Every change in life carries with it an inherent element of sorrow and sadness. Our sages, of blessed memory, have offered profound insights into the significance of mourning and tears, providing us with a rich spiritual tradition that sheds light on the depth of human emotions.
The Talmud (Shabbat 105b) teaches that anyone who weeps over the passing of a righteous person has all their sins forgiven. Rabbi Yehuda underscores the importance of delivering a proper eulogy, stating that one who neglects to eulogize a Torah scholar appropriately deserves harsh consequences.
In this week’s Torah portion, the verse states: “And Abraham came to mourn for Sarah and to weep for her” (Genesis 23:2). The unique feature in the text—a small letter “kaf” in the word “to weep”—calls for explanation. The commentaries note that Abraham wept only a little for Sarah and did not engage in excessive mourning. This raises a question: why not? Was Sarah not a great righteous woman?
The Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni, Parashat Noach) describes Sarah as “Yiscah,” a woman enveloped by divine inspiration. Given her extraordinary righteousness, why did Abraham not mourn her more deeply?
The Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 16b) reveals a profound truth: there are four actions that can overturn a harsh decree—charity, prayer, a change of name, and a change of deeds. These are spiritual forces capable of erasing divine decrees. Change, even for the better, inherently brings sadness, as it disrupts the comfort of the familiar.
The moment of death—the transition from this world to the next—is typically a challenging and traumatic experience. However, Sarah, who lived in holiness and divine inspiration, experienced no significant change. For her, the physical and spiritual realms were seamlessly united.
The verse’s use of the small “kaf” in “to weep” signifies that Abraham mourned only minimally because Sarah’s departure was not a cause for great sorrow. She transitioned peacefully to a realm of eternal comfort and serenity, free from pain or difficulty.
A person who strives to live a life of holiness, balancing material and spiritual realms, achieves a life of harmony and completeness. Just as Sarah lived a life of sanctity, we too should aim to merge joy and sorrow, the physical and the spiritual, into one harmonious existence.
This is the legacy of Sarah, and it serves as a guide for us to lead balanced, peaceful, and spiritually enriched lives.
This article was written in cooperation with Shuva Israel