ESSAY: Entering the Sanctuary of Sarah’s Tent (Parashat Chayei Sarah)

Sarah dies this week, and I’d like to honor her by considering the following tradition about the special features of her tent:

כָּל זְמַן שֶׁשָּׂרָה קַיֶּמֶת הָיָה נֵר דָּלוּק מֵעֶרֶב שַׁבָּת לְעֶרֶב שַׁבָּת וּבְרָכָה מְצוּיָה בָּעִסָּה וְעָנָן קָשׁוּר עַל הָאֹהֶל,
“The whole time Sarah was alive, a candle remained lit from one Sabbath eve to the next Sabbath eve, there was blessing to be found in the dough, and a Cloud was attached to the tent” (Rashi on Genesis 24:67).

A Sanctuary

In other words, Sarah created a sanctuary space.  Indeed, the three features of her ohel, her tent, are reminiscent of aspects of the later communal sanctuary of the mishkan. There was endless light – from one Sabbath to the next – like the eternal light of the Tabernacle’s ner tamid, abundant nourishment like the showbread that lasted all week, and a cloud like the divine Cloud of Glory that also rested on that desert Tent.   Sarah created a private, intimate version of this later, more public tent of divine connection.  

In our parsha, Sarah’s tent becomes a refuge for Yitzhak, and perhaps can be, in this moment and any moment, a refuge for us as well.   Yitzhak has just emerged from the harrowing trauma of the akedah (the binding of Isaac) and returns home to another tragedy, his mother Sarah’s death.  The Torah tells us that it was only when he brought his new bride Rivkah into his mother’s tent that he felt comfort as well as love (Genesis 24:67).  

Like a Womb

We, too, are in need of a matriarch’s comfort and love at this moment, as well as her strength, resilience and faith.   We can enter this inner sanctum and feel how we are loved, protected and held in divine light and care.  Avraham sat at the entrance to the tent, petah ha’ohel, but Sarah dwelled further in, in the inner sanctum of deepest intimacy with the divine, in a space that is womb-like in its continuous nourishment, embracing warmth and light, and surrounding external presence, like the mother’s larger body.  Maybe we can enter such a space and allow ourselves to relax into its care. It is safe here and stable, all your needs are taken care of and there is nothing to worry about.  

We have been holding so tight in worry, fear and sadness, in control and distrust of what happens next.  We are all bound up in knots like Yitzhak was on the akedah.  But now, as we enter into Sarah’s womb-like tent, we can let some of that tension dissolve in the warmth and steadiness of the light that’s here, in the safety of the holding environment, in the sense of hope that pervades this space.  We can let the light undo our knots.  

Remembering the Miraculous

All three of the features of this tent are miraculous, beyond the normal way of the world.  When the world around us becomes full of very real, concrete and seemingly irresolvable conflict, violence and suffering, we need to spend some time in this sanctuary and remember the miraculous, feel that wonder, and restore our faith in the Beyond, in mystery, in miracles, in another plane of existence.  Situating yourself in that place of wonder right now, beholding the miraculous in your mind’s own eye, seeing that otherworldly light and presence and abundant nourishment, entering the realm where you can access and behold those, letting yourself taste that glory.  It is so hidden in our world sometimes, like a sun hidden by clouds, never absent, but so hidden to us.  This tent of Sarah’s offers us a glimpse, a taste, a reminder, so that we are strengthened and filled with faith and hope.  

And while we are here in the embrace of Sarah’s miraculous tent, we can set the intention to see more of the miraculous in this world, to carry this glimmer out with us and turn it into a pair of glasses through which to see the world, to help us notice the little miracles that are always present among us, hiding beneath and amidst the trouble.  

Feature #1: The Eternal Light Inside Us

Unpacking each of the three special features now separately, we can start with the ner daluk, this candle that stays lit all through the week.  There is inside each of us such a ner tamid, an eternal light that never goes out.  You are thrown about in life like a roller coaster through joys and difficulties, up and down, and all throughout, there is this steady light burning somewhere inside you.  At times, you are completely unaware of it.  It feels to you like you have lost all center, all hope, that you have no capacity at all to continue, it does seem like that to you sometimes.  But that is not the whole story.  There is also always in you this ner tamid, this light that does not go out, deep, deep inside you, in that inner sanctum where Sarah dwelled.  There may be obstacles and curtains, clouds and resistance; that’s ok, you can sweep those gently aside with patience, perseverance and faith until you come to that place deep inside you where the candle is indeed still and always lit.

This light is a shabbat light.  It carries the rest and peace and stillness of shabbat through the week for us.  We are so activated and busy, but this light reminds us that we have this steady restful center.  We can pause amidst our frantic lives to come into that perfect womb like stillness and simply rest and be taken care of. 

Feature #2: Outpouring of Blessing

And somehow out of this stillness comes growth, like a plant from the dark quiet earth sprouting and blossoming into the world.  This is the second of the three features of Sarah’s tent – brachah metzuyah ba’isah.  A blessing of abundance is found in the dough.   In the dough, in the seed, in the potential, out of that potential, grows blessing, fruitfulness, abundance, the dough rises into something more; like a fetus carefully held in its womb, nurtured and protected to foster growth, we grow in this tent, we become stronger and more resilient.  We emerge with new ideas, with creativity and energy and maybe even some joy, like we are born into the world anew or like a plant sprouting flowers.   This brachah, this “blessing,” has an overflow quality.  We share it outward; it radiates out of all of our pores into the world, the light, the peace, the love and the nourishment.  

Feature #3: The Cloud Attached to Our Own Tents

The third and final feature of Sarah’s tent is anan kashur al ha’ohel, “a cloud attached to the tent,” the cloud of Glory, the divine presence, ephemeral yet real.  We, too, have such a cloud of presence around our tents, around our bodies.  Maybe you can get a sense of it, like an aura that surrounds you, perhaps manifesting as a guardian angel.  Sometimes we can get glimpses of such an energy, a divine accompaniment that hovers around us and is kashur, securely attached, steadfast in its commitment to each one of us.  This, too, girds us in times of difficulty.

Comfort

Putting all of these together, we experience, like Yitzhak, some nechamah, some comfort (24:67).   Maybe you can sense how deeply you are in need of such comfort right now, of a place that feels safe and nourishing, hopeful and full of light, how this place of sanctuary inside you helps you relax and comforts you in all your grief, sadness, worry and despair. We take comfort in this space, this ohel, this refuge, comfort in its mere existence.  This place, too, is a reality of our world; the truth is not just the trouble, but also this refuge of Sarah and of our own inner indwelling.

Love

The other thing that happens for Yitzhak in this ohel with his new wife is vaye’ehavah, “he loved her (24:67),” the first such statement in the Torah of anyone.  This is the power of Sarah’s tent.  It strengthens our capacity for love.  In the safety and warmth of this space, our hearts open to each other.  We are each sitting in our own tents, our own bodies, and at the same time, we are also building a joint ohel, a joint sanctuary of light and care and love.  From within that space, we can send brachah, an outpouring of blessing to the world, blessings of shabbat peace and maternal nourishment and love. And those blessings can heal the world. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but slowly, energetically, each of us contributing the power of our own inner Sarah’s tent. Chayei Sarah, our parsha name, is plural, meaning, “the lives of Sarah.” Sarah’s spirit continues to live inside each one of us.

Photo by Cliford Mervil at Pexels