Life and Death With a Broken Heart: a strategy of consent with depression
by Harper Hazelmare
Printer-friendly version of the text
Immediately following the binding of Isaac (the Akedah) – the son of Sarah and Abraham (and whom Sarah bore in old age) – the Torah portion Chayei Sarah begins by stating Sarah has died at the age of 127 years. It is laid out with clarity in the Torah how Abraham bewailed the dead Sarah, as surely as Sarah must have cried out for her son. But what of her journey of grief, mourning, and dying? Where is that written in the Torah? We need comfort and healing no matter the loss, and the lack of Sarah’s consent to the Akedah is as palpable as the grief for her perceived slain son. While Isaac did not die, Sarah had no knowledge of this and wept with her heart broken for the ascertained death of her child. So it is with the immediate alienation of grief and death, that separateness which strikes to create an isolation much like the deepest depression; it swallowed her whole. Did she die of a broken heart? We might well assume so from the story beyond the words of the Torah.
It is written in midrash that at the same moment Abraham heard the voice of G-d, dropped his knife, and did not slay his son, Satan disguised himself as Issac and came before Sarah. She saw him and asked, “My son, what has your father done to you?” He answered, “My father took me and made me climb up mountains and go down valleys and he made me climb up a certain mountain, and built an altar. He set up the altar and arranged the kindling and bound me on the altar. He then took a knife to slaughter me. If the Holy One had not called out, ‘Do not cast your hand on this boy,’ I would have been slaughtered” (Rabbi Tanhuma, Vayera 23). “She began to weep and cry aloud . . . and her soul fled, and she died.” (Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer) Thus, the six cries of Sarah equate to the six blasts of the shofar, forlorn and longing and mournful. She was purposefully blinded to the truth, her agency revoked.
“Our grief makes us a stranger to life,” says Rabbi Shefa Gold. Perhaps it is the combination of lack of consent plus mortally wounding grief that results in the most dark depression.
Abraham, when he finally rose from beside Sarah’s dead body, asked the Hittites for permission to bury her; he had to be told repeatedly that this was acceptable and welcomed in their land as they had no quarrel with him. Abraham purchased the cave and field of Machpelah for this purpose despite being told that it would be freely given; he knew he was an outsider and wanted to deal fairly with the Hittites (“I am a resident alien among you.”). The Hittites revered him, yet Abraham could not see this through the thick layer of grief that enshrouded him.
Grief is much like depression, the syrup of negativity which cages our minds, our ability to make sound decisions, and the stickiness of thoughts trapped within us. This grief, this depression of self befalls us and we spiral down deeper into our own cave of absence. An uncertain void of perception traps us for what feels like eternity. It is a cruel conundrum: unawareness and oblivion yet brutal pain as our views alter to be made aware of everything being wrong. Being submerged in depression may well be the very darkest of grief, since it is a mourning of ourselves.
The next decision Abraham has to make gets him outside of himself and his darkness, away just enough from the sunkenness he is experiencing. Though his grief lingers, he has surfaced enough to have concern for Isaac’s mourning. Abraham tells his servant to “go to the land of my birth and get a wife for my son Isaac,” to which his servant replies, “What if this woman does not consent to follow me to this land . . . ?” To which Abraham replies, “ . . . If the woman does not consent to follow you, you shall then be clear of this oath to me . . .” Perhaps Abraham has deeply learned about the power of consent at this point and what the lack of it can cause.
When the servant of Abraham reached the city of Nahor, he was of clear mind and heart despite being worried that he might not know which woman was the right choice for Isaac. He was unburdened by the grief and subsequent depression which brought low Abraham and Isaac. The servant prayed as in conversation with G-d, as in meditation upon G-d, and asked G-d, “ . . . Grant me good fortune this day, and deal graciously with my master Abraham: Here I stand by the spring as the daughters of the townspeople come out to draw water; let the maiden to whom I say, ‘Please lower your jar that I may drink,’ and who replies, ‘Drink, and I will also water your camels’–-let her be the one whom You have decreed for Your servant Isaac. Thereby shall I know that You have dealt graciously with my master.” No sooner had he uttered these words than the maiden Rebekah appeared and gave him and his camels water to drink. As people living in harmony, rather than despair, the servant asked for less than he needed and Rebekah provided with more than his needs. So it is with all of us unencumbered by scarcity in the mind and heart.
Rebekah brought the servant to her brother, Laban, who made a deal with the servant to come into their home and spend the night, reminiscent of Abraham’s offer of the cave and field in which to bury his dead Sarah. The servant, unclouded, was able to accept this offer with ease. His camels were given straw and feed, his feet were washed, and he was given food. The servant was living in abundance rather than loss.
Rebekah clearly gave her consent—and was given the opportunity to do so—to go with the servant of Abraham with a firm, “I will.” She was as clear of mind and heart as was the servant, for no grief touched her and nothing darkened her agency. Her subsequent arrival to Isaac offered comfort to him, which in turn reignited the flame of love, allowing him to rise from his deep depression and return to the being of higher self; “ . . . fortifying the small self, we lose access to our own essence.” (Rabbi Shefa Gold)
Healing from grief/depression, the loss of self, the lack of consent in regards to what is happening to self, is given the shape of love in this portion. To be able to love again, the grieving Isaac marries and Abraham remarries, begetting numerous children. By finding love again, they are once again able to be of service, to create legacy as evidenced by Abraham’s 175 years and the great blessing of being surrounded by his kin at the time of his death. Abraham was returned to Sarah, being buried beside her. Isaac and his father Abraham had finally sought “the open field” by la-su’ach, the meditation or prayer–-a conversation with G-d. La-su'ach literally means “to walk among the trees.”
“Min hametzar karati Yah anani vamerchavyah” (“From the narrow places I called out to G-d, who answers me with the Divine expanded perspective, the expansiveness of the open field.”) (Rabbi Shefa Gold)
