Hayyei Sarah (Hasidism)

“The Days of Sarah’s Life”

Most Hasidic teachings relate to the biblical verses or Rabbinic sayings which serve as their point of departure as a kind of symbolic structure, rather than as a subject of study and literal exegesis. Hence, they often show a particular affinity for the enigmatic verse or Rabbinic dictum. The opening verse of Hayyei Sarah is a prime example. Rashi, in explaining a seemingly simple statement about Sarah’s age at the time of her death, quotes a rather strange midrash from Bereshit Rabbah 58.1:

“And Sarah’s life was one hundred years, and twenty years, and seven years, the years of Sarah’s life” (Gen 23:1). “The Lord knows the days of the innocent, and their inheritance shall be forever” (Ps 37:18). Just as they are unblemished [or: innocent], so are their years unblemished. At twenty years she was like seven years for beauty, and at one hundred years she was like twenty years for [innocence of] sin.

The midrash, noting the Bible’s expressing Sarah’s life span of 127 years in terms of three separate units—100 years, 20 years, 7 years—assumes that this is intended to draw a comparison among the different ages. She is described as being as beautiful at 20 as she was at 7 (itself a rather strange statement; most non-pedophiles would probably consider the 20-year-old to be closer to the very peak of her beauty!), and as innocent of sin at 100 as she was at 20 (Again, are 20-year-olds really so innocent of sin? The usual explanation is that, although a Jew is formally obligated to perform mitzvot from age 12 or 13, one is not held fully accountable, vis-a-vis Divine sanctions, until 20).

R. Elimelekh of Lizhensk, author of Noam Elimelekh, was one of the senior figures among the next generation of disciples: not the direct students of the Baal Shem Tov, but rather that remarkable group of individuals who were disciples of the Maggid of Mezhirech and became rebbes in their turn. Each of these created his own unique path in Avodat Hashem, in Divine service, and collectively they spread the path of Hasidut to virtually every place in Jewish Eastern Europe. These include, in addition to Reb Elimelekh: his brother, R. Zusya of Hanipol; R. Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev, the “Kedushat Levi,” renowned for his great love of Israel; R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady, author of Sefer ha-Tanya and founder of Habad Hasidism; R. Menahem Mendel of Vitebsk; R. Nahum of Chernobyl (also a direct disciple of the Besht), the Me’or Einayim, whom we already mentioned; R. Aharon of Karlin; R. Shmelke of Nikolsburg; R. Yaakov Yosef, the “Hozeh” of Lublin; and many others.

Perhaps more than any other person, R. Elimelekh is considered the one who transformed Hasidism into a popular movement, and the originator of the concept of the Tzaddik in its popular form: that is, of the Hasidic court roughly as we know it today, centered around the charismatic figure of a leader who serves as teacher, exemplary model of piety, and intercessor between the ordinary hasid and his God. But R. Elimelekh was not satisfied with vicarious piety; he made very stringent and uncompromising demands of his hasidim, some of which doubtless seem harsh and inhuman to modern ears. The Tzet’l Katan, the “Small Letter” printed at the beginning of his book, which he asks people to study and repeat frequently, advocates a regimen of intense, fiery prayer and seeks to inculcate a psychological state in which a person imagines himself at any given moment as being ready to die for Kiddush Hashem, for the Sanctification of God’s Name. R. Elimelekh’s orientation is thus largely a Mussar one, in the sense that his concern is more the person’s spiritual development rather than issues of theology, such as that found in Me’or Einayim.

Many of the classic Hasidic works take the qualities celebrated here as being in turn symbolic of other things. The following passage, concerning the above-mentioned midrash elucidating the passage about Sarah’s ages, is perhaps typical:

Or one may say that Rashi alludes in his words to teaching people the ways of God. That is, there are two stages in men’s path. The one, when man is in his childhood, he strengthens himself in study and studies constantly, and the study is called “beauty,” for this is the beauty of the Creator, blessed be He. *

An aside: In his autobiography, The Book and the Sword, David Weiss Halivni recounts a childhood experience of leafing through a copy of No’am Elimelekh that he came across in his grandfather’s home, and the ambivalent reaction of the adults to him, as a child, studying such a profound Kabbalistic text. He mentions there that many of the passages in this book are studded with asterisks, such as above, which according to Hasidic oral tradition are said to allude to deep mysteries. Perhaps they represent the end of certain units of thought, which call for reflection and meditation.

And when a person is more advanced in years, that is, from twenty years on, then his intellect strengthens to know God. At that point he begins to reflect upon his own actions to see whether they are done properly, for His glory, may He be blessed, in truth. And he sees and understands of himself that he has not at all discharged his obligation in the involvement in Torah and mitzvot that he has performed thus far. And he understands that he has been lacking and fallen short in them, that is, that he studied for some ulterior motive or to aggrandize himself or for some other matter for his own pleasure. And that person shall tremble and regret what he did it previously, and strengthen himself to correct all of his actions and his Torah study, that it should all be equally for His Name, may He be praised, and not for his own pleasure.

This is an interesting progression. Torah study is seen as a form of religious service suitable even for childhood, whereas introspection and self-examination require a greater emotional and spiritual maturity. A child is naturally egotistical; he does those things for which he is praised by adults, or which are interesting or enjoyable in their own right. The self-reflective conscience, the ability to act on the basis of an internal set of values and standards, only develops much later. In a traditional Jewish community, where there are powerful social reinforcements, excellence in Torah study can not only be an end in itself, but also can—and often does—become for the bright student a vehicle for childish self-aggrandizement. Again, Weiss Halivni’s biography provides a striking picture of the adulation by adult shteitl society of an “illui,” a child prodigy.

The above passage also implies the Hasidic critique of Torah study as the exclusive value, of the Mitnaggedic value system which seemingly makes Torah study the be-all and end-all. But in truth, in Mitnaggedic circles too there was an on-going tension between Torah and yirah, between the acquisition of knowledge and acute intellectual analysis of the overt contents of Torah, on the one hand, and “the fear of God”—piety, character work, and religious consciousness—on the other.

And as is known, it is written in the holy book Hovot ha-Levavot, that there is no piety like that which is at the beginning. For every thing, at its first beginning, is done with great longing and effort, and with the greatest possible exertion. And this is what Rashi said: “at 100 years, she was like 20 years regarding sin”—that is, as she was at age 20, for then it is a person’s nature to examine his actions, and he finds therein the sins that are lacking in His service, may He be praised. And he holds fast to this path very strongly, for it is the first beginning. And when she was 100 years old she was still on this level. *

Hasidism emphasizes the need to maintain the consciousness of “beginnings.” It is only natural for human beings to approach the start of a new project, of a new path in life, with energy and excitement; beginnings are almost always marked by an almost naive single-mindedness. The important thing in life is persistence. But, for Hasidism, this requires not only will-power, but somehow maintaining the actual feeling of freshness, of newness. “’Today’: Let them be as new in your eyes ever day” (Rashi on Deut 6:6). “He who renews the acts of creation every day, constantly.” A. J. Heschel wrote of “radical amazement” as the central religious emotion. The Rav used to describe the ability to maintain a certain child-like quality as an essential component in the religious personality. Thus, according to R. Elimelekh, the remarkable thing about Sarah was her ability to maintain into old age the sense of surprise and newness —including the ability to engage in self-examination. At times one encounters old people whose faces still contain a child-like sense of wonder at the world, a curiosity and freshness of perception, a refusal to become blasé, jaded, cynical, indifferent. It is difficult to describe such faces; it is one of those qualities that you recognize when you see it.

“And aged 20 like aged 7 for beauty.” This too is meant in the same way. That is, in study as well there must be a maximal approach, to reflect on His holy Torah as when he was still in his childhood, in his tender years. And the righteous person who behaves thus, merits eternal life. *

It seems to me that this passage is not only speaking of Torah study as intellectual understanding. After all, that grows the more one studies and the more one matures mentally, regardless of whether or not one perceives it as fresh and new. The more Torah one knows, the greater the facility with which one can call up associations and points of comparison, draw broad-ranging analogies, create over-arching theories, etc. But no—with all ones “book learning,” one also has to know how to study Torah as one did as a child, to be excited by it, to feel it as a source of vitality, not as something to which you already know the answer. Rav Soloveitchik once remarked: “I teach my Gemara class for three hours. It’s very strange…. The boys there are perhaps fifty years younger than me, but at the end of three hours they are exhausted and I am refreshed.” In truth, to truly innovate in Torah (as in anything) requires a fresh view: the ability to look at the text from a new angle no one’s ever thought of before; not only a narrowing circle of ever finer dialectical hair-splitting, but a radically new purview.

I am also reminded here of watching an old man dancing on Simhat Torah or at a wedding. When a young boy dances, that may be an expression of pure animal energy. When an old man dances, it is the spirit dancing.