I’ve always been fascinated by cemeteries.  When I was in my teens, my mother took me to her native Cleveland and we went to visit the graves of my great and great-great grandparents. Seeing a memorial to their lives that was actually here in America was a great privilege. There is a small cemetery in the middle of Boston on the freedom trail that I’ve visited a number of times.  It holds some of the oldest graves in the U.S. and is a history lesson unto itself.  Even more fascinating is the above ground Jewish cemetery in Curacao where the tombs are adorned with skull and bones…a symbol later to be adopted by pirates.  What draws me to these locations is not death, but the life that can be imagined with the etchings on each gravestone.

This week’s Torah portion is called Chayyah Sarah – the life of Sarah.  This is, on the surface, ironic as the chapter begins with Sarah’s death.  And, we are told, that Abraham goes to great lengths to purchase a plot of land so that he can bury Sarah.  It seems that there is not a question that Sarah will be buried on the side of the road or even on the most picturesque terrain near where she perished.  No, Abraham must purchase land for Sarah’s body that, hopefully, will be a remembered spot for generations.  It seems to me that the title of this parshat is strategic as it is telling us that we must honor the life of Sarah by remembering her, and to remember her, she must be buried in a spot where a marker exists to commemorate her life, a place that will belong to her people in perpetuity. 

My sister and her husband have instructed in their wills that their bodies be donated to science when they die.  My step-father, a fisherman, has requested that his ashes be sprinkled over the gulfstream.  But, I have a plot where I will be buried with my grandparents, my mother, and my husband.  It isn’t a matter of where my deceased body is placed – it could be given to science or cremated – that isn’t the issue for me.  What feels important and what I believe our ancestors are saying is that it is essential to have a sacred place where our life can be considered and celebrated…after we physically cease to exist.

Over the years, I’ve done quite a bit of genealogy research on all the branches of my family.  But, the line that has really captured my interest is the one of my maternal grandmother.  Though she never elaborated, she always repeated the story that we were from Alsace Lorraine and that we were related to Alfred Dreyfus.  So, a few years ago, I decided to see if I could find proof of this relationship.  Through ancestry.com, I traced my great-great grandfather back to Wurrtemburg, Germany…a part of Germany near the Black Forest and also across the border from Alsace in France.  Though my great-great grandfather’s last name was Anthony, I knew that he had changed it from Meyer when he came to America in the 1870’s.  Then, in my local library, I came across a biography of Dreyfus, complete with a family tree.  It turns out that the family matriarch, Dreyfus’s great-great grandmother, was Brandel Meyer, from the German side of the Black Forest.  After continued research, I’ve come to realize that they only way that I will be able to bridge the gap between Julius Meyer, my great-great grandfather, and Brandel Meyer, Dreyfus’s great-grandmother is to actually go to the French German border and visit Jewish cemeteries that are still in existence.  Those plots of land, dedicated to our ancestors, and lined with headstones demarcating their lives, will be what enables me to connect the broken link in my family tree.

In Aryeh Kaplan’s Torah translation of Chayyah Sarah, it says that with Abraham’s transaction, Ephron’s field in Makhpelah adjoining Mamre became his uncontested property.  This included the field, its cave, and every tree within its circumference.  It was Abraham’s purchase with all the children of Heth who came to the city gate as eyewitnesses.  Abraham then buried his wife Sarah in the cave of Makhpelah Field, which adjoins Mamre (also known as Hebron), in the land of Canaan.

In the book “Your Name is your Blessing,” it says a name captures a person’s character and personality.  It describes everyone’s mission on earth.  It contains a prophecy as well as a powerful, potential blessing.  It is the only possession we have that remains with us even after death.  And, by following the burial tradition of Abraham, we, too, can ensure that our name, our story, and our memory is an unforgotten blessing.

In Parsha Va-yera, God calls to Abraham twice and both times Abraham responds “Hineini – Here I am.”  When God speaks, Abraham is aware that very important instructions are coming and Hineini indicates that he is ready and waiting to hear the call.

So...

What makes a Moreh Derekh, a teacher of  the way?

Is it the letters Ph.D. after one’s name?  Is it the title of Rabbi?

Or, can we all be teachers in any subject we choose?

We just need to have enough kavannah

To say Hineini

When the wisdom of God comes our way.

We must Sh’ma closely.

Then, each of us can Teshuvah

To teaching from realms in which we’ve only dreamed.

Let’s just say that if the Abram of Lech Lecha had an honest profile on J-date, I would have swiftly passed him by.  He convinced his wife to pretend she was his sister in order to save himself, never mind the harm it might cause her.  He separated himself from the son of his dead brother in order to keep peace and prosperity among his flock.  And, he looked the other way when his wife abused her maid servant despite the fact that she was carrying his child.  It is clear that, just like all of us, Abram had personal issues.

 So, what is it about Abraham that has made his story endure for over 5000 years?  How was he able to claim the title of “Father of the Jewish People?”  The first line of Lech Lecha says “the Lord said to Abram, go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”  What we don’t know is whether Abram was the first person that God instructed or one in a long line that received this critical communication.  What we do know is that Abram heard and that Abram obeyed.

In his book “Callings,” Greg Levoy tells us that hearing a call and actually heeding the call are two distinctly different things.  To begin with, for us to actually notice the still small voice that is guiding us, we need space within our lives to notice it.  Amid emails, texts, Facebook, and literally hundreds of cable channels, deciphering the messages that are truly important can be like finding a needle in a haystack.  According to Levoy, the practices that help us pay attention, are things like a daily journal, meditation, therapy, artwork, movement work, martial arts, dream interpretation, music, long walks, intimate conversation, retreats, fasting, rituals.  Creativity writer, Julia Cameron, adds to this list the artist’s date…a commitment to a solitary artistic experience once every week.

These practices also remind us not to spend so much time awaiting big booming voices from on high that we stumble over the whispers that are right at our feet.  “If you listen down below,” instructs the Torah, “you will deserve to hear from above.”

But, what happens when you do the work that is necessary to hear the call, but are frightened to take the next step?  You register the caller ID, but refuse to actually pick up the phone?  You listen to the message, but never return the call?  As Levoy says, “you are terrified to swap security for your heart’s deepest desire.”

The key to answering the call is coming to terms with the understanding that accepting one path means giving up another. “Go forth,” God says to Abram, take leave, separate.   It is the ending that comes with the beginning that must be grieved.  And, it is the fear of relinquishing…whether it be a job, a relationship, a place, or simply an ideal…that typically prevents us from turning instructions into reality.

"To be blessed" literally means 'to be favored by God'.   And, in the first few lines of Lech Lecha God uses the word bless no less than 5 times.  Heed my call and you will be blessed.  Follow my instructions and I will protect you.  Don’t be afraid of what you are leaving behind, for what lies ahead will be worth the sacrifice.  In essence, hearing the call requires some sort of contemplative practice and accepting what the call is asking you to do requires a leap of faith. To quote an old Cyndi Lauper song, “If you're lost, you can look and you will find me.  Time after time.   If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting.  Time after time.”

According to the Etz Chayim Torah Commentary, a change of name in the Bible is of major significance.  It symbolizes the transformation of character and destiny.  As we witness Abram, the one who listened and responded, become Abraham, we realize that growth is possible at any age and that following a call is not an overnight affair, but an ongoing process.

So, back on J-date while I still may be a bit leery about Abram of Ur, Abraham of Canaan, now he may, indeed, deserve a second look.

I just finished Dara Horn's new book "A Guide for the Perplexed," and while it left me feeling, well, perplexed, it did remind me of a lesson.  The book was a modern take on the Joseph story, though it veered off into a different sort of ending.  In the real Joseph story, Joseph forgives his brothers because he feels that what they did to him was fortuitous.  His eventual position in the Egyptian court allows him to save his family from starvation.

Indeed, bad things, even tragic things happen to all of us.  It is impossible to tell, however, where these hardships will lead us.  It may be that a decade must pass before we can look back and see what would never have happened if the devasting event did not occur.  There is no way to tell in the moment or even many moments later.  Yet, further down the road, upon reflection, we may see things in a different way.  

For me, if my father hadn't left, my step-father wouldn't have come into our lives and introduced my family to travel, sport, and cooking.  If the mother of the Australian Shepherd pups hadn't bit my daughter, I would not have spent the last 13.5 years with my beloved Golden Retriever, Macintosh.

As they say, hindsight is 20/20.  May we pause this Shabbat and attempt to be "in the moment" with our tsuris.  And, may we excavate the timeline of our lives looking for bad which led to good.

Shabbat Shalom.