Chayei Sarah: Always Kindness. Always.
Chayei Sarah offers a profound exploration of kindness and justice, even amidst the complexity of human relationships. It is a story filled with negotiations, decisions, and, remarkably, a quiet but radical shift in perspective.
In the narrative, Rebecca emerges as a figure of unparalleled kindness. She offers water to a stranger’s camels — an act that transcends duty, embodying the Torah’s ideal of chesed (love/kindness). Yet even as her kindness shines, the text confronts us with a moment of stark contrast. When Abraham’s servant Eleazar seeks to bring Rebecca back to Isaac, her father and brother hesitate, treating her as an object to be bartered. Then comes a pivotal moment: they say, “Let us ask her. (Gen. 24:57)” For the first time, Rebecca’s voice is invited into the conversation.
Is this justice? Perhaps. But in our world, where kindness feels rare and bridge-building seems so difficult, I also see a softening here — a willingness to listen, to create space for someone else’s voice. Maybe I am aching for kindness so much that I see it where others might not. But isn’t that part of what it means to live a life of faith? To look for the spark of kindness and amplify it?
I was reminded of this yesterday in a conversation with my beloved friend Andrew Hanauer, founder of the One America Movement. His work focuses on uniting people of different faith communities through acts of service — an inspiring mission, though an arduous one in our fractured world. I asked him, “Are people coming together across communities?” His response was both sobering and hopeful: the work is hard, and public displays of bridge-building are precious. Then he added something powerful: “It is more important than ever to to ensure that our own communities are places of love and kindness.”
This resonates deeply, especially now, in a time of so much pain. Since October 7, our hearts have been shattered by suffering. Yet, amidst the grief, we are called to remain human, to stay soft, to extend kindness even when it feels impossibly heavy. It is not easy, but it is essential. V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha — love your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18) — is not conditional. It does not depend on whether we feel others love us back. It is a commandment to be menschen, to bring light into the world through our actions.
The opening of UJA’s Brooklyn Hub today reminds us of this mission. These hubs are sacred spaces because of what we do there. They serve as places where dignity meets need, where the most vulnerable can find support, safety, and love. They embody the question we must continually ask: What do you need? This simple question transforms lives. It turns strangers into neighbors, neighbors into family.
Rebecca’s story in Chayei Sarah teaches us the same lesson. Her father and brother, patriarchal figures steeped in the norms of their time, pause to ask: What does she think? That pause, that act of listening, becomes a pivotal moment. It is a reminder that we, too, can create holiness by asking, by listening, and by acting with kindness.
Even in our deepest pain, even as we carry the weight of our history and our present, we must remain alive to kindness. We must ride our proverbial bicycles, like Jonathan Polin, Hersh’s z”l beautiful father, who, even in his grief, trains for a ride to support a children’s hospital and calls out for the release of all the remaining hostages. We must open our hearts and our hands, remembering that our mission as Jews — and as human beings — is to love.
So let us pledge: to demand dignity for ourselves and to demand kindness from ourselves. To be strong, but also soft. To ask and to listen. To honor the holiness of every human soul by meeting their needs, just as we hope ours will be met. And let us carry this truth forward: Kindness always. Always kindness.
May we, like Rebecca, act with kindness. May we, like her family, find the courage to listen. And may we, through these acts, bring healing to our fractured world.
Chayei Sarah reminds us: holiness is not found only in miracles. It is found in the everyday acts of love and compassion that keep our hearts beating. Let us live this truth: Always kindness. Always.
Amen.
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