Life, death and more

As time passes, we seem to encounter an increasing number of peaks of violence that cool down only to reignite repeatedly. We anticipate other challenges to confront with renewed mental or physical aggressiveness. We are experiencing difficult times of spiritual, societal, and identity trials. This phenomenon is not new; it is simply part of the ordinary day-to-day experience of humanity. It does not necessarily include development or growth.

This week’s Torah portion is “Chayei Sarah/חי שרה – the life of Sarah,” which begins with her death and concludes with Abraham’s burial of her. The primary purpose of this reading is not life itself but rather to explore the meaning of life and the significance of how and why humans should be brought to everlasting repose and rest in death.

How does one bury someone in a place where the deceased is considered a “foreigner”? What should a foreigner do when they lose a close relative in a distant land? Abraham’s attitude toward his wife exemplifies a rare act of loving-kindness. In Egypt, he had been prepared to abandon Sarah to Pharaoh, claiming she was his sister. This, however, led to a natural plague that afflicted Pharaoh, prompting the swift expulsion of Abraham and Sarah from the country—much sooner than during Moses’ time (Bereishit/Genesis 12:14-17).

Jewish tradition holds that while Abraham did not love (le’ehuv/לאהוב) Sarah in the conventional sense, they lived together as true life companions. Abraham demonstrated compassion (rachamim/רחמים) when he purchased a cave at Machpelah for 400 silver shekels—a significant sum at that time—to bury his lifelong wife Sarah in the land of the Hittites. Abraham was regarded as a “stable” resident (a sort of ger toshav/גר תושב). Expressions of love took different forms: it was more emotional with Yitzchak and Rebecca, and it reached fulfillment with Yaakov, who labored for 14 years and was even deceived by his father-in-law to marry his beloved Rachel.

Importantly, Abraham was neither rejected nor ordered to bury Sarah in his homeland of Ur-Kasdim in Mesopotamia. Ephron the Hittite accepted the payment and instructed him, “Go and bury your dead.” Consequently, Machpelah/מכפלה passed from Ephron to Abraham at the merchants’ going rate “as a burial place.” Abraham himself was also to be buried there (Genesis 25:10). This act of compassion planted the seeds of life for a wandering, God-seeking couple who could peacefully and lawfully “lay their bones” to rest, in fulfillment of the promise of a numerous lineage.

Reflecting on the journey of this exceptional couple—our ancestors—they felt a strong obligation to steadfastly fight against paganism, amorality, and human sacrifice. They made a covenant in the flesh, and this act, which primarily concerns males, left a profound imprint on their souls.

They placed their trust in the Omnipresent Lord. Abraham argued with God to save a handful of sinners, if any, who were trapped in Sodom. This is distinct from our usual demands that God should conform to human ethical standards.

The order of names—Sarah and Abraham—is significant because of the privilege she granted her husband to bear Yitzchak unexpectedly. They never imposed any strict divine regulations. Nevertheless, Judaism teaches that Abraham complied with all the Mitzvot/Commandments of the Torah and Talmud, encompassing all the Commandments of the Written and Oral Laws. They faced a spiritual struggle, choosing to cling to the words of the One God of the living in contrast to idols, ruthless violence, and hostile evictions/deportations.

Jesus expressed a similar sentiment to his disciples: “As you go, do not take gold or silver or copper for your belts; no sack for the journey, or a second tunic, or sandals or walking stick. The laborer deserves his keep” (Matthew 10:10).

Currently, we face doubts that challenge faith within a society of believers and non-believers—atheists, secular individuals, and free spirits. In a context where people can claim a territory but struggle to foster global connections, we find ourselves at a crossroads.

This is the first proposition. In reality, there are strong trends of displaying faith and embracing various creeds. Faith comes and goes like waves; it is not constant. Generations have shown that while “faith” is an essential value, it is not inherently moral. Faith reveals Divine intent and goals. Thus, “Faith” is a gift that enables us to navigate the moral “barriers” we encounter, allowing us to comply with “extant, essential, and life-giving ethics.”

“Pulsa d’nura/פולסא דנורא” is a Talmudic expression in Aramaic found in Talmud Baba Metzia 47b, Hagiga 15b, and Leviticus Rabba 37 (“pulsin/פולסין”). “Pulsa/פולסא” means a disk, circular plate, or ring, used historically as a measure of weight or currency (“pilas/פילס”). The significance of any currency in the Middle East and in Jewish and Christian cultural contexts is profound. In the Gospel, a woman turns almost mad in her quest to find a “lost coin” but celebrates with her friends when she recovers it (Luke 15:8).

By extension, “pulsa d’nura” refers to fiery disks associated with lashes used as a form of divine punishment against sinners in heaven (i.e., after death) in the absence of a presupposed Divine pardon (Yoma 77a). Rashi interpreted this “harsh condemnation” as equivalent to “cherem/חרם,” or a ban from the community.

Since the Second Temple is not visibly “alive – qayam/קיים,” sacrifices are suspended, and without a coherent and legal Sanhedrin, death sentences are not applicable. Therefore, any attempt to expel someone from a Jewish community is fraught with complications. Since the Era of Enlightenment, a secular movement that arose in Christianized Europe in the 17th century cast doubt on beliefs and creeds. This issue persisted into the early 20th century, with figures like Marc Chagall (whose Christian-oriented paintings) and Shalom Asch (his Yiddish writings about “Jesus” and “Mary”) facing potential exclusion from the Jewish community, essentially under a “cherem/חרם.”

The “pulsa d’nura/פולסא דנורא” appears to be an alternative “death curse” pronounced against individuals who have deeply offended or transgressed Jewish laws. It is noteworthy that “death penalties” have not been part of Judaism, as Jews are called to bless rather than curse (Genesis 22:18). The “cherem/חרם,” or ban, has likewise fallen out of practice or can be more easily circumvented, though not universally.

Initially, churches could pronounce anathemas (bans) or excommunications, effectively excluding the faithful from the sacraments and the broader community; the Eastern Orthodox tradition also referred to the prohibition of receiving communion.

The capacity to include or exclude someone is very important. It allows to define the specificities of one or multiple identities connected to a tribe, society, culture, linguistic environment, and approaches to thinking and developing community frameworks. The Orthodox Church of Jerusalem has evolved through a series of anathemas, which are mistakenly believed to have been canceled after the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council in 1965.

In reality, this only pertains to the two first Christian patriarchates, i.e. Rome and Constantinople of the inital pentarchy of the Roman empire of the east and the West.

Legal procedures help delineate the historical layers and patterns that enable to understand how faith can be maintained throughout the ages. This is why, for example, in this Sunday’s reading of the Byzantine Christian Church (according to the Julian calendar), Jesus asked the young man what the greatest commandment is. The young man responded by citing the “Hearken, Israel/שמע ישראל” which is mentioned three times in the Gospel. If this foundational commandment is overlooked, there would be a severance from the true act of faith and moral life that Jewishness constantly refers to (Luke 10: 25-37).

Jesus tells the young man of a story that is called a parable and is a kind of usual midrash or “pilpul exercise” about a man who had been attacked, robbed left half dead on the side of the road. A Cohen (priest), a Levite passed and continued their way and did not pay attention to the injured man. Incidentally, by some odd providence, a Samaritan passed, approached the injured man, took full care of him, smeared him with oil and wine, brought him to a hostel, paid for his room, costs and expenses and added that the owner of the hostel would be paid any additional fees if any.

It is a bit too much. a typical Semitic account, definitely similar to any of the current Jewish accounts that allow to explain some topics. At the core of the affair, there is to make a difference on how one behaves as a person, a human being, an individual who frequents such or such societal or religious group. The final question of Jesus lets smile softly. He said: “Who was the neighbor (closer) to the injured man?” The young man answered: “The one who showed lovingkindness, I think = in Aramaic: ܗܘ ܕܐܬܪܚܡ ܥܠܘܗ/in Hebrew: “Assah chesed verachmim-עשה חסד ורחמים”. The question is how do we proceed in society? According to what rules, what laws and are all regulations and attitude showing our freedom to be good or bad, evil, either in incredible contexts or when we pretend to be submitted to the principles of justice and truth? Any human soul is our neighbor ܩܪܝܒܐ ܠܗܘ, which both means to “be close to anyone-somebody, unknown at times, foreign quite often, alien in many ways”.Still keeping in mind the reality of being a person who has the right to be decently treated in all circumstances.

Death curses, or “pulsa d’nura,” have been central to the deep debates and struggles led by secular Jews and various ultra-orthodox Jewish groups who have aimed to ensure the survival of Jewish identity in hostile environments.

Eliezer Ben Yehuda, the reviver of Modern Hebrew, was seemingly the first “Israeli” to be targeted by such a death curse, as it was once unthinkable for pious Jews to speak the language of God. However, the necessity for a common language led to the acceptance of Hebrew as the most fitting and valuable heritage. Until recently, Yiddish remained the only “national” vernacular in very orthodox circles or among specific groups.

Death curses were also cited regarding late Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin, and potentially against Shimon Peres and Moshe Katzav, both candidates for the presidency of the State. Late Rabbi I. Kaduri and Menachem Mendel (Lubavitch) intervened as spiritual leaders. Nevertheless, some authorities protested against the existence of such curses—pulsa d’nura. Most notably, the curse was referenced in relation to the pullout from the Gaza Strip and Ariel Sharon.

Cursing appears to be a recurring, violent, and passionate emotional reaction within Semitic and religious thought, reflecting a commitment to God’s commandments against the pagan and secular attitudes of social bodies that do not uphold the requirements of faith.

“Cherem/חרם” (ban, expulsion) is often echoed in Arabic (charam  .(چرم / Physical violence, such as spitting at Christian clergy or deliberately ignoring them, is common in Jerusalem. In turn, mutual ignorance exacerbates the wounds of aggressive stances that have historically influenced each group in the name of ritual purity. Thus, the enduring loving-kindness demonstrated by Abraham and Sarah, as they wandered in search of their identity, serves as a prime example of hospitality and love for the stranger. It was their method of fulfilling the Mitzvot at the terebinths of Mamre. They understood they were in transit, not settled, and that they were among “others.”

Each day, Jewish communities begin their prayers with the words of Bilaam, the prophet who was bribed to curse Israel but ultimately realized his error when his she-donkey refused to move, laid down, and offered him guidance. He converted and proclaimed: “How goodly are your tents, Jacob, your dwelling places, Israel” (Numbers/VaYikra 24:5).

Sarah’s death and Abraham’s burial show the very ancient call to welcome in life and beyond life. The Qaddish precises “baagala uvzman qariv/בעגלא ובזמן קריב” and the neighbor is not only the one who is our’s. “Those who live near another” can be adopted or refused, accepted or rejected. The Semitic traditions of the east have this linguistic and mental, cultural force to seek righteousness in defining with precision who is of this or other tribe but have to be close to us because of some divine principles that we ought not to control to our benefit.

Beyond any curse, blessings are fundamental, “bringing praise to (our) lips. Peace, peace to those far and near,” says the Lord, “and I will heal them.” (Isaiah 57:19, comp. Ephesians 2:17).