6 min read

Abraham Rose From Sarah's Body and the Angel of Death Was Still There

The ram was still burning when he started counting daughters for Isaac. He came home to a quiet tent, and Death was still standing there.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. He Counted Daughters on the Way Down
  2. The House Was Quiet
  3. The Angel of Death Waited
  4. He Weighed Four Hundred Shekels
  5. The Girl Already Born
Abraham Rose From Sarah's Body and the Angel of Death Was Still There Click for full size

He Counted Daughters on the Way Down

The ram was still burning behind them and Abraham was doing sums.

If the knife had gone down, the boy would have died with no children. That was the thought that would not leave him on the descent. Not the angel. Not the voice. Not the thicket. The empty generations on the other side of a hand that had almost finished the stroke.

So he made a plan on the road. Aner, Eshkol, and Mamre had daughters. They were decent men and their daughters were decent women, and none of them came from anything. Fine. Let the boy marry one of them and let it be done this year. What do I care about lineage.

God stopped him before he got home. "There is no need. The girl your son is going to marry has already been born."

Word had come from Aram while he was on the mountain. Milkah has had children too. Eight sons from the wife, four from the concubine, the same count that would run in his own house one day, and one of those sons had a daughter.

The House Was Quiet

Nobody could later agree where he was walking in from. Rabbi Levi said he came from burying his father Terah. Rabbi Yosei counted the years out loud and told him no. Terah had been two years in the ground already.

He came from Moriah. That is why the binding sits in the scroll directly against the line about the years of Sarah's life, with nothing between them.

The account of what had happened up there reached her before her husband did. An old man had taken her only son up a mountain, tied him hand and foot on a pile of wood, and lifted a knife over his throat.

She died of it.

Isaac walked home alive. His mother had already stopped breathing over a rescue nobody had run ahead to tell her about.

The Angel of Death Waited

He came in and lay down over her and wept, and then he got up off the floor.

The Angel of Death was standing in front of him, squared off, not moving. It had not come for her and gone. It had stayed to be looked at.

Abraham stood in his own tent with the thing that had emptied it, and neither of them said anything, and then he turned and went out to speak to the Hittites about ground.

Out of that morning came the one exemption the tradition grants to grief. A man with his dead still lying in front of him owes heaven nothing at all. Not the Shema, not the prayers, not the straps on his arm, nothing. He rose, and he spoke. Until he rises, nobody may ask him for anything.

He Weighed Four Hundred Shekels

They offered him any tomb he wanted, for nothing, because he was a prince among them. He bowed to them and refused. He wanted Ephron's cave and the field it stood in and the trees on the field, and he weighed the silver out at the city gate with the whole town counting, four hundred shekels, merchant's weight, no haggling.

The first thing his family ever owned in the land they had been promised was a hole in the rock for a dead woman.

Thirty-eight years later they carried him out to the same field. Isaac and Ishmael came together. The son of the maidservant stepped back at the mouth of the cave and let the son of the mistress go in first.

Shem and Ever walked ahead of the bier. They went into the cave first, and there beside Sarah was an empty place, exactly the size of the man behind them, cut and waiting the whole time. Everyone who had come out to do kindness for Sarah lived to do the same kindness for her husband.

The Girl Already Born

The girl born in Aram was Rebekah, and Rebekah had a brother. When Rebekah's son Jacob came over that same road with nothing, Laban ran out to meet him at a dead run. He had done this before. Eliezer had come with ten camels, and Eliezer was only a servant. This one was the family favorite, so where was it.

He threw his arms around him. Coins in the belt, he thought, patting. Nothing.

He kissed him. Gems in his mouth, maybe. Nothing.

"What did you think," Jacob said. "That I came carrying money? I came carrying words."

In that house there were two daughters, and the neighbors had the whole thing worked out in the street. The older girl for the older boy, the younger girl for the younger. Leah heard for years that she was going to Esau. She wept until her eyes were weak, and what she said while she wept was one sentence, over and over. Let it not be my lot to fall to that wicked man.

Prayer is strong, Rav Huna said. It broke the decree, and it put her ahead of her sister in the bargain. She married Jacob first. Her eyes never came all the way back. Abraham had come down Moriah willing to take any decent girl. God had already chosen a house that would collect its bill in full.

PatriarchsMatriarchsBereshit RabbahAbrahamSarahJacobLeah
← All myths

From the tradition

Sources

9 sources

The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Bereshit Rabbah 57:3Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The ancient rabbis certainly did, and they explored this question through stories, through midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) – those beautiful, imaginative expansions on the biblical text. to one such exploration, found in Bereshit Rabbah 57, a section of the great commentary on the Book of Genesis.

What "matters," what devarim, are we talking about? The Rabbis aren't shy about filling in the gaps. They tell us it refers to the thoughts swirling in Abraham's mind after the near-sacrifice of Isaac, the Akeidah.

Abraham's turmoil. He's just been through the ultimate test of faith. Now, he's confronting the practical realities. According to this midrash, Abraham is thinking, "Had Isaac died on Mount Moriah, he would have died childless! What am I going to do? I’ll have to marry him off to one of the daughters of Aner, Eshkol, and Mamre, my Canaanite allies. They're righteous men. Lineage doesn't matter so much, does it?" These are the very human, agonizing calculations of a father concerned for his son's future and legacy.

Then, a divine interruption. Bereshit Rabbah tells us that the Holy One, blessed be He, responds to Abraham’s internal debate. God says, "You need not do that; Isaac’s spouse has already been born." It's a powerful statement about divine providence, about the idea that some things are already in motion, beyond our immediate control.

And how is this divine intervention revealed? Through the seemingly simple statement: “Behold, Milka, she too has borne.” Now, why the emphasis on "she too"? The Rabbis, masters of textual interpretation, seize on this repetition. It would have been sufficient to say “she has borne,” yet it says “she too has borne.” This “too” implies a comparison.

Just as with Sarah’s descendants, there were eight children born to the main wives of Jacob and four children born to concubines, so too with Milka, there were eight children born to the main wife, and four children born to the concubine. This parallel structure, they suggest, hints at a deeper connection, a preordained symmetry in the unfolding of family lines and destinies.

What does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in moments of intense personal struggle and decision-making, there are forces at play beyond our comprehension. Abraham, wrestling with Isaac's future, is reminded that God has a plan, a plan already set in motion. That even when we're making choices, big or small, we're part of a larger tapestry, woven with threads of destiny and divine intention. It doesn't negate our free will, but it does offer a sense of hope and assurance that we're not entirely alone in shaping our lives.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 58:5Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The Torah tells us, "Abraham came to lament for Sarah, and to weep for her" (Genesis 23:2). Simple enough. But where did he come from? That's where things get interesting.

The sages of old loved to fill in the gaps, to paint a richer picture. And in Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, they wrestle with this very question.

Rabbi Levi offers one possibility: Abraham came from the funeral of his father, Teraḥ. Think about the weight of that. Burying a parent, then immediately facing the death of his beloved wife, Sarah. It's a double blow of grief, a gut-wrenching image of loss upon loss.

Rabbi Yosei raises a compelling objection. Time doesn't quite line up. According to the biblical timeline (Genesis 11:26 and 11:32, and (Genesis 17:1)7), Teraḥ actually died two years before Sarah. So, if not from his father’s funeral, then where?

Rabbi Yosei offers a much more powerful, and frankly, heartbreaking alternative: Abraham came from Mount Moriah.

Wait for it…

Yes, Mount Moriah. The very place where the Akeidah, the Binding of Isaac, had just taken place. The place where Abraham, in a moment of almost unimaginable faith, was prepared to sacrifice his own son at God's command.

Suddenly, the juxtaposition in the Torah becomes crystal clear. The Akeidah and Sarah's death aren't just near each other in the text; they're intrinsically linked. As Bereshit Rabbah states plainly, “Sarah died as a result of grief over that incident. That is why the binding [of Isaac] is juxtaposed to 'Sarah's lifetime was.'" from Sarah’s perspective. Imagine hearing the news, perhaps secondhand, of what Abraham had been willing to do. The sheer terror, the profound shock, the potential for feeling betrayed and heartbroken… It’s a devastating scenario.

It paints a picture of a woman who, even in her old age, was deeply connected to her family and deeply affected by the trials they faced. Abraham, returning from that earth-shattering experience, finds his world crumbling. The grief is compounded not just by the loss of his wife, but by the knowledge that his actions, however divinely inspired, may have contributed to her demise.

So, what does this all mean? It’s a reminder that even the most righteous figures in our tradition faced unimaginable moral dilemmas and experienced profound emotional pain. It's a stark illustration of the ripple effects of trauma, and how even acts of faith can have devastating consequences. And perhaps, most importantly, it's evidence of the enduring power of love and loss that echoes through the generations.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 62:2Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Bereshit Rabbah turns to Ishmael and Creation of Abraham.

"Isaac and Ishmael his sons buried him in the cave of Makhpela, in the field of Efron, son of Tzohar the Hittite, that is before Mamre" (Genesis 25:9). A simple statement. But the rabbis saw so much more.

The text continues, "Isaac and Ishmael his sons buried him in the cave of Makhpela" – and here, the Bereshit Rabbah pauses, drawing our attention to a subtle, yet powerful act. The text notes that Ishmael, the son of Hagar, the maidservant, accorded honor to Isaac, the son of Sarah, the mistress, by allowing him to go first. What could have been a moment of potential conflict, of vying for position, instead became an act of deference, of recognizing and respecting Isaac's status.

Then comes another verse: "The field that Abraham purchased from the children of Ḥet; there Abraham was buried, and Sarah his wife" (Genesis 25:10). And here, Rabbi Tanhuma raises a fascinating question. "Were there not thirty-eight years between Sarah's burial and Abraham's burial? And yet you say here: 'There Abraham was buried, and Sarah his wife'?" Why mention Sarah's burial at this point, so long after the fact?

The answer, according to the midrash, is beautiful: "It is to teach you that everyone who performed kindness to Sarah [in attending her funeral] was privileged to perform kindness for Abraham [in attending his funeral as well]." Those who honored Sarah in her passing were rewarded with the opportunity to honor Abraham as well.

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman adds another layer to this understanding. He says that Shem and Ever, figures of immense stature in the biblical narrative, were walking before Abraham's bier. They saw an empty spot alongside Sarah, clearly designated for Abraham, and they buried him there, "in the place that was prepared and designated for him." So, Sarah's burial is mentioned again to highlight this preordained connection, this sense of destiny fulfilled. This also reveals the profound respect for honoring the deceased, and ensuring they are laid to rest properly.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 70:13Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Take the meeting of Jacob and Rachel at the well. We read in (Genesis 29:12), "Jacob told Rachel that he was her father’s brother, and that he was Rebecca’s son, and she ran and told her father." But what's really going on in this encounter?

The sages of Bereshit Rabbah, that incredible collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, delve deep into this moment. Why did Jacob choose those specific words? "Jacob told Rachel that he was [her father’s] brother, and that he was Rebecca’s son" – the Rabbis see a duality in his statement. Was he being cunning, or forthright? "If being deceitful, ‘that he was her father’s brother’; if being righteous, ‘that he was Rebecca’s son. Was Jacob trying to subtly imply a power dynamic, or simply stating his lineage?

What about Rachel’s reaction? "And she ran and told her father." Now, Rabbi Yoḥanan offers an interesting perspective: "A woman is always accustomed only to her mother’s house." Why would she immediately run to her father, Laban?

One of his students questioned this, pointing out the verse itself! But Rabbi Yoḥanan clarifies, "It is because her mother had died. Who should she have told if not her father?" Simple as that – a poignant detail easily overlooked. This highlights the importance of understanding the full context, even the unwritten parts of the story.

Then comes Laban’s dramatic entrance. "It was when Laban heard the news of Jacob his sister’s son, he ran to meet him, embraced him, kissed him, and brought him to his house. He related to Laban all these matters" (Genesis 29:13). But Laban’s welcome might not be as genuine as it appears.

According to Bereshit Rabbah, Laban's mind is racing. "He [Laban] said: ‘Eliezer was the most defective one of the household, as it is written: “The servant took ten camels” (Genesis 24:10); this one, who is the most beloved of the household, all the more so." In other words, if Eliezer, just a servant, arrived with such riches, surely Jacob, the favored nephew, must be loaded!

The Rabbis continue to paint a picture of Laban's increasingly desperate search for wealth. "When he did not see even a knapsack, 'he embraced him' – he said: ‘They are dinars and they are in his belt.’" (A dinar was a gold coin). The embrace wasn’t out of affection, but a calculated move! Finding nothing there, "he kissed him – he said: ‘Perhaps they are gems and they are in his mouth.’" Can you imagine the scene? All that feigned affection, masking a greedy search.

Finally, Jacob sets the record straight. "When he did not see anything, Jacob said to him: ‘What do you think, that I came bearing money? I came only bearing words’ – 'He related to Laban.'" The Rabbis highlight the contrast between Laban’s expectations and Jacob’s reality. Jacob arrived not with material wealth, but with a story, a connection, and a promise of labor.

So, what does this all mean? This short passage in Genesis, expanded through the lens of Bereshit Rabbah, reveals the complexities of human interaction – the potential for deception, the importance of context, and the often-hidden motivations behind our actions.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 70:16Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The familiar story centers on Jacob, Rachel, and Leah. But have you ever paused to really consider Leah's eyes? (Genesis 29:17) tells us, "Leah’s eyes were delicate and Rachel was of beautiful form and of beautiful appearance." Simple enough. But like with so much in Torah, the deeper you dig, the more fascinating it gets.

So, what does "delicate" really mean?

Well, according to Rabbi Yoḥanan's disseminator (essentially his teaching assistant, who passed along his wisdom), "Leah’s eyes were weak…from birth." But why? What caused this weakness?

The text goes on: "They were delicate from weeping." Weeping? Why would Leah weep? Here's where we get into the whispers of fate and the power of prayer.

Apparently, "people would say: ‘These were the stipulations: The elder to the elder and the younger to the younger.’" In other words, the gossip mill had it that Leah, the elder daughter of Laban, was destined to marry Esau, the elder son of Isaac. And Rachel, the younger sister, was to marry Jacob.

Esau! The man who sold his birthright for a bowl of stew! The man known for his… less-than-refined character, to put it mildly.

So, Leah wept. She pleaded. She poured her heart out, praying, "May it be His will that I will not fall to the lot of that wicked man." And according to Rav Huna, that prayer, those tears, held immense power. "Prayer is powerful," he says, "as it nullified the decree." Leah, through her heartfelt supplication, changed her destiny. She altered the course of her life and, arguably, the course of history. And not only that, but "she preceded her sister," becoming Jacob's first wife, the mother of many tribes of Israel.

All because of tears.

Now, the text continues, "Rachel was of beautiful form." The primary distinctive characteristic of Rachel was that she was fair. The Torah seems to highlight Rachel's external beauty, in contrast to Leah's inner strength and the power of her prayer.

What qualities do we value? What kind of strength do we overlook? And how often do we underestimate the power of a sincere, heartfelt plea? The story of Leah's eyes reminds us that true beauty lies not just in outward appearance, but in the depths of our souls and the unwavering faith that can move mountains – or, perhaps, reroute the course of a river of tears.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 73:12Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The Torah, in the story of Jacob, gives us a masterclass in reading those unspoken cues.

It all starts when Jacob, working for his less-than-honest father-in-law Laban, begins to prosper. (Genesis 31:1) tells us, “He heard the words of Laban’s sons, saying: Jacob has taken everything that is our father’s, and from that which is our father’s he has accumulated all this wealth.” Seems straightforward. But the Rabbis find layers of meaning even here.

Rabbi Hizkiya, in Bereshit Rabbah 73, offers a fascinating insight: before Jacob arrived, Laban wasn't even known to have sons! It was Jacob's presence, Jacob's blessing, that seemingly spurred Laban's family to grow. So, the very people complaining about Jacob's success owed their existence, in a way, to him.

What about this "wealth," the hakavod that Jacob accumulated? Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, explains that kavod, often translated as "glory" or "honor," really just means silver. He finds support for this definition in the prophet Nahum (2:10) who describes looting silver and gold, referring to this bounty as kavod. It's a reminder that even seemingly abstract concepts like "glory" can be grounded in the tangible realities of wealth and prosperity.

But the real turning point comes when Jacob picks up on Laban's shift in demeanor. “Jacob saw the countenance of Laban, and, behold, it was not toward him as in the past” (Genesis 31:2). It's subtle, almost imperceptible, but Jacob notices.

Bar Sira, quoted in Bereshit Rabbah, observes that a person's heart affects their countenance – for better or worse. Our faces betray our inner thoughts, don't they? We can try to hide it, but the truth often shines through.

And so, God steps in. Sensing the unease, the Divine tells Jacob, “Your father-in-law is not welcoming to you and you remain here? Return to the land of your fathers…and I will be with you” (Genesis 31:3). It's a divine nudge, a validation of Jacob's intuition. Sometimes, the universe confirms what we already suspect.

So what’s the takeaway? Pay attention. To the words spoken, yes, but also to the unspoken cues. To the subtle shifts in relationships. And maybe, just maybe, trust your gut – especially when it aligns with the whispers of the Divine. Because sometimes, the most important messages aren't spoken at all; they're etched on the faces of those around us.

Full source
Bereshit Rabbah 78:7Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

It’s a pretty universal experience, and it seems even Jacob, one of our patriarchs, felt it too.

Our story begins with Jacob's reunion with his brother, Esau, after many years of separation – a reunion fraught with potential danger. (Genesis 33:1) tells us, “Jacob lifted his eyes and saw, and behold, Esau came, and with him four hundred men. He divided the children among Leah, and Rachel, and the two maidservants.” It's that initial moment – "Jacob lifted his eyes and saw…" – that Bereshit Rabbah, the ancient rabbinic commentary on Genesis, really dives into.

Rabbi Levi offers a fascinating parable to illuminate Jacob's mindset. Imagine a lion, enraged and terrifying all the other animals. They desperately seek someone to appease it. A clever fox steps forward, boasting, "I know three hundred parables! I can placate him." Eagerly, they follow the fox.

Then, the fox falters. “I forgot one hundred,” it admits. The animals, still hopeful, say, “We'll manage with two hundred.” Further along the path, the fox stops again. “I forgot another hundred!” The animals, growing anxious, reply, “One hundred will suffice!”

Finally, as they reach the lion, the fox confesses, “I forgot them all! Instead, let each and every one placate for itself.”

Kind of a letdown. So, what does this have to do with Jacob?

Well, Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon and Rabbi Levi offer different interpretations, both linked to Jacob’s initial confidence. Rabbi Yehuda bar Simon suggests that Jacob initially believed he had the power of prayer to save him. Rabbi Levi, on the other hand, suggests that Jacob initially thought he could organize a war, ready to defend himself.

But then, reality hits. Esau is right there, with a small army at his back. And what does Jacob do? "He divided the children…" He realizes his own strength, his own strategies, might not be enough. Instead, he places his hope in something else.

As the text says, “He divided the children…he said: Let the merit of each and every person stand on his behalf.” He entrusted them to God. He acknowledged his own limitations. He relied on the inherent zechut, the merit or righteousness, of his family. Jacob, a man who wrestled with angels, a man known for his cunning, ultimately puts his faith in something beyond his own abilities. It's a powerful reminder that even in our most challenging moments, sometimes the best thing we can do is acknowledge our limitations and trust in something larger than ourselves. Maybe that's family, maybe that's community, maybe that's faith – but whatever it is, it's a humbling and ultimately hopeful message.

Full source
Yalkut Shimoni on Torah 102:13Yalkut Shimoni on Torah

Translation of the source text.Torat Emet (Yalkut Shimoni) · CC-BY-NC

"And Abraham came" (Genesis 23:2): from where did he come? Rabbi Levi said, he came to Sarah from the burial of Terah. Rabbi Yose said to him: but did not Terah's burial precede Sarah's burial by two years? Rather, from where did he come? He came from Mount Moriah, and Sarah died from that very anguish. Therefore the binding [of Isaac] is placed next to "And the life of Sarah was." "And Abraham rose up from before his dead" (Genesis 23:3-4): this teaches that he saw the Angel of Death brandishing himself against him. Rabbi Yochanan said: from where do we learn the teaching that one whose dead lies before him is exempt from the recitation of the Shema, and from prayer, and from tefillin, and from all the commandments stated in the Torah? From here: "And he rose up" and "and he spoke."

Full source
Yalkut Shimoni on Torah 102:4Yalkut Shimoni on Torah

Translation of the source text.Torat Emet (Yalkut Shimoni) · CC-BY-NC

Another interpretation of "After these things" (Genesis 22:20): after the troubling thoughts about the matters that had occurred there. Who was troubled by such thoughts? Abraham was troubled. He said: "Had Isaac died on Mount Moriah, he would have died without children. Now that a miracle was done for him, I will take a wife for him from the daughters of Aner, Eshkol, and Mamre, who are righteous women, even though they are not of distinguished lineage; for what does lineage matter to me?" The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: "There is no need. The mate of your son Isaac has already been born, as it is said, 'Behold, Milcah also has borne children' (Genesis 22:20)." What is the meaning of "also she"? Just as this one [Sarah] had children of the mistress numbering eight and children of the concubine numbering four, so too this one [Milcah, in her household] had children of the mistress numbering eight and children of the concubine numbering four.

Full source