Almost every Jew who is involved in communal Jewish living can recall an older Jewish relative (or neighbor) who provided precious memories of Jewish holy days, Sabbaths, and festivals. Whether born Jewish or someone who has chosen to be Jewish, we have all been touched by a grandparent, an in-law, or a dear friend and mentor who invited us over for a Pesah Seder, showed us how to bake a Hallah, or took the time to explain and share the lighting of Hanukkah candles.
It is no exaggeration that those living experiences are essential to instilling a passion for Judaism and the Jewish people. Think, for a moment, of your own life, and you won’t have to search far for someone who was your Jewish role model and ideal. If we’re lucky, we have more than one such person to illumine our lives with Torah and to warm us with the glow of Jewish living.
The stands of Jewish belonging are built one-on-one. Or, in the words of the Talmud, “what comes from the heart enters the heart.” However large our classes on Judaism, however magnificent our central institutions, the key component for transmitting a love of yiddishkeit and Torah is one Jew willing to lavish time, caring, and wisdom on a single seeking soul. The personal touch of Rav (teacher) and talmid (student) has been the vehicle for the transmission of Torah and Jewish identity from its inception.
That person-to-person transmission makes good psychological sense, as we are drawn to communities in which we feel loved, welcomed, and valued. Particularly if that community also offers profundity and beauty to enhance our lives, goodness and values to enrich our morality and our families, we are more likely to respond by drawing near. Such is surely the case for Judaism.
But the individual connection makes theological sense too, and our Torah portion speaks of that human linkage. Today’s Torah portion begins with the statement that “Sarah’s lifetime — the span of Sarah’s life — came to one hundred and twenty-seven years. Sarah died in Kiryat-Arba.” Last week’s portion ended by providing the seemingly unconnected information that “Milkah too has borne children to your brother Nahor:… [including Bethuel,]Bethuel being the father of Rebekah.”
Why did the Torah tell us about the birth of Rebekah prior to informing us of the death of Sarah?
The sages of Midrash Bereshit Rabbah explained this juxtaposition by referring to the curious line from the biblical book Kohelet: “The sun also rises and the sun sets.”
Rabbi Abba said, “Do we then not know that the sun rises and the sun sets? But the meaning is that before the Holy Blessing One causes the sun of one righteous person to set, God causes the sun of another tzaddik to rise.…Before the Holy Blessing One allowed Sarah’s sun to set, God causes that of Rebekah to rise.
Before allowing the righteous Sarah to die, God had already assured the rise of another righteous Matriarch through the birth of Rebekah. Knowing that the health of the Jewish community could not continue without a loving embodiment of its warmth and wisdom, God made sure that a new Matriarch was ready before allowing the old one to journey on.
So it is in our journeys through life. We are Jewish today because of the loving Jews we encountered along the way: grandparents, rabbis, parents, siblings, family friends, neighbors, and acquaintances. Their willingness to reach out to us, to include us in their holy day celebrations, to seat us inside their Sukkah, to feed us at their Seder and to teach us the fundamentals of Torah and its values — they are the reason we know from the inside how wonderful it is to be a Jew. Because someone cared enough to give us the experiences of Jewish living, our hearts can resonate to the sacred cycles of the seasons and of the Sabbaths.
How can we ever repay them? How can we show our deep gratitude and appreciation for those feelings and festivities that add so much to our lives, providing comfort in our grief and adding form to our joy? They are no longer available in our lives, but there still is a way to let them know just how much we value what they gave us. We can pass their gift on to someone else.
Perhaps you know someone interested in becoming Jewish? Maybe you know a Jew who has never experienced the warmth and beauty of a Shabbat service and meal afterward? We were all involved by someone reaching out to us, now it’s our turn to reach out to someone else.
Before the sun sets, the new sun rises. Now, today, it is your light that shines. And now is the time to reach out to someone younger, someone new, someone estranged from their Jewish heritage. Your warmth can yet light their path.
Shabbat shalom.