Et Shaarei Ratson: Sarah's Painful Death

Rabbi Yehuda ben Shmuel ibn Abbas was one of Sephardic Jewry's most gifted poets. Born in Fez, Morocco in the 12th Century, ibn Abbas is best known for his poignant poetic retelling of Akedat Yitzchak - the Binding of Isaac. The poem is titled either by its opening words - "Et Shaarei Ratson L'Hipateach" (The Time for the Gates of Will to Open) - or by its theme - "The Akedah" (The Binding). It is chanted by Sephardic Jews as the introduction to the blowing of the Shofar on both days of Rosh Hashanah. The moving lyrics and sentimental tune of Et Shaarei Ratson together create a deeply emotional atmosphere leading into the climactic moment when we hear the sounds of the Shofar.

(Et Shaarei Ratson in Ladino Translation)

Within this 14 stanza poem, the tenth and eleventh are known as the tear jerkers. When they are chanted on Rosh Hashanah, there isn't a dry eye in the synagogue. These stanzas poetically express Isaac's broken emotions in words to his father Abraham, just moments before the knife is wielded on him.

What was on Isaac's mind at this dramatic moment? Isaac was thinking about the one person who is completely absent in the Torah's telling of the Akedah - his mother Sarah. As Abraham prepares to lift the knife and offer his son as a sacrifice, the Et Shaarei Ratson poem relates the emotions Isaac must have felt in knowing that his mother was kept in the dark about the Akedah:

Tell my mother that her joy, her one remaining son, the son she bore at the age of 90, became a man and was subjected to the slaughtering knife. I would seek solace for her, but from where? I am pained for the mother who will cry and weep.

My words come from the slaughtering knife, please sharpen it father and tighten my bonds. When it binds my flesh, take with you the remains of my ashes, and tell Sarah, this is the scent of Isaac.

This week's Torah portion is named "Chayei Sarah" - Sarah's Lifetime - and it's opening verses actually tell of Sarah's death and burial. The telling of Sarah's death comes immediately after the Akedah, prompting the commentator Rashi to attribute Sarah's death to hearing the news about the Akedah. Rashi says:

"The narrative of the death of Sarah follows immediately on that of the Binding of Isaac, because through hearing the news that her son had been made ready for sacrifice and had almost been sacrificed, her soul was shocked to its core and she died." (Rashi on Genesis 23:3)

Many Jewish commentators read the Akedah as the story of Abraham passing the ultimate "test of faith" in God. Rashi's linking of Sarah's death to the Akedah, as well as ibn Abbas' poetic probe of Isaac's emotions about his mother, remind us of the heavy toll this episode took on Isaac and his mother Sarah. These deeper interpretations point to the reality that behind every heroic episode lies painful sacrifices. With the Akedah, an "almost-sacrifice" led to some very painful emotional sacrifices.

Jews read the Torah as our personal narrative. The stories of our Biblical ancestors are "our stories." Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z"l, whose first anio (yahrzeit) we observed this week, taught us that "Torah is a journey". We journey through the Torah and relive every moment - the triumphs and the tragedies - in our minds and in our hearts.

The Akedah is not just "a story from our past." It's personal, and painful, no matter how many times we read it. Despite our knowing that the sacrifice never went through, we continue to carry the pain and trauma of the Akedah to this day. The poem Et Shaarei Ratson helps us confront this pain and release our emotions. Whether in synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, or any other time we read it, Et Shaarei Ratson allows us to cry, not for the "great heroes of our faith," but for the poignant story about a son and his mother.

Shabbat Shalom