Our Parsha starts with an end, the end of Sarah’s life. The words used to describe Sarah’s life beautifully capture the sentiment that in one life, we live multiple lives: “And the lives of Sarah were one hundred years and twenty years and seven years” (Bereishit 23:1). “The lives of Sarah,” written in the plural, makes it sound as if there were many lives lived by Sarah. And the repetition of the word “years” is explained by Rashi to mean that all those lives were equally good.

Rashi is saying that despite all the travails that we know Sarah lived through—immigrating to an entirely new place with her husband, being kidnapped by a king in Egypt, struggling with infertility, and almost losing her son at the Akeida—somehow they were all perceived as good.

The Netziv, in his commentary on the Torah, Haamek Davar, goes even further. He writes that while the word “chayyim” can simply mean “life,” it can also mean a life of happiness and without sadness (Haamek Davar on Bereishit 23:1). He explains that, while Avraham had greater prophecy than Sarah, Sarah had greater ruach hakodesh, holy spirit, than Avraham, by virtue of her tremendous happiness and trust in G-d.

And yet we know that she faced so many trials and tribulations—how can she have been truly constantly happy?

Chizkuni says that Sarah’s years without children were so difficult for her, that her “years” really only started when Yitzchak was born. He plays with the gematria of the first word of our parsha, —ויהיו—which is 37—to say that Sarah’s real life commenced with the birth of Yitzchak, when she was 90 years old, whereas she died on the day of the binding of Yitzchak, 37 years later
(Chizkuni on Bereishit 23:1).

Chizkuni paints a picture of a Sarah whose life was deeply affected by suffering. But perhaps even more strikingly, we find a similar theme in Rashi himself. Rashi starts his comments on the parsha saying that all her years were equally good. He explains that her death was one of heartbreak. Commenting on the fact that the narrative of the death of Sarah follows immediately on that of the Binding of Yitzchak, he writes; “because through the announcement of the binding—that her son had been made ready for sacrifice and had almost been sacrificed—she received a great shock (literally, her soul flew from her) and she died” (Rashi on Bereishit 23:2).

These commentators seem to paint contradictory but equally passive perspectives on Sarah’s life. Either she suffered greatly and accepted it or perceived all of her life as good. How can we resolve this apparent conflict in the commentaries?

A hint of an answer can be found in the Eish Kodesh. The Piaseczno Rebbe powerfully writes of the death of Sarah, as representing something of a protest. He writes:

The faithful shepherd, Moshe Rabbeinu, juxtaposed Sarah’s death with the Akeida to advocate on our behalf, illustrating that excessive suffering can cause even the greatest soul, like Sarah’s, to leave the body. If Sarah, who was as pure at one hundred as she was at twenty, and whose years were all equally good, could not withstand such intense suffering, how much more so can we not endure (Eish Kodesh, Jewish Year 5700, Chayei Sara).

This explanation ties together our seeming contradiction. The Eish Kodesh essentially is saying that all her years were indeed good and perceived as good. She had faith despite the immense challenges she faced. Yet, in the last moment of her life, the knowledge of the potential sacrifice of her only son was just too much. He emphasizes that this was NOT a failure at the end, rather an act of bravery that was meant as a protest on our behalf. This is the opposite of a passive stance on life, rather one where one can argue with G-d and advocate for ourself and others.

How do we sum up the life of our matriarch? The name of our parsha and its opening hint that we don’t live just one life, we live many seasons, ones of sadness and others of joy. And that their sum can be a tapestry, whole and beautiful like the many years of Sarah’s life. Sarah shows us that we need not be passive, that we can use our voice to react to the trials and tribulations we face. It is not enough to say “it is all for the best” We can and must use our voice to protest. In her last moment she gave us this gift.