Chayei Sarah 5785: An Urge to Merge

GOOD MORNING!  When I first began teaching unaffiliated Jews in the 1990’s, one of the biggest challenges I faced was trying to convince them to marry young. In vain (mostly) I tried to explain that they should want to be young parents; firstly, you need all the strength of youth to raise children. Secondly, starting off as a young parent allows you to interact with your children as a more relatable parent.

Lastly, if you start out young enough, then you get a chance to fully experience the joys of being a grandparent and the opportunity to really get to know your grandchildren. Unfortunately, many of my students waited until their late 30’s or early 40’s to seriously pursue relationships that could potentially lead to marriage. They had many excuses for this; some wanted to be “financially secure” or to “really experience life” before settling down, etc.

But the passage of time is immutable; it dictates much of what our life is to be, and it does not wait for us to catch up. It eventually robs us of youth and once it passes there is no way of getting it back.

I have often reflected upon the fact that, had I not decided to lead a religious life, I too would have undoubtedly chased all sorts of material dreams and pleasures, and missed so much of what I now appreciate and enjoy in my late fifties. Being within a religious framework also affords the opportunity to learn from the wisdom of generations past and incorporate their value systems into your life. Sometimes their wisdom is even dispensed with hilarity.

I remember when I got engaged, Rabbi David Lehrfield – who had been one of my high school teachers and had an AMAZING sense of humor – told me, “I am going tell you two things about marriage: 1) Before you’re married you’re only half a person, and once you’re married, you’re finished! 2) There are three rings in every marriage: the engagement ring, the wedding ring, and the suffering.”

Professor Walter Russel Mead in his outstanding book The Arc of a Covenant points out that the Old Testament is about three times the size of the New Testament. Part of the reason for that, in his view, is that the Five Books of Moses, Prophets, and Scriptures inform us on much more than just laws and philosophy, they are actually a guidebook for living EVERY aspect of one’s life. This week’s Torah portion, according to the Talmud, informs us of a key element of marriage.

The Talmud (Kiddushin 2a) delineates three alternate procedures for the formation of a marriage. One of those procedures is for a man to give an item of value to a woman with the stated intention that, upon her acceptance, she is betrothed to him. Nowadays we generally use a ring for this purpose, and the groom places the ring on the bride’s finger under the chuppah – the marriage canopy. Upon her acceptance, they are officially married.

The sages of the Talmud ask, from where in the Torah is it derived that transferring an item of value is a valid means by which to effectuate a marriage?

The sages derive this procedure from the fact that the Torah uses identical verbiage by two seemingly disparate concepts and then, through a process similar to a word analogy, the sages apply the details of one to the other. This is one of the thirteen methods of scriptural analysis that the Almighty passed on to Moses to instruct the Jewish people in interpreting of the Torah.

The Torah (Exodus 2:1) informs us of the marriage of Moses’ parents and uses the Hebrew term kichah (“taking” or “acquiring”) to describe its initiation. In this week’s Torah portion the same root word – “kach” – is used in reference to the story in which our forefather Abraham purchases a burial plot for his wife, our foremother Sarah. The sages thus tie these two stories together, as we shall see.

Abraham desired to purchase a very specific burial plot for Sarah, but it was owned by a man named Efron, and Efron was not particularly enthusiastic about selling his field. Nevertheless, Abraham was able to convince him, and after they struck a deal on the amount Abraham said, “I have given the money for the field; take (“kach”) it from me” (Genesis 23:13).

Thus, the Torah records that this transaction, which caused the field to change hands, was enacted through monetary means (Abraham handing Efron a large sum of money), and the sages applied the same transactional principle as one of the three ways to initiate a marriage. Essentially, the Talmud derives the laws of marriage from the purchase of a burial plot.

There is no “happenstance” in the Torah. By drawing a link between marriage and burial, the Torah clearly seeks to teach us something. Ignoring the rather humorous connotations that spring to mind, what is the message the Torah is trying to teach us about the essence of marriage?

One of the more serious societal ills of our time is the fundamental misunderstanding of what a marriage is supposed to be. Our “modern” world views marriage as a partnership between two individuals.

This perspective on marriage is wrong as it reduces marriage to a synergetic business relationship. In other words, a business partnership is formed when two individuals agree that it is in the best interest of each party to “team up” so that, together, they can achieve more than if they were on their own. This synergy is known as 1+1=3.

The issue with treating a marriage like a partnership is that as soon as one of the “partners” feels that the relationship is no longer beneficial to their personal interests the knee jerk reaction is to dissolve it. This reflex to pivot to dissolution is an outgrowth of another unhealthy moral value that grips our culture – the idea that everything is disposable and therefore very little effort should be expended to fix or mend something that is broken or tangled.

Anyone who grew up in the 60’s, 70’s, or 80’s will remember that every street had TV repair shops, computer repair shops, shoe repair shops, and tailors to mend clothes. Today they are long gone – which is okay – the problem is that they are completely forgotten. Meaning, there is no value assigned, and very little effort made, to trying to fix or mend anything – we simply go on Amazon and order a new one. Is it any wonder that society has become accustomed to treating personal relationships the same way?

This problem is further compounded by an incorrect understanding of what marriage is supposed to be. Judaism doesn’t view marriage as a partnership – because partnerships are always comprised of two individuals who are looking out for their own interests; as long as their individual interests continue to align, the partnership is useful to both and continues.

Rather, the Torah views marriage as an everlasting merger. In a merger two entities become one. In a single entity each member looks out for the interest of the relationship in its entirety, not just their individual interests. A merger is almost impossible to unravel.

This view of marriage is analogous to creating a plate of food with a piece of chicken, rice, and green beans. Together they are a much more appetizing meal than they would be if eaten separately. But because they are not merged, they can also be easily divided if say you no longer like green beans.

By contrast, a merger creates a truly singular identity and is similar to taking flour, water, yeast, salt, and sugar and baking a bread. Once it’s baked it’s basically impossible to deconstruct or remove any one ingredient. Marriage should not be a combination of two entities; a healthy marriage is an entirely new, merged, single entity.

The Torah is teaching us the essence of what a marriage is supposed to be and explains why the laws of marriage are associated with the purchase of a burial plot. After all, why is it that a husband and wife are supposed to be buried together? After a married couple has lived happily together for an entire lifetime, doesn’t the death of one spouse sever the relationship?

The answer, of course, is that it does not. Since marriage is an eternal relationship, a married couple remains bound together – even after their deaths, buried side by side. In order to demonstrate the true nature of marriage, the Torah derives its laws from a place that indicates its eternal character: the purchase of a burial plot for the “first couple” Abraham and his wife Sarah.

As I mentioned last week, I have been giving classes to groups of young Jewish Millennials and Gen Z-ers and their attitude gives me hope. They are, perhaps unsurprisingly, totally different from the young adults I taught in the 90’s. Among these groups there is a new sense of urgency to find a proper mate and begin a family. In the last two weeks alone two of my “students” have gotten engaged.

More importantly, within these groups at least, they are deeply engaging with their Judaism. It’s no longer an attitude of: “How does Judaism fit into my life?” Rather it’s an attitude of: “How can I make my life fit within my commitment to Judaism?” It inspires hope for the future of the Jewish people and the continuation of our forefather’s marriage mergers.

Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1 – 25:18

Sarah dies at the age of 127. Abraham purchases a burial place for her in Hebron in the cave of Ma’arat HaMachpela. Abraham sends his servant, Eliezer, back to the “old country,” his birthplace Charan, to find a wife for Isaac (Yitzchak). Eliezer makes what appear to be very strange conditions for the matrimonial candidate to fulfill in order to qualify for Isaac. Rebecca (Rivka) unknowingly meets the conditions. Eliezer succeeds in getting familial approval, though they were not too keen about Rebecca leaving her native land.

Abraham marries Keturah and fathers six more sons. He sends them east (with the secrets of mysticism) before he dies at 175. Isaac and Ishmael bury Abraham near Sarah in Ma’arat HaMachpela. The portion ends with the listing of Ishmael’s 12 sons and Ishmael dying at age 137.