A Divine Nod at Mom’s Burial

A Divine Nod at Mom’s Burial

Mom loved reading the weekly parsha. And she wasn’t one of those fair-weather parsha readers, sticking it out through Bereishit and Shmot and then fizzling out. No, not Mom. She read every week. Through the sacrifices. And the construction of the tabernacle. And the countings of the Jewish people. And the stations in the desert. Without fail.

The Menorat HaMeor tells the story of a man who studied the Talmudic tractate Hagiga over and over, with tremendous dedication. That was the only tractate he ever learned, but he knew it by heart. One day the man died, but he lived alone, so nobody knew. A woman appeared in the town and cried and screamed until a crowd gathered, and she urgently implored the people to provide a burial to this exceptionally righteous man, who had honored her his whole life. When they asked the woman her name, she said, “My name is Hagiga.”

Mom, like that man, wasn’t particularly learned in other Jewish books. But the parsha, that was hers. And that’s why my heart jumped at the funeral when the rabbi pointed out that Mom was being buried during the week of Parshat Chayei Sara, the parsha in which Abraham buys a grave for and buries his beloved wife, Sara Imenu. A Divine nod, I felt, to honor this woman who had honored His Torah, and His weekly parsha, her whole life.

3 comments

  1. No words…

  2. Amazing!

  3. Oh Chana Jenny, all the insights you have been sharing about your mother are just beautiful. May all that your very special JewishMOM gave you give you much strength.

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