To infuse a home with sanctity, Sarah showed, one must show reverence for all things holy

Biting winds, flurries of snow, and needles of rain — no wonder that in the jaws of winter our homes become a sanctuary. We leave only reluctantly, returning eagerly to the warmth and light, the scent of hearty soup, and the comfort that home provides. Our homes are our havens, playing the dual role of protection — sheltering us from the elements — and comfort,  in that home is the place where we bask in warmth and light and acceptance.

If these two elements — protection and comfort — are ideally present in every house, let us return to the very first Jewish home to trace their origins. The tent of Sarah Imeinu may have been constructed of animal skins and rough woolen rugs instead of bricks and mortar, but she teaches us the essence of building a Jewish home. The Midrash tells us that the beautiful paean to the Jewish woman sung every Friday night, Eishes Chayil, was first said by Avraham Avinu in a eulogy to Sarah Imeinu. It’s endlessly profound layers praise each aspect of Sarah Imeinu’s spiritual work. The Midrash highlights the verse: “Darshah tzemer u’pishtim” — She seeks wool and flax (Mishlei 31:13), and broadens it beyond the demands of the spinning wheel.

Wool and Flax

The art of separating wool and flax, the Midrash explains, refers to the way Sarah separated wool — representing Yitzchak — from flax, the errant Yishmael. While Avraham, the quintessential man of chesed, did not see the need to banish his child, or the danger of allowing him to remain as part of the household, Sarah was able to identify the evil that dwelled, albeit disguised, among them. She had the clarity to recommend a definite course of action, which Avraham agreed to implement though it contradicted his basic essence. The consensus was to send away Yishmael and thereby protect the sanctity of their home.

In her actions, Sarah enacted the very basic level of the word: bayis. Looking at the makeup of the word, the beis represents the power of binah, intuitive understanding — of what to allow into one’s home and what must be banished. Yud, letter of holiness, represents the kedushah that should pervade a Jewish home. The letter taf means a sign: a sign to the outside world, showing us that the Jewish home impacts the world without. By sending away Yishmael, Sarah modeled for us the first and primary function of a bayis: a place where the walls, the mortar, bricks. and roof protect and shelter us from the bitter, unsavoury winds that blow rife through the world.

This role is uniquely suited to women’s nature. Men are compared to the shamayim; like the rain that comes down to earth, men bring the raw materials into the home. The word av, father, is related to the word avah, unbridled desires, the aspect of abundant giving. A mother, in contrast, is compared to the earth, that which absorbs the raw material and allows it to sprout and grow. The word for mother, Ima, comes from the question im, “if,” to highlight the caution needed when cultivating life. Sarah Imenu is the model of one who understood the importance of the environment — the soil in which one grows — and appreciates that it is crucial to weed out negative influences.

Sarah’s Laughter

On a deeper level, it was Sarah’s laughter that enabled her to identify the true nature of the laughter of Yishmael. When Sarah received the prophecy that she would have a child, the Torah tells us that she laughed. When Sarah denies this, Hashem responds no, she indeed laughed.

Rav Yisrael Belsky explains that Sara Imeinu felt that her yiras Shamayim was whole and that her laughter contained no trace of disbelief. Hashem responded that there was indeed a slight tinge of ridicule, so minute that even Sarah was not cognizant of it — she was only aware of a sense of gratitude and joy. However, even the slightest ridicule can puncture something of importance, reducing it to nothing — and thus she was faulted.

As a result of this experience, Sara Imeinu was very sensitive to the different nuances of laughter. Years later, hearing Yishmael laugh, she was able to discern what lay beneath his veneer of respect and refinement. She identified maliciousness in Yishmael’s laugh, one that showed a tendency toward idolatry and murder. The laughter that Sara Imeinu witnessed was a laughter of leitzanus, of mockery.

The separation of wool and linen, of Yitzchak and Yismael, is also the distinction between two types of laughter. Yitzchak represents the laughter of joy, of total commitment to Hashem. Yishmael represents the aspect of leitzanus, ridicule. Hashem created a world, something from nothing. A scoffer uses ridicule to make nothing from something. No idea, no person is too sacred to ridicule. The Maharal says that mockery has no end, the trait becomes embedded in one’s character until it is impossible to escape its pernicious influence. In banishing Yishmael, Sarah showed that this trait has no place in a Jewish home.

To infuse a home with sanctity, Sarah showed, one must show reverence for all things holy. To demonstrate respect for the Torah and those who learn it and observe it to the best of their ability — even if what we may dub as their “excessive chumras” make us feel uncomfortable — enables the spirit of Sarah Imeinu to pervade our homes.

Cloud of Glory

But a home is much more than protection from the wind and rain. A home is what is found within: warmth, love, light, nurturing, a place where our faults are tolerated and our strengths emphasized. And it is this that we find encapsulated in a later phrase of Avraham Avinu’s hesped: Oz v’hadar levushah. The Midrash states that these words refer to the Cloud of Glory that hovered over Sarah’s tent. Two additional signs of the sanctity of Sarah’s dwelling place were the blessing on the bread, which stayed fresh from week to week, and her candles which, similarly, never extinguished.

Years later, these signs were replicated in the Mishkan: the western candle stayed lit, the Lechem Hapanim remained fresh, and the cloud of Hashem rested upon the hallowed structure. On a deeper level, the warm freshness of the Lechem Hapanim signifies Sarah Imeinu’s ability to transform the physical world into spirituality. Sarah excelled in harnessing our material needs as a means to serve Hashem — an ability which we, as Jewish women have inherited from our forebear. The candles which Sarah lit represent the way in which she bathed the world with the light of Torah. The many talmidos Sarah brought to recognition of Hashem were a shining light for future generations. Finally, the cloud that hung over her tent reflected the purity that infused her home. Indeed, these three elements find their expression in the three women’s mitzvos that even today, millennia after Sarah’s passing, fill our own lives with sanctity and meaning.

The Gemara teaches that each Friday night, a person returning from shul is accompanied by two angels. They look for a set table, lit candles, and an orderly home. These three items parallel the three blessings found in Sarah’s tent. Each week, we strive to bring these three primary ingredients into our own homes.

One easy way to tap into Sarah’s ability to uplift the physical into the spiritual comes by means of a simple statement: L’kavod Shabbos Kodesh. When we use our gift of speech — the gift which connects two people, and bridges our inner world of thought with the outer world of action — to proclaim that this food, garment, or tableware is to be used for Shabbos, we transform the mundane, physical aspects of our life into something holy and spiritual. By showing our respect and deep gratitude for the Torah, its mitzvos and guidance, we fill our homes with light.

Walking in Sarah’s footsteps — both in separating “the wool from the flax” and infusing our homes with the jubilant freshness of ruchniyus — will ensure that our homes remain pure and protected by a cloud of sanctity: Hashem’s loving presence.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 420)