Chayei Sarah
Genesis 23:1 – 25:18 

By Jen Smith 

Parashat Chayei Sarah opens with a paradox: Chayei Sarah literally means “the life of Sarah,” but ironically, it begins with her death. When I first began reading and studying the Torah portions week by week, I was startled by the abrupt beginning of Chayei Sarah. After all, we were on a role, counting the stars and numbering descendants, navigating complex relationships, learning about Abraham’s daring journey to monotheism, exploring the depths of faith and sacrifice, and celebrating the birth of a new generation. Seems an inopportune time for our matriarch to die (even if she was 127!)  

It is as if the Torah wants to remind us that while living a meaningful life is important today, the ripples of positive impact have the potential to change the course of history for countless generations to come. Jewish mysticism teaches that a tzaddik’s influence becomes stronger, and even more visceral, after their death, as their mitzvot and good deeds continue to radiate outward like concentric circles in an infinite body of water. Sarah’s presence, even in her physical absence, is the catalyst that moves Abraham, Isaac, and the entire future of our people forward. 

Abraham’s search for a burial place for his wife is not only an act of love; it is a model of transition. He must take the first step into a world without Sarah, a world that looks familiar but feels completely different. Rabbi and 12th century Torah scholar, Rambam, notes that this moment introduces us to the human task of continuity, the painful task of carrying forward the lessons and ideals of those who came before us, even as we grow into something new.  

We all know these moments: when life nudges us toward the next chapter before we feel ready. In a sense, every birthday, every milestone, and every new stage of life is a gentle version of what Abraham faced. We do our best to honor what was, while bravely entering what comes next. 

Tomorrow my beautiful firstborn, Jordan, turns 16 years old, and in our modern world it feels like I am. Although it is he, who is crossing one of life’s significant thresholds. It may not be as dramatic as an ancient pilgrimage, but it is sacred. In Gematria (Jewish numerology) the number 16 has a numerical value that translates to the word tov (good); a beautiful, divine message of hope that reminds Jordan that this year will be another year of goodness framed by positive choices, personal and communal growth, and spiritual wonder as he discovers his power to shape his own life’s path. Just as the Torah teaches: our steps in life become holy when we walk forward with intention and gratitude. 

Later in the parashah, we meet a rare and tender verse: “And Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening.” (Gen. 24:63)  

The Hebrew word lasuach can mean meditate, pray, or simply to “be with oneself.” The mystics imagine Isaac standing between day and night, in the twilight that Rabbi Nachman of Breslov called “the gateway between worlds” seeking to understand who he is outside of his mother’s presence. As teenagers we understand this moment more than anyone, as we occupy that space between “what was” and “what is becoming.” It is that feeling we experience of knowing that we are changing (physically, emotionally, practically), while our lives get bigger by the moment and our worldview expands exponentially. 

This vulnerable moment is where we find Sarah’s only son, Isaac. Certain only in his uncertainty, and drained physically and emotionally, a vision appears on the horizon and it’s…..Rebecca. It is Isaac’s future. A reminder that even in shaky transitions, new blessings approach.  

The search for Isaac’s wife, a task entrusted to Eliezer, is infused with rich themes weaving together human responsibility and mystical surrender. So, Eliezer prays for a sign: 

“Let it be that the one who offers water… she will be the one You have appointed.” (Gen. 24:14) 

In Jewish mysticism, water is the element representing chesed – loving kindness. Eliezer’s test is not about beauty or wealth; it is about generosity. He wants a future for the Jewish people that is built upon a foundation of compassion rather than power. This is the kind of wisdom we crave now more than ever. Even as adults, we don’t always know the right answer, but we can set intentions for good. We can look for the people and the moments that overflow with kindness. 

Chayei Sarah is about leaving a legacy that helps to shape the ethics of future generations. A legacy that reminds us that the way we welcome others, how we navigate transitions, and how well we listen for Divine guidance matters.   

Abraham builds a future. Isaac learns to stand steady. Rebecca arrives with an open heart. And Eliezer trusts that the right next step will reveal itself. I think, from my limited experience, this is also what it means to raise a teenager. You raise them with strong roots and remind them they were born with divine wings. You teach them kindness, courage, and faith; and then, bit by bit, you let them step into their own unfolding story. 

In mystical thought, every soul has its own melody and its own light. A 16th birthday is not just a mark of age, it’s the awakening of that inner light, preparing to shine more boldly. 

This Shabbat, may we learn, like Abraham, to honor the past while stepping bravely into the future. May we learn, like Isaac, to pause, breathe, and seek the sacred in moments of change. May we learn, like Rebecca, to lead with kindness, generosity, and courage. And may this Shabbat of Chayei Sarah remind us that life is a tapestry woven from memory, hope, and the choices we make each day. 

And to a certain young man turning 16: 

May this year be filled with tov, with goodness upon goodness, and may you always know the depth of the light inside you and the beautiful future toward which you are growing every single day. 

Shabbat shalom!