Sarah’s Laugh, Sarah’s Fear
Vayera, 5784
Parashat Vayera. There’s a lot I could say about this parsha. From starting with the announcement of Yitzchak’s birth, through the fall of Sodom and Gomorra, to the birth of Yitzchak and the expulsion of Hagar, to the Akedah, the binding of Yitzchak itself, this parsha is simply full of moments worth talking about. I struggled for a long time with what to teach from this parsha because there is simply so much to teach in this parsha. But then, after a conversation with Naima, it occurred to me. Those of you who were here on the second day of Rosh Hashanah know that the Akedah is a story that deeply resonates with me, that I struggle with, that I find meaning in. I talked on Rosh Hashanah about being in the hole, and how Avraham is in that hole when God approaches him one fateful morning and tells him to sacrifice his only son. Today, I want to flip the script. I want to talk about Sarah, and where and how she is also in the hole.
The first time we hear that Sarah is barren is at the end of Parashat Noach. It is a simple statement of fact: וַתְּהִי שָׂרַי עֲקָרָה אֵין לָהּ וָלָד Now Sarai was barren, and she had no child. We are not told how she felt about it, or if she wanted a child. The next time Sarah’s barren nature is alluded to is in Lech Lecha, in Bereshit chapter 15: When God tells Avraham that he will be the father of a nation, he objects, and says that he is childless. Sarah is not mentioned. But just one chapter later, after the covenant between the pieces is established between Avraham and Sarah, Sarah’s barrenness is restated, and she says the following to Avraham: הִנֵּה־נָא עֲצָרַנִי ה מִלֶּדֶת בֹּא־נָא אֶל־שִׁפְחָתִי אוּלַי אִבָּנֶה מִמֶּנָּה “Please see, Hashem has stopped me from having children. Now please, cohabit with my maidservant, and maybe I will be built up through her.” There is a great deal of subtext in Sarah’s request: she says that Hashem has “stopped her” from having children, implying that she would want to have children, but is prevented. Twice she uses the word “נָא” or “please” as an intensifier, highlighting how much this means to her. And the reason she gives for her request, for Avraham to have children with Hagar, is that through it she may be “built up:” a pun on Boneh build and Ben son, perhaps, but also an indication of how Sarah feels that she is currently lacking. And yet Sarah almost instantly regrets her request: as soon as Hagar is pregnant she gets upset, and angry at Hagar. Why? The text says that Sarah was lowered in Hagar’s esteem, but it is not too hard to also imagine the jealousy that Sarah must also have felt. Desperately wanting a child, and not being able to have one.
Which brings us to Vayera. Avraham greets three strangers and asks Sarah to make bread to feed them. While she is in the tent baking, the strangers inquire where Sarah is. In the tent, Avraham replies. Whereupon one of the strangers remarks that Sarah will have a son. Now, the remark is meant for Avraham to hear, not Sarah. But Sarah does overhear it, from inside the tent. And she laughs, and thinks to herself that it is impossible. It is a laugh not of mirth but of despair. What this stranger has said is ridiculous. It is foolish to even hope. But then God speaks—and the text is not clear if it is God or the angel—but speaks not directly to Sarah, but to Avraham, asking “Why did Sarah laugh? Is anything too wondrous for Hashem?” And then Sarah responds. And she lies. וַתְּכַחֵשׁ שָׂרָה לֵאמֹר לֹא צָחַקְתִּי כִּי יָרֵאָה “And Sarah lied, saying ‘I did not laugh,’ for she was afraid.” The text is ambiguous here. Who is Sarah speaking to? She has not been a part of the conversation so far. Some commentators understand that she responded to the angel. Others see her as talking privately to Avraham after the men leave. Whoever Sarah is talking responds back to her “לֹא כִּי צָחָקְתְּ” “No, you did laugh,” and the conversation ends.
Why was Sarah afraid? If she was speaking to the angel, we could say that she was afraid that God would judge her for laughing. But I think that is an uncharitable way of reading Sarah. There are commentators, like Ramban, who say that Sarah did not initially recognize the guests as angels while Avraham did, which is why she laughed. But we also have a rabbinic tradition that Sarah was superior in prophecy to Avraham, which is why Avraham is told to listen to her voice. No, I think Sarah was afraid because she couldn’t let herself hope. After a lifetime of wishing and waiting, she couldn’t imagine a future where she had a child. And so Sarah laughs at the news she will give birth, and then is afraid when her laughter is called out. Afraid because, if God is really promising for her to have a child, then maybe she really could get pregnant. That raises her hopes, but then there is the fear. The fear that still, even with God’s promise, that it will not be enough. That she will never give birth. That she will never climb out of the hole.
The response “No you did laugh”, whether from the angel or from Avraham, misses the point entirely. It is not about whether or not Sarah laughed. It is about how she is feeling. Even in this episode where good news is being shared specifically for Sarah, she is sidelined. No one considers her feelings. No one gets in the hole with her.
On Rosh Hashanah I spoke about the importance of getting in the hole with those who need it. In this parsha, when we read the Akedah, I wanted to return to that theme because I wanted to add an additional element to that challenge. Getting in the hole with someone is not easy. It requires, first and foremost, paying attention to the person in the hole. Listening to them. Hearing where they are, and what they need. As human beings, our nature is to try to solve problems, especially if they are problems we have faced. To say, “I’ve been in the hole, and you can get out! You just need to do x, y, and z.” At the moment when we try to get into the hole, it’s not about us, and its not even about solving any problems. It’s about the person in the hole.
Sarah did not receive that comfort. No one stops to consider what Sarah must be feeling. And so we can learn from Sarah’s story. To recognize and identify those who are in the hole, and not overwhelm them with our own feelings and positivity, but to simply listen. To try to understand. No one understood the meaning of Sarah’s laugh, and her fear. But we, her descendants, can. And we can strive to, in her memory and name, understand and care for each other.
