21分
DiggingOut Ep.4: חיי שרה Defining Moments of Identity Digging Out
-
- 言語学習
In this week's episode, we look at the fork in the road when we are confronted with Identity. Identity as you envision it versus identity as it really is.
This week’s Torah portion is Chaye Sarah which means, the Life of Sarah. It speaks to us about Life, Lineage, and Legacy, but the first verse is about her death—not her life. So, why does the Torah portion open up with —"this is the life of Sarah?" Abraham also dies at the end of this Torah portion. In between, is the story of Eliazar the servant of Abraham, and his journey to find a wife for Isaac—Rivka (whose English name is Rebecca).
So why the life of Sarah? Because Sarah’s life continued to live on through her son Isaac and his son Jacob that brought forth the Nation and House of Israel.
In fact, in Isaiah 51 Sarah is mentioned—G-D speaks through the prophet Isaiah and says, "Hearken to me, ye that follow after righteousness, ye that seek the LORD: look unto the rock whence you are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence you are digged. Look unto Abraham your father, and unto Sarah, that bare you: for I called him alone, and blessed him, and increased him."
Notice that HaShem is drawing your attention to lineage and legacy—to their call, their moral integrity, and to G-D’s promise that all who are of Abraham & Sarah shall be blessed.
For me, This is a very special Torah portion, because both my mother and grandmother died during this Torah portion, and on the same day, Cheshvan 23, three years apart —Today is Cheshvan 23.
When we are young lineage and legacy seem so irrelevant to the curiosities of learning, growing, and finding our way in this maze of choice, direction, and decision. However, as the path of your life unfolds, you start to ponder and wonder about the path of those who have gone before you. Their influence and life choices brought them to where they were or are at that moment, and you to where you are today.
And curiosity once again strikes —this time it's personal —internally personal. It's the fork in the road of identity. It’s the bridge between who you envision yourself as and who you really are. And it’s the clues and curation of history that reveals the tapestry of generations and your unique strand and image in that tapestry.
For me, my grandmother was my world. She was beautiful, smart, incredibly organized, and talented. She treated my grandfather like a king and knew how to entertain with grace—all of which my mother inherited. She had answers to all my questions and taught me how to appreciate family, fun, food, and the future.
Words cannot express the deep connection and immense love we had for each other. Although, she shared her love with all her grandchildren equally—I knew I was her favorite. I was her first.
But nothing could have prepared me for August of 1989, when she joined me for Shabbat lunch in my apartment located in Broadview, Illinois.
But before we go there—I would like to share a brief story. In the spring of 1986, I was helping my boyfriend do administrative work at the New York Life office in Skokie, IL, the well-known Jewish hub of Chicago.
In an adjacent office sat a beautiful Orthodox Jewish woman (I say Jewish orthodox because my boyfriend at the time was Green Orthodox), Chaya Hirshman. One day, she called me into her office, asked me to sit and describe the art and artifacts decorating her office. My response was, “well, I am not sure what everything is but I do know it is a lot of Jewish stuff.” She smiled and reached across the desk to place her hand upon mine. And with bold confidence and gentle voice she said to me, “Kim, you have a Jewish soul.” I must admit, I had no idea what that meant and it was so unexpected that the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “I do?” While inside my thoughts were like a ping-pong machine. “What in the world is she talking about? What does this m
In this week's episode, we look at the fork in the road when we are confronted with Identity. Identity as you envision it versus identity as it really is.
This week’s Torah portion is Chaye Sarah which means, the Life of Sarah. It speaks to us about Life, Lineage, and Legacy, but the first verse is about her death—not her life. So, why does the Torah portion open up with —"this is the life of Sarah?" Abraham also dies at the end of this Torah portion. In between, is the story of Eliazar the servant of Abraham, and his journey to find a wife for Isaac—Rivka (whose English name is Rebecca).
So why the life of Sarah? Because Sarah’s life continued to live on through her son Isaac and his son Jacob that brought forth the Nation and House of Israel.
In fact, in Isaiah 51 Sarah is mentioned—G-D speaks through the prophet Isaiah and says, "Hearken to me, ye that follow after righteousness, ye that seek the LORD: look unto the rock whence you are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence you are digged. Look unto Abraham your father, and unto Sarah, that bare you: for I called him alone, and blessed him, and increased him."
Notice that HaShem is drawing your attention to lineage and legacy—to their call, their moral integrity, and to G-D’s promise that all who are of Abraham & Sarah shall be blessed.
For me, This is a very special Torah portion, because both my mother and grandmother died during this Torah portion, and on the same day, Cheshvan 23, three years apart —Today is Cheshvan 23.
When we are young lineage and legacy seem so irrelevant to the curiosities of learning, growing, and finding our way in this maze of choice, direction, and decision. However, as the path of your life unfolds, you start to ponder and wonder about the path of those who have gone before you. Their influence and life choices brought them to where they were or are at that moment, and you to where you are today.
And curiosity once again strikes —this time it's personal —internally personal. It's the fork in the road of identity. It’s the bridge between who you envision yourself as and who you really are. And it’s the clues and curation of history that reveals the tapestry of generations and your unique strand and image in that tapestry.
For me, my grandmother was my world. She was beautiful, smart, incredibly organized, and talented. She treated my grandfather like a king and knew how to entertain with grace—all of which my mother inherited. She had answers to all my questions and taught me how to appreciate family, fun, food, and the future.
Words cannot express the deep connection and immense love we had for each other. Although, she shared her love with all her grandchildren equally—I knew I was her favorite. I was her first.
But nothing could have prepared me for August of 1989, when she joined me for Shabbat lunch in my apartment located in Broadview, Illinois.
But before we go there—I would like to share a brief story. In the spring of 1986, I was helping my boyfriend do administrative work at the New York Life office in Skokie, IL, the well-known Jewish hub of Chicago.
In an adjacent office sat a beautiful Orthodox Jewish woman (I say Jewish orthodox because my boyfriend at the time was Green Orthodox), Chaya Hirshman. One day, she called me into her office, asked me to sit and describe the art and artifacts decorating her office. My response was, “well, I am not sure what everything is but I do know it is a lot of Jewish stuff.” She smiled and reached across the desk to place her hand upon mine. And with bold confidence and gentle voice she said to me, “Kim, you have a Jewish soul.” I must admit, I had no idea what that meant and it was so unexpected that the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “I do?” While inside my thoughts were like a ping-pong machine. “What in the world is she talking about? What does this m
21分