That's the weight hanging over Abraham as our story begins.

The Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating collection of stories and interpretations from around the 8th century, tells us that Abraham’s return from Mount Moriah was filled with sorrow. Remember, he'd just been through the unimaginable ordeal of the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac. He was returning, we’re told, from that very mountain. "And Abraham came to mourn for Sarah" (Gen. 23:2). He came home to find Sarah had passed away.

Can you even begin to imagine the emotional whiplash?

But the Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer doesn't linger on the immediate grief. Instead, it offers a poignant observation about love, loss, and the shifting tides of family.

Rabbi José offers a fascinating insight into Isaac's life after Sarah's death. He suggests that Isaac mourned his mother for three long years. Three years of grief, of absence, a shadow hanging over everything.

Then, after those three years, Rebecca enters the picture. Isaac marries her, and, according to Rabbi José, he "forgot the mourning for his mother." Now, that might sound harsh, but let’s consider what’s really being said here.

The text continues with a powerful observation: "Hence thou mayest learn that until a man marries a wife his love centres in his parents. When he marries a wife his love is bestowed upon his wife, as it is said, 'Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife' (Gen. 2:24)."

This isn’t about abandoning familial duty. It's about the natural progression of love and commitment. Does a man then leave his father and mother with reference to the precept, "Honour"? Of course not! The Torah commands us to honor our parents.

But, the text clarifies, "the love of his soul cleaves unto his wife." The Hebrew word used here, davaq, translated as "cleave," is powerful. It suggests a deep, almost mystical connection. It's the same word used when describing Shechem's love for Dinah in Genesis 34:3, "And his soul clave (unto Dinah)." And it echoes again in the verse about marriage, "And he shall cleave unto his wife" (Gen. 2:24).

The implication is clear: Marriage creates a new center of gravity. It doesn’t erase the past, or diminish the love for one's parents, but it establishes a new primary bond, a new foundation upon which to build a life.

Isn't it interesting how this ancient text, born from a moment of profound grief and loss, offers us a glimpse into the ever-evolving dynamics of love and family? It reminds us that love isn't a fixed quantity, but a flowing river, constantly finding new paths and shaping the landscape of our lives. And it all started with Abraham's long walk home from Mount Moriah.