Chayei Sara: Three Lessons the World Needs to Hear

In the opening verses of this week’s portion of the Torah, we read about the passing of our matriarch Sara at the ripe old age of 127 years old. Then we read the following:

And Avraham came to mourn for Sara and to weep for her. Then Avraham rose from beside his dead and spoke to the Hittites. He said, “I am a migrant and a visitor among you. Sell me a burial site here so that I can bury my dead. The Hittites answered Avraham, “Hear us, my lord. You are a prince of God in our midst. Bury your dead in the choicest of our tombs. None of us will refuse you his tomb to bury your dead. (Gen. 23: 2-6)

There are three lessons from this passage that I believe the world needs to hear and understand about what has happened to, and in, Israel and the Diaspora in the past month since Hamas' terrorist attacks of 7th October.

The first is the actions of Avraham. Upon losing his wife, his life’s partner, we are told he “came to mourn… and to weep for her.” Immediately after, in the very next verse, we read: “Then Avraham rose…”. And the connection between these verses and the current war between Israel and Hamas is clear.

In the immediate aftermath of the terrorist attacks by Hamas, the people of the State of Israel and Jews throughout the world “came to mourn… and to weep” for the 1400 innocent people that were barbarically massacred, and the 241 Israeli citizens abducted to Gaza. And we have been weeping ever since. I read a post on social media this week that talked about how life stopped on 7th October and hasn’t restarted since. That is the sense so many Jews throughout the world feel.

Yet, like Avraham, and despite our tears, we rose. In Avraham’s case, his mission was to find a suitable burial plot for his wife. In the State of Israel’s case, her mission is to do what is required to dismantle Hamas’ terrorist infrastructure, to bring home the hostages, and to look after the thousands of citizens physically injured, psychologically traumatised, or displaced from their homes.

Both missions begun in tears. Yet both demonstrating that the Jewish peoples’ greatest strength can be found at their lowest moments of despair.

The second lesson I draw from this passage is from the words Avraham says to the Hittites: “I am a migrant and visitor among you.” Commenting on this phrase “migrant and visitor” – ge’er v’toshav – the renowned Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (1903-93) has an insightful explanation which I feel is particularly relevant to Jews in the Diaspora, and facing rising levels of anti-Zionism and antisemitism.

Rabbi Soloveitchik remarks on a Jew’s position vis-à-vis modern civilisation with respect to science, Western culture, and the countries in which they live. He writes that:

The answer is enshrined in these words [ge’er v’toshav]. Certainly, I am a resident – toshav, I am one of you. I engage in business as you do, I speak your language, I take full part in your social-economic institutions. But at the same time, I am a stranger – ger, and, in some respects, a foreigner. I belong to a particular world, one that is completely foreign to you. It is a world in which I am at one with the Creator. It is a world populated by characters unknown to you, with a tradition that you do not understand, with spiritual values that seem impractical in your eyes… a world of Torah, of lovingkindness, of sanctity, or purity. You live differently, pray differently. Your conception of charity is different from ours; your days of rest are different from ours, and so on. In these matters, I am a stranger in your world, and you are a stranger in mine.

Rabbi Soloveitchik is certainly not suggesting that Judaism is incompatible with the liberal democratic western society. Nor is he suggesting that others outside of the Jewish faith don’t care about values such as lovingkindness, charity or any other characteristics that make up a good society. Far from it. He is simply, in my opinion, highlighting that Judaism, like other faiths, is different with a unique perspective on the world. As Rabbi Sacks once said: “There is no contradiction, not even a conflict, between contributing to humanity and affirming our distinctive identity. To the contrary: by being what only we are, we contribute to the world what only we can give.” The ger and the toshav can coexist, even within the same person.

But today, Jews are once again finding themselves under attack in Diaspora communities. Eighty-five years ago this evening, in 1938, Jews were also under attack. It was the start of Kristallnacht, the “Night of Broken Glass” when, between the 9th and 10th November, the Nazis carried out a co-ordinated pogrom against the German Jews. Shattered glass littered the streets after the vandalism and destruction of Jewish-owned businesses, synagogues, and homes.

Today, Jews watch increasingly hostile pro-Palestinian (and, in many cases, overtly anti-Jewish) marches through the centre of many of the world’s major cities; we watch the media questioning Israel’s motives, and too quickly forgetting the reason this war started in the first place; and we watch the number of antisemitic incidents rising at an enormous rate with swastikas painted on buildings, bomb threats at our schools, Israeli flags being burnt, and Jewish students harassed on campus.

Today, it is becoming increasingly hard to feel anything other than strangers in our own land. That is something that should worry people of all faith and of none because, as Rabbi Sacks once said, “The hate that begins with Jews never ends with Jews… I cannot begin to say how dangerous it [antisemitism] is. Not just to Jews but to everyone who values freedom, compassion, and humanity.”

The final lesson from this passage relevant to our situation today is the reaction of the Hittites to Avraham’s very presence. They describe him as “a prince of God in our midst.” Commenting on this description, the influential Lubavitcher Rebbe (1902-94) remarked that:

Although Avraham was ostensibly subject to the Hittites’ goodwill, they nonetheless recognised his true standing as a “prince of God” and treated him with the utmost deference. Similarly, when God’s plan calls for us to be at the mercy of other nations, those nations will invariably recognise our unique mission and even aid us in fulfilling it – providing that we remain steadfast in our own dedication to our goals and demonstrate true Jewish pride.

Whilst today the modern State of Israel is not “at the mercy of other nations,” it is fair to say that in the aftermath of 7th October, the world’s democracies, including the United States, the United Kingdom and Europe, “recognised our unique mission" and aided us and continue to aid us in fulfilling it by providing significant support, diplomatically and in many other ways both publicly and privately.

And even under increasing pressure, many of these nations have, in the main, not wavered in their support of the State of Israel and the Jewish people. Why? Because, as the Lubavitcher Rebbe said: “we remain steadfast in our own dedication to our goals and demonstrate Jewish pride.”

That is precisely what the people of Israel and the Jewish people around the world have done over the past month. In mourning the loss of our brothers and sisters, in praying for the safe return of the hostages, and in the physical defence of the only Jewish state in the world, we have done so with a renewed sense of Jewish pride and unity. And when united, no force on earth can defeat the Jewish people. It is the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s call to remain steadfast in our Jewish pride that will continue to sustain us in the challenging times ahead.

As alluded to in the name of this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sara, which means “the life of Sara”, the Jewish people has always been, and will always be, defined by our desire to fulfil that greatest of commands given to Moses: u’vecharta b’chaim, to choose life. Rabbi Sacks once said: “The day will come, when the story of Israel in modern times will speak not just to Jews, but to all who believe in the power of the human spirit as it reaches out to God, as an everlasting symbol of the victory of life over death, hope over despair.” That day is now.

Shabbat shalom.