The parshah entitled Hayay Sarah opens with the death of the title character. It ends with the death of Avraham and the line of Ishmael. In between we have the shidduch and marriage of Yitzhak and Rivkah. One could go the easy route and say the parsha is named because the first significant words are “Hayay Sarah,” but I think there is more to the name.
As a people of books, of manuscripts, of letters, we are a people of words. We have rules of how to speak to each other, of how to write to each other, and even what words we can use of each other. The Hafetz Hayim’s fame began when he wrote a book on how best to speak to one another, how to prevent libel and even gossip. In Pirkei Avot, we are taught that when we cite someone’s words b’shem omro, in the name of the person that spoke them, we bring about the redemption of the world. Before the creation of copyright law, Hebrew books often had extensive curses on the one who might reprint material without the permission of the author or original publisher. Words are important to Jews.
When we speak about death in Jewish communities, we often avoid the subject directly. We might hear someone is “niftar” or has departed to their eternal home. We speak of olam haba, the world to come, or Gan Eden, the Garden of Eden. Cemeteries rarely have the word cemetery in them. In some communities, they are called “Gates of Life” or some such euphemism (just as in the Talmud when it says an evil person is blessed, it really means cursed!)
In our parshah, twenty verses discuss the negotiation of a burial place for Sarah, but sixty-seven discuss the betrothal and wedding of Rivkah and Yitzhak. I was reminded recently of the debate in the Talmud about when a funeral procession and a wedding procession meet at an intersection, who gets priority? The answer is the wedding procession, just as it seems in this parshah--in Judaism, we spend our lives thinking about life, not death.
In my mind, the parshah was named deliberately, Hayay Sarah is about Sarah’s legacy. It is about how the good she did during her life translated into the good of her children. Her husband took care of her remains, lovingly, and then ensured that she lived on, by arranging Yitzhak’s marriage and ensuring grandchildren.
After Avraham ensured his son’s legacy, he looked towards his own happiness. He married again and had more children, yet was careful to make sure that Yitzhak gained his actual inheritance, his spiritual legacy. Rashi notes that his second wife was actually his first mistress, Hagar. Perhaps she was renamed to demonstrate her new potential and new covenant with God, just like Avraham and Sarah.
It is telling that the penultimate section of the parshah is the temporary reunification of Yitzhak and Yishmael. Having the two sons bury their father, together, demonstrates how death can interact with life, creating the family reunions that we neglect to plan.
Concluding with Yishmael’s descendants teaches that God’s promises are fulfilled. Just as Yitzhak’s descendants complete God’s promises to Avraham, Yishmael’s descendants complete God’s promises to Hagar.
All in all, just as the parshah is entitled, we speak of life, not death. This is truly for the best.
Over the last three weeks, I have discussed the practices and observance of Shabbat in a series of classes. In the weeks, to come I will be meeting on Tuesday nights (with the exception of the Interfaith Thanksgiving, to look at some texts from the Talmud, to discover what Talmud is and to look at the intimate discussions and relationships which continue to shape our lives today. Simply put, as Jews, even more than the Bible, the Talmud is the source that deals with our daily lives, and yet for many of us, it is a text with which we are almost wholly unfamiliar. We are not biblical Jews, not Karaites, but rabbinic Jews. Discussing EVERY subject under the sun from the ratio of pi, to whether it is ok to shave your body hair, to what sacrifices would we offer if the Temple were in existence, to love, marriage, divorce, what we eat, how to sleep, what to do with our lives and so on and so on and so on. The debates reveal differing schools of thought on biblical interpretation and human interactions. To give one powerful example we discussed over the last three weeks, the Torah says in the Ten Commandments Observe and Keep the Shabbat. It tells us not to work on Shabbat or Festivals, yet never clearly defines what work is. The Talmud then has two books entirely devoted to how one can keep Shabbat.
In my rabbinate, what I strive to teach is that every moment is an opportunity for life and for Jewish choices. Some people don’t quite follow the complicated debates of the Talmud. Why do they get so nitty gritty? Why are they focused on every little detail? Don’t they have anything better to do? In my daily study I sometimes get bogged down with texts that seem less relevant to my life--yet I try to push on. Why? Because what the rabbis were doing was struggling with all of the big questions. Life isn’t lived just in the theoretical. It’s lived in all of the individual daily moments--the crazy moments, the good moments, the bad moments. The moments when we hear bad news and the ones where we celebrate. Life is the nitty gritty. I invite you to join with me in the next few weeks--argue with me and we will learn together!
