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This week’s parshah starts off discussing the death of our matriarch Sarah, and the process that Abraham went through in order to find her an appropriate gravesite. Because it was in the city of Chevron where Sarah had passed away (this was where she and Abraham had been living for many years), Abraham chose to meet with the children of Heth, the other inhabitants of that region, in order to discuss the acquisition of a burial place. The Torah portrays Abrahams opening words as follows:

“Abraham rose up…and spoke to the children of Heth, saying: ‘I am a stranger and a resident among you; grant me an estate for a burial site…” [Genesis: 23: 3-4]

Many commentators jump on the obvious question: How is it possible to be both a stranger (a non-resident) and a resident at once!? Either you live there or you don’t! What did Abraham mean by this apparent dichotomy?

There are many simple answers to this question, but we’ll try to focus on one. “I am a stranger and a resident” does not have to be explained in geographic terms; Abraham was not necessarily describing the particulars of his citizenship with the children of Heth. Rather, Abraham’s statement was meant to depict his status as a human being on this earth.

As humans, one of our main priorities in life is to constantly remind ourselves that we act as both “strangers” and “residents” in this world. It is clear that by the very fact that we are living on this earth, we are seen as “residents”. But at the same time, it is incumbent upon us to realize that this world is transient, and is seen merely as a corridor leading us to the next world, which is our true and permanent dwelling. We live our physical lives here solely to perform God’s commandments, thereby attaining the necessary merit to enter the next world. In this regard, we must view ourselves as “strangers” in this world. Throughout our lives, we must strive to attain the proper balance between these two modes of “citizenship” in our every endeavor.

But now we may ask: Why is this idea taught at this particular junction? How does this concept relate to our parshah, pertaining to Sarah’s passing?

The answer is quite obvious. It is only upon death that this dichotomy is truly realized. The process of death and burial is no doubt a clear demonstration that the soul has departed this world, which attests to the fact that the person had been a “stranger” in his previous lifetime. But, now that the soul has departed, what happens to this person’s status as “resident”? Do we say that it is now a “resident” in the world to come? If so, then what happens to its “stranger” status? Can it still possess both?

In truth, even upon death, a person’s soul can eternally be both a “stranger” and “resident” in this world. On a simple level, there is an idea that although one has moved onto the next world, he/she is always watching over the ones he/she has left behind, and can even have an influence upon them, though they don’t necessarily see it. In this way, the soul can still be seen as a “resident” on this earth. But, perhaps on a more profound level, it is through a person’s actions during his/her lifetime on this earth that can ascribe him/her as a “resident” even after death. If a person spent his/her life dedicated to meaningful and honorable pursuits, their name can live on forever and their memory can impact the lives of others who are still living on this earth. However, it is so unfortunate when most of one’s life is spent chasing after emptiness and vanity, to the point where his/her status as a “resident” gets completely “revoked” upon death. And because they have become so steeped in the pleasures of this world, they are even deemed a “stranger” in the next world.

Like Abraham, we must always consider ourselves as “strangers” and “residents” in this world, and through our deeds may we likewise retain these designations even upon our entrance into the next world.

Good Shabbos,

NZL