Chayyei Sarah 5774

By Rabbno Daniel A. Kripper
Beth Israel Aruba

And the life of Sarah was a hundred and seven and twenty years; these were the years of the life of Sarah.  And Sarah died in Kiriatharba – the same is Hebron – in the land of Canaan; and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her.

Genesis 23:1-2

These lines are sober and, none the less, very powerful.  Sarah, our matriarch, lived an incredible and dynamic life and, at the end, in two words, she died.  Immediately after she is praised, mourned, and finally laid to rest.  And life goes on.  Perhaps the Torah’s brief description of her death (especially when compared to the many stories concerning her life and even her burial)  is a way to remind us of what is important.  The Torah teaches us to live to the fullest during the time we have, to mourn what we will unavoidably loose, and finally, to let go and  release.

The Torah tells us that Sarah lived 100 years, 20 years, and 7 years.  This sentence is very different and much more descriptive that the more concise expression, 127 years. Each part of this phrase expresses a stage full of life.  A hundred years, I imagine her as an old woman, tired, sickened, thoughtful, joking with irony but imbued with the wisdom which cost her so much.  Time starts to fly backwards, sees her wrinkles forming and disappearing, straightening her back, clearing up her eyes.  Each decade of return takes with it a bit of weight and wearing out.  And suddenly she is a 20-year-old woman, with thick dark hair fluttering in the wind, chiseled features, beautiful and piercing eyes, full of youthfulness and daring.  The years continue to move back until she is a 7-year-old girl.  A dreamy girl appears, with bones that are still growing, and limbs a little out of proportion.

Each stage of her life is distinct and different and, somehow, there is no contradiction between the Chayyei Sarah – these lives of Sarah.  She has lived many lives, but each and every one of them has been authentic; each tear and each smile making up their totality.  These periods of her life are perfectly nested inside one another, just as each layer of a Matriushka doll.  All of them are complete in and by themselves, but separately, each chapter is limited.  But now, however, at the time of her death, her lives integrate to form a rich and complete mosaic of an entire life.

Our mother Sarah teaches us a lot of how to live.  In her full 127 years, she was able to face challenges, pain, insecurity, instability, anxiety, and loss.  She also knew hilarity, beauty, passion, adventure, and miracle.  She is a brilliant example of how to travel along the storms that define, shape, and break this worldly life.  The Torah gives us an idea of how she confronted, reacted, and overcame difficult moments.  And in the heart of this unyielding and sharp woman, we find that Sarah enjoyed a deep and fervently personal relationship with God.  She is casual, spontaneous, and honest.

In one of the most impressive and irreverent moments of the Torah, Sarah laughs at God.  God tells Sarah that, despite her advanced age and her life-long barrenness, she is going to have a child.  After years of trying to conceive and failing, Sarah skeptically laughs.  This moment of bitter and broken laughter constitutes a gift for each one of us who has felt , at some point, pushed to the limit after months of unrelieved struggling, anyone who has been broken after years of fighting.

In the reading of this section, Sarah shows us how to be authentic.  Sarah laughs unbelievingly, and her pain filters through the pages of the Torah.  And God reacts lovingly.  He says, “Why are you laughing?  You think I’m joking?  I am not.  There is nothing I cannot do, and I say that, by this time next year, you will have a child.”  This is a beautiful interaction.  How is our harshness and bitterness of spirit relieved when treated with trust and compassion!  What comfort to be heard, seen, heeded, even at a time of profound bitterness, anger, and grief!

Sarah knew how to live a spiritually authentic life many years before there were temples or prayer books.  She prayed with her feet and her fingers and her eyes and her laugh.  Things were often hard and good times did not last long, but she made all the moments of her life count.  She exercised a lifelong spiritual practice of always being herself.

This week of Chayyei Sarah – the life of Sarah – may we find a way to follow her example, so we may live without fear, with a sense of fulfillment and truth.  And may our valiant honesty combine with care, love, and good moods.

Rabbi Daniel Kripper