As usual, I've collected some snippets from the commentaries that I found though provoking on this week's parsha (weekly Torah reading) ~ Chayei Sarah (Genesis 23:1 to 25:18)
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, recently retired from being the chief rabbi of the UK, points out that, in the story of Avraham and Sarah, God had promised them two things: children and a land ~ but that at the beginning of this week's parsha, Sarah has just died, Yitchok is unmarried (and Ishmael isn't in the picture), and Avraham has no land. It's these circumstances that lead to the events related in the parsha.
Rabbi Sacks explains:
God promises, but we have to act. God promised Abraham the land, but he had to buy the first field. God promised Abraham many descendants, but Abraham had to ensure that his son was married, and to a woman who would share the life of the covenant, so that Abraham would have, as we say today, “Jewish grandchildren.”
Despite all the promises, God does not and will not do it alone. By the very act of self-limitation (tzimtzum) through which He creates the space for human freedom, He gives us responsibility, and only by exercising it do we reach our full stature as human beings. God saved Noah from the flood, but Noah had to make the ark. He gave the land of Israel to the people of Israel, but they had to fight the battles. God gives us the strength to act, but we have to do the deed. What changes the world, what fulfils our destiny, is not what God does for us but what we do for God.
That is what leaders understand, and it is what made Abraham the first Jewish leader. Leaders take responsibility for creating the conditions through which God’s purposes can be fulfilled. They are not passive but active – even in old age, like Abraham in this week’s parsha.
Rabbi Neal Loevinger focuses on a
different part of the story, Avraham's remarriage ~ to Keturah (who is identified by Rashi and other commentators, based on an older midrash, as the woman previously known as Hagar, the mother of Ishmael and Avraham's former concubine):
It’s easy to miss this short report {of the remarriage} in a casual reading of the Torah, especially since the other events of the portion are much more dramatic. On the other hand, it’s a remarkable portrayal of the human capacity for love and relationship: here is an old man, having gone through many trials and challenges in his life, who nevertheless opens his heart to another after the death of his wife of many decades....
Taking this midrash to its logical (or perhaps emotional) conclusion, we must also consider the depth of Hagar’s ability to forgive Avraham for his previous behavior, perhaps along with Avraham’s t’shuvah for sending her away into dangerous conditions – for without deep t’shuvah and deeper forgiveness, how could the sages imagine that such a violently broken relationship could ever achieve such reconciliation?
So not only do the ancient rabbis take the story of Avraham’s late-life marriage and turn it into a story of tremendous personal transformation- from expulsion to reconciliation, from shame to repentance and repair - but they do so by offering us Hagar as a model of extraordinary personal qualities. In this reading, the Egyptian Hagar becomes an exemplar of forgiveness, patience, and forbearance - traits that Judaism holds as pious and worthy and important.
The Mishnah, in Pirkei Avot 4:1, defines the wise one as one who learns from every person. The rabbis of the midrash identifying Keturah with Hagar go even further: they imagine that the wisest and greatest have much to learn from those considered lowest and least- but who may be even higher and holier in matters of the spirit. The rabbis were not afraid to imagine an Egyptian servant girl as a great soul, an equal to Avraham; who among us may be even greater, and our teacher if only we would see?
Rabbi Marc Angel, rabbi emeritus of Shearith Israel in Manhattan (the oldest synagogue in the US, it's Spanish-Portuguese in tradition ~ and well worth a visit of you are in NYC...):
And Abraham was old, well stricken in years” (Bereishith 24:1). The Hebrew phrase for “well stricken in years” is “ba bayamim” which literally means that Abraham came in days. When the Torah describes the elderliness of Abraham and Sarah, it uses similar wording: “And Abraham and Sarah were old, well stricken in years” (ba’im bayamim); literally, this means that Abraham and Sarah came in days. If the Torah informs us that Abraham is old (zaken) and that Abraham and Sarah are old (zekeinim), what is added by the words ba bayamim or ba’im bayamim? What do these words actually mean? How does one “come in days?”
....When Abraham and Sarah are described as zaken/zekeinim, this refers to their chronological ages. But when the Torah adds the words “ba bayamim/ba’im bayamim” it may be teaching us that Abraham and Sarah were living actively, making every day count. They were physiologically, emotionally and psychologically much younger than their chronological ages. They did not live passive lives waiting for their days to pass. Rather, they “came in days,” i.e. they actively greeted each day, they were ready for new challenges and new adventures....
Although the chronological aging process is automatic and beyond human control, the physiological, emotional and psychological aging processes can be influenced by human intervention. Humans can lower their physiological ages by exercising, staying fit, eating healthfully. Humans can lower their psychological/emotional ages by keeping alert mentally, by continuing to learn, by keeping focused on new goals to accomplish.
Abraham and Sara “came in days”—they dealt with each day actively and purposefully. This is an important lesson for all human beings to learn. It’s not just a question of how old you are, but of how you are old!
Rabbi Avi Weiss writes about
the trop (melody) used with the actual Torah reading:
The highest and most prolonged trop is called the shalshelet. The word shalshelet is from the word shalosh - three. The sound of this note curves upward and then down three successive times. Commentators suggest that when a shalshelet appears, it indicates a feeling of hesitation by a character in the text....{discussion of possible hesitation by Eliezer, indicated by the trop in finding a bride for Yitchok, based on Eliezer's possible self-interest}... The Rambam notes that, in many areas, one who hesitates but in the end does the principled thing is on a higher level than one who acts without hesitation. Therefore, Yosef's hesitation doesn't mean he's less righteous, but rather, very human. And certainly, the act of Eliezer falls into this same category.
Most often, when people become involved in an endeavor they ask "what's in it for me?" Eliezer may have asked this most human question, but the message of the shalshelet is clear. There are times when we are called upon to complete tasks that may not be in our best self interest, but we must do them nonetheless. In a world of selfishness this musical note teaches each one of us the importance of selflessness.
Interestingly, the shalshelet looks like a crooked line that begins on the ground and reaches upward. It is telling us that personal feelings are real and human. But it is also teaching us that sometimes we should abandon those natural human inclinations and reach beyond ourselves. Then we will be able to reach the heavens.
As usual, there's lots more to unpack from the parsha than a quick surface reading would show. What interesting insights have you had or read?