Chayei Sarah — What Is the True Nature of Our Desire?

Almost every commentator who discusses Chayei Sarah points out the same apparent contradiction. The portion is called The Life of Sarah, yet it opens with her death.

Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica, in the Mei HaShiloach, offers a beautiful interpretation. He explains that the life of a righteous person is directed toward knowing God, and that this knowledge represents connection, or devekut, cleaving to the Creator. When Sarah completed her years in the physical world, her true life began.

This makes me think about the purpose of our physical existence. If our soul comes into this world with a particular tikkun, a correction to accomplish, and through that correction we move closer to the Creator, then perhaps the completion of our earthly life is also the beginning of something eternal.

The story of Sarah's death becomes even more interesting when we look at the different explanations offered by our sages.

In Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, we are told that Sammael, frustrated by his inability to prevent Abraham from completing the binding of Isaac, went to Sarah and told her that Abraham had sacrificed their son. Sarah cried out, and her soul departed.

The Zohar offers another dimension, describing Sarah's passing in terms of her extraordinary spiritual standing. Her death was understood through a reality that extended beyond the physical body.

I find myself thinking about the possibility that Sarah had completed what she came into this world to accomplish. She had raised Isaac, instilling in him the ability to surrender himself to the will of the Creator. At the binding, Isaac demonstrated the depth of that commitment.

Perhaps Sarah's work had reached its completion.

And this takes me to something else that has been occupying my thoughts: the qualities we develop, the way we use them, and how even our greatest strengths can become obstacles.

Abraham is traditionally associated with chesed, loving-kindness and generosity. Yet his kindness didn't mean that he was incapable of setting boundaries.

Remember when the three visitors arrived at his tent? Abraham asked them to wash their feet before entering. Rashi explains that Abraham believed they worshipped the dust of their feet, and he didn't want idolatry brought into his home.

He was willing to welcome strangers and provide for their needs, while remaining firm about what he would allow inside his household.

But what happened when Sarah saw a problem developing between Ishmael and Isaac?

Abraham was distressed by Sarah's demand to send Hagar and Ishmael away. God eventually instructed Abraham to listen to Sarah, acknowledging her judgment concerning Isaac.

This makes me wonder why Abraham could establish boundaries so clearly in one circumstance, yet struggle to do so in another.

Was it because his emotional attachment to Ishmael made the situation more difficult? Was his desire to protect and provide for both sons influencing his judgment?

I don't pretend to know Abraham's internal motives. But the question itself is worth examining because we experience something similar in our own lives.

We can be perfectly clear about what needs to be done in one situation and completely confused in another.

Now consider Isaac.

Isaac is traditionally associated with gevurah, restraint, discipline, and boundaries. His willingness to submit himself at the binding demonstrates an extraordinary capacity to surrender.

But I wonder whether restraint can sometimes become so dominant that taking initiative becomes difficult.

When it is time for Isaac to marry, Abraham takes responsibility for finding him a wife. He sends his trusted servant, traditionally identified as Eliezer, to find the appropriate woman.

And Eliezer is quite a character.

Back in Lech Lecha, when Abraham went to rescue his nephew Lot, the Torah tells us that he gathered 318 men. The Talmud offers an interpretation that those 318 men were actually Eliezer alone, since the numerical value of his name is 318.

Another Midrash tells us that Eliezer and Ishmael argued over who would inherit Abraham's possessions if Isaac were sacrificed.

Yet Abraham entrusts this servant with the responsibility of finding a wife for Isaac.

Eliezer arrives at a well and asks God for a sign. The woman who offers him water and voluntarily offers to water his camels will be the one he recognizes as suitable for Isaac.

And Rebecca does precisely that.

She gives Eliezer water and then offers to draw water for all ten camels.

Now, if you know anything about camels, you know that a thirsty camel can drink an enormous amount of water. Imagine drawing enough water for ten of them!

Rebecca demonstrates generosity through action. She sees a need and responds without waiting to be asked.

What a beautiful complement to Isaac's restraint.

This is where the importance of balance becomes so clear to me.

Any quality, even a wonderful one, can become problematic when expressed without balance. Generosity without boundaries can become self-neglect. Restraint without flexibility can become paralysis.

Even water, which we need to survive, can become dangerous when consumed in excessive quantities.

The same principle applies to the qualities of our character.

And yet there is something deeper here that I want to explore.

What determines whether we actually act on something we believe is right?

Why can we believe in a cause so wholeheartedly that we pursue it without caring what anybody thinks of us, while at other times we believe just as strongly in something and become paralyzed by how others might perceive us?

What changes?

I have been thinking about this because of something that happened when I began teaching physical education at our local Hebrew Academy.

When I started, there was no gym. There wasn't even a designated space for physical education. I was given the lobby of the library.

Sometimes the lobby was being used for meetings, so I would arrive to teach my class and first have to remove tables, clear leftover coffee cups, and clean spilled syrup from the floor.

Whatever time remained was what I had available to teach.

I thought this was completely unacceptable.

I believed then, as I believe today, that physical strength and spiritual strength belong together. If we were investing so much effort in educating children spiritually and intellectually, why weren't we giving their physical development the same attention?

So I started pushing for a proper space.

And I kept pushing.

I encountered resistance. I am sure some people thought I was being obsessive. But I didn't particularly care what they thought of me.

I believed in the importance of what I was proposing, and I was willing to do whatever I reasonably could to make it happen.

Eventually, we secured the necessary support and funding.

We went from a dirty library lobby to a fully equipped gym.

I watched an idea become a physical reality.

Looking back, I realize something interesting about my determination.

I had nothing personally to gain from the project. The gym belonged to the school. The children would benefit from it. I wasn't building something for myself.

My desire felt completely clear.

But what happens when I pursue another project that I believe in just as strongly, knowing that its success could also bring me personal or material gain?

Suddenly, I begin questioning my intentions.

Am I doing this because I genuinely believe in what I am creating? Or am I motivated by the possibility of benefiting from it?

And if I benefit from it, does that somehow compromise the sincerity of my desire?

I don't have a simple answer.

Perhaps the possibility of personal gain makes us more conscious of how we are being perceived. Perhaps we become afraid that others will question our motives, and we begin questioning them ourselves.

But I also wonder whether we are confusing having a personal interest with having an impure intention.

After all, why should receiving something in return automatically invalidate the goodness of what we are trying to accomplish?

This brings me back to Abraham and Sarah.

Abraham's capacity for kindness remained part of who he was, even when the circumstances demanded restraint. Sarah's willingness to establish boundaries served a purpose that she understood as necessary.

Their actions invite us to examine whether we are responding to what a situation genuinely requires or allowing our attachments to influence our judgment.

And Rebecca, standing at the well, offers another perspective.

She saw a need and responded.

She didn't spend the afternoon wondering what Eliezer thought of her generosity. She simply drew the water.

Perhaps this is something we can learn to recognize in ourselves.

When we hesitate to pursue something meaningful, we can examine what is actually preventing us from moving forward.

Is the desire itself unclear? Are we concerned about the consequences? Are we afraid of being judged? Or have we become so preoccupied with proving the purity of our intentions that we have stopped acting altogether?

These are questions worth asking because they bring us closer to understanding ourselves.

And perhaps that is part of our tikkun: developing enough awareness to recognize when our strongest qualities are serving us, when they have become obstacles, and when our attachment to an outcome is preventing us from seeing clearly.

Sarah's life reminds us that spiritual growth is a lifelong process. Her story invites us to consider what it means to complete the work entrusted to us.

For those of us still here, that work continues.

And maybe the most practical question we can ask ourselves is:

If I genuinely believe this is the right thing to do, what is stopping me from doing it?

Sources and References

Primary texts and commentary cited in the essay. Interpretive reflections and the personal experience are the author’s own.

- Genesis 23:1–2. Opening account of Sarah’s life and death. https://www.sefaria.org/Genesis.23.1-2

- Mei HaShiloach, Volume I, Chayei Sarah, opening discourse. Spiritual life and devekut; interpretive summary in the essay. https://www.sefaria.org/Mei_HaShiloach%2C_Volume_I%2C_Chayei_Sarah

- Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 32:8–9. Sammael’s report to Sarah following the Akedah. https://www.sefaria.org/Pirkei_DeRabbi_Eliezer.32.8-9

- Zohar I, Chayei Sarah 124b. Reflections on the lives and days of the righteous. The essay does not claim the Zohar says Sarah had to die to witness the Akedah. https://www.zoharonline.org/zohar/english/volume-1/chayei-sara/daf-124b/

- Rashi on Genesis 18:4. Abraham’s concern about the dust on his visitors’ feet. https://www.sefaria.org/Rashi_on_Genesis.18.4

- Genesis 21:9–12. Sarah’s concern about Ishmael and God’s instruction to Abraham. https://www.sefaria.org/Genesis.21.9-12

- Genesis 14:14; Nedarim 32a; Rashi on Genesis 14:14. Tradition connecting the 318 men with Eliezer and the gematria of his name. https://www.sefaria.org/Nedarim.32a

- Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 31:5. Dispute between Eliezer and Ishmael over Abraham’s inheritance. https://www.sefaria.org/Pirkei_DeRabbi_Eliezer.31.5

- Genesis 24:10–20; Kli Yakar on Genesis 24:14. Rebecca’s generosity toward the servant and camels; her willingness to go beyond what was asked. https://www.sefaria.org/Kli_Yakar_on_Genesis.24.14