Genesis 25:19 – 28:9
As we celebrate Thanksgiving, Americans will gather around our tables to give thanks for the blessings which surround and infuse our lives, but what exactly is a blessing?
According to the dictionary, there are four distinct types of blessing:

1. A prayer asking for God’s favor and protection
2. A grace said before or after a meal
3. A beneficial thing for which one is grateful; something that brings well-being
4. A person’s sanction or support

In Judaism, we have a fifth category: a prayer before performing an act which brings us closer to God or which focuses our gratitude in a particular way (such as the blessing before lighting Shabbat candles or upon seeing a rainbow).

We might think that with five different categories now defined, we would fully understand our “blessings.” However, how could we really know what a blessing is without first checking with the Torah? In this week’s parasha, Isaac is recognized by the Philistines as being blessed by God:

Rabbi David Greenstein asks if Isaac’s status of being blessed is merely acknowledged here, or is it activated because of the conclusion of a peace treaty? In other words, does the blessing flow from heaven or from us?

The same ambiguity clings to the blessing which Isaac gives (or tries to give) to Esau. Rebecca overhears Isaac command Esau to hunt venison for him “so that my soul shall bless you before I die.” [Gen. 27:4] Isaac makes no mention of God to Esau, but when Rebecca tells Jacob (and plots with Jacob to steal the blessing) she adds God language to the description. Is the blessing from Isaac or is Isaac an instrument of God for the transmission of the blessing?

The answer to all these questions is yes. Blessings come from heaven and they come from us. We are surrounded every day by countless blessings, some from God and some from each other.

According to Jewish tradition, we recite a series of blessings each morning to offer thanks in recognition that each new day, no matter what happens in it, is actually a gift. We recognize that our bodies are incredibly complex and delicate, and we are given an opportunity to sense the wonder and amazement of our existence. We offer thanks for our minds and our souls, and for the miracles which surround us each day – all gifts from Heaven.

Similarly, the rabbis teach us to be mindful if the blessings we receive from each other:

​Judaism does not distinguish different kinds of blessings in the same way as the dictionary, but our definition is encompassing and wide, and more than anything, we are taught that Thanksgiving does not come just once a year, but for us, is a daily celebration of the miracle of life.

Genesis 23:1 – 25:18
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From the title of our parasha, Chayei Sarah, we would assume that the portion is about the life of Sarah, because Chayei Sarah literally means ‘the life of Sarah.’ How surprising then, is the opening verse:

Even more, the Torah also records the death of Abraham towards the end of the portion. Why then is this parasha called the Life of Sarah and not the death of Sarah (and Abraham)? Perhaps it is as simple as this: thousands of years later, we remember Sarah and Abraham not because they died, but because they lived.
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All of us will eventually die. We cannot change that fact. What we can control, however, is how we live. 

Genesis 18:1 – 22:24

It’s a miracle! Or rather it will be. In this week’s parasha, VaYeira, three angels approach Abraham with a promise from God: despite the fact that both Abraham and Sarah are advanced in age and she has been barren her entire life, next year she shall give birth to their son.
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If you were Sarah, how would you react? 

I love this verse. First, please note that she is not saying anything about her ability to get pregnant. Sure, she may be well past menopause, but, at least on surface, this seems to be about more about Abraham than Sarah. It is almost as if Sarah is saying: “With that old guy? Are you kidding?”

Let’s take a closer look at the Hebrew, or rather, one specific word. ‘Ednah’ means ‘pleasure,’ and shares a root with Eden, as in the Garden. Eden is Paradise. Sarah is laughing to herself (and then is embarrassed when she is called out for it) about Abraham’s ability, as such an old man, to bring her to “paradise” so that she can conceive.

Sarah may seem a bit snarky here, but this is Torah and there is remarkable wisdom contained in this little snark. Forget that Sarah too is quite old and it would take a miracle for her to get pregnant in any circumstance. For Sarah, there is a direct causality between paradise/pleasure and pregnancy. Abraham must bring Sarah to Paradise, to the Garden – only then will she be able to conceive.

On the surface, this seems to be simply about sex … except it isn’t.

Their relationship has been difficult, to say the least. On two separate occasions, once in Egypt and once in Canaan, Abraham asked Sarah to lie about their relationship as husband and wife, and each time she was taken to the palace of the pharaoh/king to become a concubine. At no point do we hear Sarah’s voice in these stories, but it couldn’t have been good for their marriage. When we finally do hear Sarah speak, it is from a place of deep pain. She is barren, and it wounds her to the point where she commands Abraham to take her female slave Hagar to bear his child on Sarah’s behalf. When Hagar gives birth to Ishmael, she beings to taunt Sarah, and Sarah eventually drives both Hagar and Ishmael from the camp.

What do we really know about Sarah? At a minimum, her life was far removed from anything resembling paradise, the lush Garden.
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Here in VaYeira, Sarah expresses her pain again, this time through laughter and mockery. Her life has been hard, and she has suffered for so many years that she has become dry and withered – and has done so as Abraham’s wife. She is like a tree in the desert, which can find no water. Yet, in the midst of her pain, she may also be wondering -- could things actually change?

Bringing a child into the world should be an act of love, and of faith in the future. It is difficult to imagine that Sarah had either. She may have seriously doubted, because they were so set in their ways (“with my husband so old”) that anything could change. How could she possibly conceive and give birth without love or hope?

Yet, the angel’s prediction, God’s promise, came true. One year later Sarah brought Isaac into the world.
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What if the miracle wasn’t just that an old woman got pregnant and birthed a healthy boy? What if the miracle was also that two people, old and set in their ways, somehow managed –with God’s help – to leave the parched desert and find their Garden together?