that he had done. (24:66)

Eliezer cited the miracles God performed for him as proof that he had fulfilled his mission devotedly, without any personal motives. Similarly, when we approach our Divine mission with this underlying selflessness, we can indeed be assured of complete success, even if many miracles are needed along the way.[56]

Isaac then brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebekah as his wife. Isaac loved her, and thus found comfort after his mother’s death. (24:67)

The Sages say that Isaac brought Rebecca into the tent, placing his household's domestic affairs under her control. From the moment she assumed this role, it became clear that Rebecca was exactly like his mother Sarah, for the ongoing miracles that had occurred in Sarah's merit when she was alive once again resumed: the oil lamp Rebecca lit on Friday remained lit until the following Friday, even though it only held enough oil for one day; even a small amount of the bread she baked sufficed to satisfy hunger; and a cloud hovered above the tent. Seeing how she was blessed in these ways, Isaac became fully convinced that Rebecca was indeed worthy of being his mother Sarah's successor.

As long as Sarah lived, there was a blessing on her dough, and the lamp used to burn from the evening of the Sabbath until the evening of the following Sabbath; when she died, these ceased; but when Rebecca came, they returned… (Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)

Jewish law dictates that if the woman of the home cannot light the Sabbath candles for whatever reason, her husband must do so in her stead.[57] Since, as we know, Abraham observed all the commandments (even the rabbinic ordinances),[58] he lit the Sabbath candles after Sarah's passing. Yet, despite his great righteousness, his candles did not remain lit throughout the week, as Sarah's had.

This demonstrates the unique ability of Jewish [and God-fearing Gentile] women and girls—who are all "daughters" of Sarah and Rebecca—to influence the spiritual character of the home, illuminating it with the holiness of the Sabbath throughout the ensuing mundane week. Although the illumination provided by their candles might be physically visible for only a limited time, their spiritual illumination remains the entire week.

By nature, the male is the gatherer: he brings the provisions, the raw materials, into the home. But it is the woman who refines them and prepares them for human consumption, transforming all the man gathers into a viable, livable home. This is true both materially and spiritually: only the woman possesses the spiritual power to make the home fit to be a home for God, as well. Therefore, Abraham's candles could produce no more than a natural, limited light; he was not truly able to spiritualize the house.

It is instructive to note that this and the other miracles returned even before Rebecca married Isaac.[59] Thus, we can view Rebecca's lighting of the Sabbath candles as a precedent for the custom to have young unmarried girls … light Sabbath candles each Friday, in addition to those lit by their mother.[60]

Considering the extent of today's spiritual darkness, it would seem wise for all Jewish [and God-fearing Gentile] communities (even those who, in the past, did not follow this custom) to encourage all girls from the age of three, who can understand the concept of Sabbath candles, to adopt this custom. This will bring much-needed spiritual light, both to their own home and ultimately to the entire world.[61]

Abraham took another wife, whose name was Keturah. (25:1)

This is Hagar. She is called Keturah because her deeds were now as pleasing as the ketoret (the incense offered in the Holy Temple)… (Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)

Literally, these words mean "Abraham enhanced," alluding to the fact that it was only after Abraham enhanced the quality of his own Divine service that he was able to spiritually elevate Hagar [whom the sages assert is Keturah]. We must first elevate ourselves in order to elevate someone else.[62]

After the death of Abraham, God blessed his son Isaac. And Isaac settled near Beer-lahai-roi. (25:11)

Abraham embodied loving-kindness, while Isaac embodied strength and severity. Abraham therefore sought to reveal the good within other people by focusing on their positive behavior. With Esau, this was clearly impossible, for whatever good he possessed was too buried beneath the effects of years of sinful living. Only the overwhelming power of Isaac's approach could possibly connect Esau with the limitless energy of repentance.[63]

LIFE AFTER DEATH

The events recounted in the Torah section of Chayei Sarah (Genesis 23:1-25:18) all take place after Sarah’s death. Not only that—they seem to all underscore the fact of her demise. First we read of Sarah’s burial in the Machpeilah Cave in Hebron. Following that, we have the story of Rebecca’s selection as a wife for Isaac and how she came to replace Sarah as the matriarch in Abraham’s household. And then the Torah tells of the return of Hagar—whom Sarah had banished from Abraham’s home.

Yet Chayei Sarah means “the life of Sarah”! How is this to be reconciled with the concept that the name of a Torah portion expresses its essential theme and message?

While includes heaven and hell … its central feature is techiat hameitim, the vivification of the dead. Techiat hameitim states that in the messianic age our souls will be restored to our resurrected bodies. In other words, life as our own soul inhabiting our own body—basically the life we know today—will resume.

But the sages of the Talmud go even further than that, stating that there is a level on which life extends beyond death without interruption. “Moses did not die,” they categorically state; “Our father Jacob did not die,” despite the fact that “the eulogizers eulogized, the embalmers embalmed, and the gravediggers buried.” Lest one interpret these statements allegorically, Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, 1040- 1105, the greatest of the biblical and talmudic commentators) explains, “He seemed to them as if dead, but in truth he was alive.”

Chassidic master Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi explains that life as we know it can indeed survive death; the question is only what sort of life is it that we know before death.

Life’s pleasures are many and varied, but they can be divided into two general categories: the satisfaction of a personal need or desire, or the achievement of a certain impact on the lives of others. The first category offers many gratifying moments; but nothing can equal the fulfillment that comes when you make a difference in others’ lives, when the world becomes different—better, smarter, holier—because of something you’ve done.

The first category ceases with the interruption of physical life. Once you’re dead and buried, there are no more strolls in the park. But your impact on the world continues. If you taught something to someone, that person is now teaching it to someone else. If you acted kindly to someone, that person still feels good about it, is a better person for it, and is acting more kindly to others. If you made the world a better place, that improvement is now being built upon to make the world an even better place.

So does “life as we know it” extend beyond death? That depends on what you know life as. If life, to you, is getting the most you can of its resources for yourself, you have a limited time in which to get as much as you can, and then the fat lady sings and the curtain falls. If life, to you, is making a difference in the lives of others, you’re going to live forever.

This is the message of the Torah reading of Chayei Sarah, in which “The Life of Sarah” occurs after her death. Ostensibly, the events of Chayei Sarah emphasize that fact that Sarah is no more; in truth, however, they proclaim that Sarah lives.

Together with Abraham, Sarah pioneered the Jewish settlement of the Land of Canaan; as described in the opening chapter of Chayei Sarah, her burial in the Cave of Machpeilah achieved the first actual Jewish ownership of a piece of land in the Holy Land. Sarah devoted her life to the creation of the first Jewish family; the story of Rebecca’s selection demonstrates how Sarah’s successor embodied the ideals upon which Sarah founded the Jewish home.

Thus the name Chayei Sarah expresses this Torah section’s true import. Indeed, none of the earlier Torah sections that relate the events of Sarah’s life before her death can merit the name “The Life of Sarah.” These describe what, taken on its own, can be seen as a temporal life—a life with a beginning and an end, a life confined to a particular body and a particular span of time. The true Chayei Sarah comes to light in the events following her death, when the eternity of her life is revealed.

Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, www.therebbe.org; adapted by Yanki Tauber,

editor@chabadonline.com.

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