D’var Torah: Chayei Sarah 2025/5786 חיי שרה

Dalia Hochman ‘92, PhD, Head of School Gann Academy, Schechter Parent and Schechter Alumni Parent

If Disney had to choose a Torah princess, the matriarch Rebecca would fit the bill. In this week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, we read one of the most well-known tales of courtship, love, and marriage in the Jewish tradition. As a Bat Mitzvah many years back, I was proud to have this Torah portion because in its narrative, I saw rare attention paid to strong heroines. I was inspired by how Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, describes Rebecca as a suitable wife because of her acts of chesed (loving-kindness) in addition to her great beauty. As a young girl, I was moved by the way the Torah describes Isaac’s love for Rebecca: “And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent, and took Rebecca and she became his wife; and he loved her. And Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.*” (Genesis 24:67)

This week, on the 35th anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah, I read this parasha as much more complex and, in some ways, more tragic. Bookended by the deaths of Sarah at the beginning and Abraham at the end, this is a story of a family beset by complicated attachments, trauma across generations, and unfulfilled dreams. And while the text provides exacting details on prosaic tasks such as burial plots and water for camels, we are left with little information on the emotions of the main characters who are, after all, our very own matriarchs and patriarchs.  Shouldn’t we, the Jewish people, have better access to these individuals who are so instrumental to our tradition?

Like any good piece of Torah, the text brings up more questions than answers: Why did Sarah die? Because, perhaps, she was so overwhelmed by the trauma of the near-death of her only in the previous story of Akedat Yitzchak. Some interpretations complicate this explanation further by suggesting Sarah died before she heard the end of the Akedah story, without learning of Yitzchak’s survival. We therefore begin Chayei Sarah with a sense that Sarah’s life ended in emotional distress, without closure or repair.

And then another question emerges: if Abraham is the father of a great nation, why does he not own any land, not even a small plot to bury his wife? The purchase of Ma’arat Hamachpelah in this parasha seems harried and rushed. However, it becomes for many rabbinic sources the early proof text of a claim to the Land of Israel. 

The questions go on and on. Why is Eliezer so central to the story of Isaac and Rebecca’s marriage arrangement? He is, after all, merely a servant and not part of the biological family.  The Sefat Emet, a 19th-century Polish Rabbi, suggests that Abraham preferred Eliezer’s focus on chesed (loving-kindness) over Isaac’s style of gevurah (discipline and strength). He suggests that as a result of Abraham’s preference, he viewed Eliezer like a son who was given a key role in the formation of the people of Israel. Rabbi Aviva Richman goes so far as to suggest that, “Eliezer may be an even more accessible and relevant religious role model for us than Abraham.”

The complexity and layers of this text draw me in as an adult. What is so compelling about the study of Torah is how it requires one to operate on logical, emotional, and intellectual dimensions all at once. We must flex all of our “multiple intelligences” in trying to make sense of Chayei Sarah. In doing so, we challenge our core beliefs and gain insight into the human condition. 

I reread this piece of Torah from my office at Gann Academy, where my own journey has come full circle. So much of my love of Jewish learning began at Stein Circle in the 1980s and it is an honor to be able to give back to the Jewish community by inspiring the next generation in a similar fashion. When my students at Gann ask me why I love being Jewish, I share that our tradition– its rituals, history, and texts– deeply enrich my experience of being human. While our kids may only understand the Torah as a Disney movie today, the investment we are making to help young people create meaningful Jewish lives in the future is well worth the wait. 

*This translation is not quite exact. In fact the way the Hebrew is formulated here is fascinating. I encourage a deeper dive into this pasuk by reading the Rashi commentary. Dr. Avivah Zornberg also explicates the meaning of this complex phraseology in her book, Beginning of Desire: Reflections on Genesis.