A guiding principle found throughout the Midrashim and commentaries on the book of Bereshit is מַעֲשֵׂה אָבוֹת סִימָן לַבָּנִים – "the actions of the forefathers are a sign for their descendants." This means that the stories we learn about the patriarchs and matriarchs are not just ancient history. They are our story – the story of what we have gone through and what is yet to come. Looking closely at the founding generation of our nation is like studying the spiritual DNA of all of us.
In this week's parsha, Abraham and Sarah – both elderly – receive a message from three visitors that they will soon have a son. Sarah's reaction to this news was laughter:
וַתִּצְחַק שָׂרָה בְּקִרְבָּהּ לֵאמֹר אַחֲרֵי בְלֹתִי הָיְתָה־לִּי עֶדְנָה וַאדֹנִי זָקֵן (יז, יב)
Abraham also laughed when he heard the message in the previous parsha:
וַיִּפֹּל אַבְרָהָם עַל־פָּנָיו וַיִּצְחָק וַיֹּאמֶר בְּלִבּוֹ הַלְּבֶן מֵאָה־שָׁנָה יִוָּלֵד וְאִם־שָׂרָה הֲבַת־תִּשְׁעִים שָׁנָה תֵּלֵד (יז, יז)
Their laughter expressed how impossible the situation seemed; a 90-year-old woman simply cannot have a child. Physically, the conditions for pregnancy no longer exist. Naturally, there was no chance at all.
Later in the parsha, after Sarah gives birth, the laughter returns:
וַתֹּאמֶר שָׂרָה צְחֹק עָשָׂה לִי אֱ–לֹהִים כָּל־הַשֹּׁמֵעַ יִצְחַק־לִי (כא, ו)
Hearing that a 90-year-old woman gave birth and was nursing a baby is unbelievable, even humorous. And this laughter, shared by Abraham, Sarah, and everyone around them, is given lasting expression through Hashem's command:
וַיֹּאמֶר אֱ–לֹהִים אֲבָל שָׂרָה אִשְׁתְּךָ יֹלֶדֶת לְךָ בֵּן וְקָרָאתָ אֶת־שְׁמוֹ יִצְחָק (יז, יט)
Hashem instructs Abraham to name the child Yitzchak – "he will laugh" – immortalizing that spontaneous human reaction of laughter.
My rabbi, Rabbi Binyamin Rosenzweig z"l, taught that this story carries a message for all generations of the Jewish people. Hashem established from Abraham and Sarah a nation whose very identity includes the ability to believe in and accomplish the impossible. Abraham and Sarah were too old to have children, yet they believed in Hashem's word, and after 25 years of wandering through Canaan, Egypt, and Gerar – Yitzchak was born.
This same quality continues through the generations. A nation enslaved in Egypt for centuries believed that one day they would go free and become a מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים וְגוֹי קָדוֹש – they waited for the message, פָּקֹד פָּקַדְתִּי אֶתְכֶם.
That same faith in impossible redemption carried us through the darkest exiles – through the Crusades, the pogroms, and the expulsions. A nation whose people stood in line for the gas chambers of Auschwitz and other death camps rose, only three years later, to rebuild the State of Israel. The vision of Ezekiel's dry bones came to life before our very eyes. We are the children of Yitzchak – so accustomed to the impossible that it has become almost ordinary to us.
This idea is also reflected in our prayers. When we pray for the coming of the Messiah, we say אֶת צֶמַח דָּוִד עַבְדֶּךָ מְהֵרָה תַּצְמִיח. This metaphor compares the kingdom of David to a growing plant. If we look closely at that image, we can understand the nation's journey toward redemption. When a seed is planted in the ground, it doesn't sprout right away. At first it is buried, hidden from sight, even begins to decay. For a while, nothing seems to be happening; it looks hopeless. But beneath the surface, a powerful process is taking place – growth and development – until suddenly the plant breaks through and appears above ground.
The coming of the משיח, the rebirth of Israel, the return to Zion – all these are processes that, on the surface, seem impossible. But from Abraham, Sarah, and Yitzchak, we have learned that the impossible is, in fact, possible.
