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Parashat Chayei Sarah: Resilience for Peace

Parshat Chayei Sarah begins with the story of Sarah's death and ends with the death of the one who is considered the founding father of the monotheistic confessions: Abraham.

Chayei Sarah is the Parsha that continues after the Akedah, the binding and almost sacrifice of Yitzchak.

 

One of the great admirers of Yitzchak is Elie Wiesel who on multiple occasions confessed how much he values this character, who has known how to get out of the fire and survive the bondage that almost condemned him to death. Yitzhak, for Elie Wiesel, is the first survivor of our history.

 

In a lecture that Wiesel gave when I was a child attending the Bet-El Community of Buenos Aires, he told an anecdote that began as follows:

“My friends: The French writer Jean Cocteau was once asked the following question: if your house were on fire, what would you take out of it first? Cocteau, who was a surrealist poet answered: I would take the fire, of course.

And that's pretty much the story of the Jewish people. Wherever we have gone, we have taken the fire with us. The symbol of our destiny has the strength and texture, the heat and light of fire. It began with the sacrifice of Yitzchak on Mount Moriah; it continued in the desert when Moses saw the burning bush that was not consumed, then in the wilderness at Sinai and continued the same fire illuminating our people. Sometimes to our favor and other times to our affliction. The temple was a temple of fire.

During the Inquisition in Spain, Jews died by fire and in our own time we have seen another fire, still burning and never consumed.”

 

It is particularly painful to see and hear figures of moral relevance, such as Pope Francis, when they make such grave statements as calling Israel's actions in Gaza “genocide.” Beyond political or strategic differences, this expression not only misrepresents reality, but legitimizes hateful narratives that encourage violence and polarization by igniting internal fires. Such words ignore the historical context and the legitimate struggle for survival in the face of terrorism, trivializing the suffering and sacrifice of the Jewish people.

 

Equally alarming is the recent decision of the International Criminal Court in The Hague, which seems more motivated by political interests than by a rigorous analysis of the facts. Such decisions discredit institutions whose purpose should be to protect universal human rights and justice. Instead, they sow distrust and feed the feeling of isolation of those of us who seek to defend our right to exist.

 

The indictment of Pope Francis and the decisions of the International Criminal Court are examples of how narrative can be manipulated to perpetuate prejudice and deny fundamental rights. They only light fires.

 

Indeed; today we ask ourselves how do we remove the fire that is setting our hearts on fire; real fires that fly over the Land of Israel and fires of hatred in hearts on both sides of this never ending war.

 

Yitzchak is saved from the fire of a blind faith that made his father believe that killing a son would prove his faithfulness to God. He is saved from the knife. He does not save his relationship with his father. Abraham ends the last parashah by returning from the mountain alone.

 

Yitzchak, we will know later, goes alone, to meditate -some say- to the countryside. I believe that there is no possible rationality that allows us to process what his eyes saw. He leaves because he is lost, distressed, dismayed. His father, whom he loves and respects, has just broken the most sacred thing: that bond that exists and that we must take care of between father or mother and children. Abraham and Yitzchak separated.

In this context, that father who also registers that his bond will be broken forever, tries to repair in love, sending his servant, Eliezer to find the best of women for his son to marry and start a new life.

 

Now, Yitzchak had returned from the Well of the Living One Who Sees Me (Beer Lachai Roi), for he lived in the Negev region. One afternoon, he went out for a walk in the countryside. Suddenly, when he looked up, he saw camels approaching. Rivkah also looked up, saw Yitzchak, got down from the camel and asked the servant, “Who is this man who is coming across the field to meet us? -It is my master,” answered the servant. Then she took the veil and covered herself. The servant told Yitzchak all that she had done. Then Yitzchak took Rivkah to the tent of Sarah, his mother, and took her as his wife. Yitzchak loved Rivkah and thus consoled himself for the death of his mother.” (Bereishit-Genesis 27:62-66)

 

Yitzchak had returned from the “Well of the Living One who sees me” (Be'er Lachai Roi)....Yitzchak is returning from an identified place in the area. A well already mentioned in a past story.

 

In chapter 16 of Bereishit, it is Hagar, the second wife who had been expelled from Abraham's house because of Sarah's jealousy, who manages to see the well of water that the Lord shows her, opening her eyes in despair at the possibility of seeing her son Ishmael die in the middle of the desert. Hagar sees the well and names it Beer Lachjai Roi, the Well of the Living One who sees me.

 

Rashi puts together the two portions of the story that seem to “coincidentally” mention the same well and explains, “For he had gone there to bring Hagar back to Abraham so that he could take her back as his wife” (Genesis Rabbah 60:14).

Ovadia Sforno (a 15th-16th century comentator) adds that he went there “To say a prayer at the place where the prayer of Hagar, his mother's maidservant, had been answered.”

 

This is not a minor fact. That well connects two people who are in pain, in disaffection, in abandonment. Hagar and Yitzchak, who belong to two stories that today are at odds.

Our exegetes already understood that having returned from that well repaired the fire that left them both at risk. Either because he returned to look for it to return to the house; as Rashi explains, or because he needed to return there to join prayers, to be seen by that God who sees everyone. Not only the people of Israel, but ALL.

 

How do we get rid of the fire?

 

In this climate, talk of peace and understanding requires acknowledging wounds and seeking ways to rebuild bridges. Although the current outlook seems bleak, resilience lies not only in defending ourselves from external attacks, but also in keeping alive the values of justice, truth and humanity that form the core of our identity.

 

It is vital to demand the immediate release of the hostages, to support those who have been displaced from their homes, and to clearly confront international organizations that, instead of promoting peace, perpetuate anti-Semitic narratives.

 

Parshat Chayei Sarah culminates in a deeply symbolic moment: the reunion of Yitzchak and Yishmael to bury their father, Abraham. This act, loaded with meaning, transcends the differences and conflicts that may have separated them in the past, showing us that, even in times of loss and pain, it is possible to find unity and reconciliation.

 

In the current context, this message takes on a heartbreaking relevance.

Despite hatred, polarizing discourses and violence, the reunion of Yitzhak and Ishmael reminds us that reconciliation is not just an ideal, but a possibility that requires will and commitment. They managed to re-unite to honor their father,

 

We should aspire to build bridges between peoples, without renouncing to truth and justice, if we truly believe that even in times of deep pain, there is room for gestures of humanity that can sow the seeds of a more promising future.

 

SHABBAT SHALOM UMEBORACH


Rabbi Gustavo Geier

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