Parashat Chayei Sarah

The Small Kaf כף צעירה Meditation (below)
for the women of this generation...

Avraham’s Tears in Connection
to our Path to Elevated Marriage / Zivugim

Rachel Leah Weiman / Cheshvan 5786

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Based on Netivot Shalom Chayei Sarah
 והסר שטן מלפנינו ומאחרינו
v'haser satan mil'faneinu u'mei'achoreinu
And remove Satan from before us and from behind us.

Sharing this Torah in the hope that we can strengthen one another —
to be sources of support in moments of nisayon, when the soul wavers during a nefilah —
a fall that follows standing strong before a trigger, or even after success.

To stay awake in the light of victory,
aware of the Satan Achareinu —
the subtle pull to slip back into old stories or attachments.

*

In daily life, this awareness unfolds quietly:

When waiting in line — pause instead of pushing forward.
When seeing a seat — offer it to another.
When reaching for food, attention, or validation —
pause before grabbing from the Etz HaDa’at.
Breathe with kavana instead.

Each of these moments re-educates our nature / taiva,
healing the culture of grabbing,
returning us to the path of Kavannah and Kedusha.

When we walk with others who feel left out —
those without a spouse / family / children,
those waiting to belong —
we continue Avraham’s humility.

We carry their broken hearts within our own,
so that, like Avraham,
we may walk וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו — together.

And in that togetherness,
we sanctify the descent —
turning it into rachamim / compassion,
and compassion into light.

*

May we become vessels / kelim to receive the light and bracha,
expanding our capacity to mekabel (receive) in order to give nachat ruach to our Creator —
to bring delight Above through our refinement below.

May this awareness elevate our relationships
and deepen the love / ahava between us,
and live in dveikut (loving connection) with Hashem.

— Rochel Leah, Cheshvan 5786

* * *

Before reciting the Shmona Esrei
of Ma’ariv, we beseech Hashem:
והסר שטן מלפנינו ומאחרינו
“Remove the Satan from before us and from behind us.”

What does this mean on a deeper level?

The Satan /yetzer hara / the inner inclination
challenges our connection to Hashem.

These are protective parts of the soul — fragments that react from fear or craving, trying to protect us but often misdirecting us from emunah and trust.

Satan Lifaneinu (שָׂטָן מִלְּפָנֵינוּ) —
is the part within that resists just before an act of kedusha —
before prayer, giving, learning, or creating.
It whispers, “Not now… you’re not ready…
wait until you’re stronger.”
A resistance to exposure — to standing bare before the light.
It protects the self from transformation,
trying to keep the old identity intact.
Yet this resistance is not evil;
it is a doorway —
the threshold where our da’at meets the unknown.

Satan Achareinu (שָׂטָן מֵאַחֲרֵינוּ)
comes after mountaintop moments
or moments of kedusha, when the act is done.
It arrives as ego, pride, regret, or self-critique —
anything that steals the stillness that follows the mitzvah.
Its work is subtle:
to undo the shleimut / wholeness
we just received.

Rather than fighting these parts, we meet them with compassion as nitzotzot she’noflu — fallen sparks yearning to return to their Source. Responding from our Neshama Elokit — the divine Self — redeems them into harmony, so they serve the Light rather than oppose it.

This is the heart of avodat ha-hitbonenut: transforming inner resistance into connection.

Reb Usher Freund taught precisely what to do in these moments — when, in times of kedusha, the mind floods with מחשבות זרות (blurry, foreign, intrusive thoughts). Instead of spiraling into self-blame or shame, he invites us to shift from “Something is wrong with me” to “I am held by Hashem even here.”

These thoughts are not failures but invitations to ביטול — to dissolve the illusion of separateness and remember that our strength is borrowed Light.

Rav Ashlag adds that these “nachash-thoughts” are not enemies but gifts of transformation — showing where our ratzon lekabel still clings to self. When met with humility, they become orech ha-teshuva — the very path that refines the vessel and draws more light.

Even confusion is a messenger of the Infinite,
calling us to transmute resistance into yearning

Every confusing thought, every whisper of the Satan lifaneinu or achareinu, carries within it a spark of Divine mercy — a hidden gift from Hashem. They appear not to break us but to offer us the chance to choose awareness, to transform reaction into response. This is our personal tikkun, the sacred labor of turning confusion into clarity, of making the choice to receive light in humility. Each thought that disturbs us is Hashem’s gentle question: Will you meet this moment with fear, or with emunah?

Reb Usher’s path reveals control redefined: not stopping thoughts, but choosing our response — returning to the humble knowing of “ואנכי עפר ואפר.”

Avraham’s greatness was not only in ascent, but in humility — in returning from Har Moriah with ואנכי
עפר ואפר upon his lips: “And I am dust and ashes.”

These words are not self-deprecation, but awareness — the deep knowing that everything we are is borrowed Light.

Afar (dust) is the ground of being —
our body, our limitation, our humanity.

Efer (ashes) is what remains after fire —
the essence purified through surrender.

Avraham teaches that kedusha does not end with the offering, nor with the flame on the altar.

True holiness continues in the descent — when the fire cools, when we walk back down the mountain and carry the sh broken hearts of those left waiting.

To say ואנכי עפר ואפר is to live the paradox of Divine service: to be nothing — and through that nothingness, to become a vessel for everything.

We learn to live with thoughts, not against them; to taste bitul without falling into yei’ush (despair). This is emunah peshutah — holy surrender in which confusion becomes clarity and Satan lifaneinu and Satan achareinu become one divine choreography: each moment an opportunity to choose awareness, to make space for the Shechinah, to let borrowed Light guide us home.

Avraham Avinu — The Test After the Test

After the Akeidah, Avraham descends not in triumph but in humility. The Netivot Shalom explains that his final greatness was not only in ascent but in descent — in walking back down the mountain with the pain of others in his heart.
The young servants were heartbroken, feeling left behind while a sublime avodah occurred near them. Avraham sensed their shattered hearts — שברון לב — and walked וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו — together with them. He carried their brokenness so as not to fall into זחות הדעת (haughty self-clarity). That is kedusha in descent: the holiness of remaining soft, present, and human after the miraculous.

Applying the Teaching in Our Lives

Avraham teaches that tests come both lifaneinu and achareinu — before and after holy moments. Before a mitzvah, the yetzer tries to distract us. After success, it tempts us to pride, weariness, or regret. The real avodah is after the ascent — to remain humble and connected, to walk with those who feel left out, and to turn awareness into compassion.

Reb Usher Freund reminds us: even in moments of illumination, when our minds fill with confusion, these are not failures but doors to bitul — an invitation to soften and make space for Hashem’s presence.

Rav Ashlag calls these the gifts of the nachash — the sparks that arise so we can transform them into Light.

Every confusing thought is itself a gift from Hashem, designed to give us the opportunity to choose again — to refine our ratzon lekabel and enact our tikkun. This is avodah after the ascent: to return gently, as Avraham did, with humility and awareness, carrying others’ pain without losing our own yishuv hadaas.

A Somatic Kabbalistic Meditation for Lifaneinu and Achareinu

How to Practice with Kavana

Anytime before or after a nisayon or a moment of elevation — a mitzvah, a chesed, learning, teaching, or creative success — pause at:
וְהָסֵר שָׂטָן מִלְּפָנֵינוּ וּמֵאַחֲרֵינוּ.

Let it become a full-body kavana:
Milfaneinu (לפנינו): Visualize the obstacles before you — hesitation, fear, confusion. Inhale, feeling the heart expand with trust. Whisper: “Hashem, remove the resistance before me.”
Me’achareinu (מאחרינו): Exhale not to push away negativity but to make space — to allow peace to settle after the deed. Say softly: “Hashem, make space behind me for Your Presence.”

Reb Usher Freund teaches here: when distraction arises even in kedusha, do not fight it. Gently see it as Hashem’s way of inviting you to return to bitul. Each breath is an opportunity to sense that “my koach is borrowed Light.”

Remember, even these thoughts — the flashes of confusion or distraction — are not random. They are gifts from Hashem, messengers of the nachash transformed. In that instant, Heaven offers us a choice: to fall back into grasping, or to breathe and open to yichud. This is the essence of tikkun — to choose again, with awareness, and to lift the fallen sparks of our own mind into kedusha.

Rav Ashlag adds: in this breathing awareness, you refine the ratzon lekabel and transform the nachash’s whisper into yearning for connection. This is the yichud of Kudsha Brich Hu u’Shechintei — the sacred union that happens when we make space instead of pushing away.


As you say these words at night, breathe gently — releasing both forward worry and backward attachment, resting in emunah that Hashem guards the passage between day and night.

Nighttime Kavana (From Hashkiveinu)

Master of the World, רִבּוֹנוֹ שֶׁל עוֹלָם,
You are before me and behind me — מלפני ומאחרי.
Fill my days with kedusha, presence, and yishuv hadaas.
Help me, Hashem, for on my own I cannot overcome my nature to grasp and control.
Teach me to be a vessel for Your Light.

When you reach these words in Hashkiveinu,
pause — let the lips soften around them.
Let them become a doorway into quiet emunah.

מִלְּפָנֵינוּ — Milfaneinu.
Feel the breath as it rises before you.
Notice the thoughts that rush to meet tomorrow —
the unfinished tasks, the questions, the hopes.
See them not as enemies,
but as children standing at the doorway of your night,
asking for reassurance.
Breathe in slowly, gathering them with compassion.
Whisper inwardly:
“Ribbono shel Olam, hold what lies before me.”
Let the inhale become an act of trust —
that tomorrow will unfold in its time.

מֵאַחֲרֵינוּ — Me’achareinu.
Feel the exhale moving behind you,
as if clearing a soft path through memory.
Sense the weight of the day —
its imprints, its mistakes, its unspoken words —
gently loosening from your shoulders.
Let the breath empty like a wave receding from the shore.
Not to push anything away,
but to make sacred space for Presence.
Whisper:
“Ribbono shel Olam, let what follows me rest in Your mercy.”

Then pause in stillness —
between inhale and exhale,
between past and future —
and feel Hashkiveinu Hashem Elokeinu l’shalom.
You are being laid down into peace,
guarded in the tender passage
between day and night,
effort and surrender,
doing and being.

Living the Teaching

In daily life, we practice this awareness in small ways:
When waiting in line instead of pushing forward.
When not grabbing a seat but making room for another.
When resisting the impulse to “grab” from the Etz HaDa’at — food, attention, validation — and instead pausing to breathe with kavana.

These moments re-educate our taiva, rectifying the culture of grabbing and returning to the path of Kavannah and Kedusha.
When we walk together with others who feel abandoned or left out — those without family, children, or a place in the circle — we continue Avraham’s humility.
We carry their broken hearts within our own, so that like Avraham, we may walk וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו — together — and sanctify the descent into compassion.

Closing Bracha

אַתָּה לְפָנַי וְאַתָּה מֵאַחֲרַי.

מַלֵּא אֶת שְׁנוֹתַי בְּקְדוּשָּׁה, בְּנוֹכְחוּת וּבְיִשּׁוּב הַדַּעַת.

You are before me and behind me.

Fill all my years with kedusha, presence, and peaceful awareness.

May we, like Avraham Avinu, learn that true greatness is not in ascent alone,

but in descent — in walking back down Har Moriah carrying the broken hearts of others,

in keeping our kedusha soft, human, and present.

כָּ֥ל עַצְמֹתַ֨י | תֹּאמַרְנָה֘ יְהֹוָ֗ה מִ֥י כָ֫מ֥וֹךָ
מַצִּ֣יל עָ֖נִי מֵֽחָזָ֣ק מִמֶּ֑נּוּ וְעָנִ֥י וְ֜אֶבְי֗וֹן מִגֹּֽזְלֽוֹ:

All my bones shall say, Hashem, who is like You,
Who saves a poor man from one stronger than he
and a poor man and a needy one from one who robs him.

Tehillim 35:10



***

Netivot Shalom on Chayei Sara

The Death of Sarah — Not a Tragedy but Completion

וַיִּהְיוּ חַיֵּי שָׂרָה מֵאָה שָׁנָה וְעֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה וְשֶׁבַע שָׁנִים; שְׁנֵי חַיֵּי שָׂרָה.
“Sarah’s lifetime was one hundred years, twenty years, and seven years; these were the years of Sarah’s life.” (Bereishit 23:1)

Rashi teaches: כֻּלָּן שָׁוִין לְטוֹבָה — all her years were equally good.
The Netivot Shalom asks: why does the Torah say שְׁנֵי חַיֵּי שָׂרָה — “the two lives of Sarah”?

He explains that the doubling hints to her perfect shleimut — wholeness in both body and soul. Her days were lived in kedusha, her years precisely numbered; she fulfilled her mission entirely.

The Hidden Test

The Netivot Shalom then reveals a great mystery.
He writes — humbly, with the words וְלוּלֵא דְּמִסְתַּפִּינָא לְמֵימַר (“were I not afraid to say”) — that Sarah’s death was not a tragedy, but another nisayon (test) for Avraham.

When the Satan saw that Avraham had conquered every previous trial, he devised one last deception —
חָבַל תַּחְבּוּלָה חֲדָשָׁה — a new scheme to ensnare him.

He knew that הִגִּיעַ זְמַנָּהּ שֶׁל שָׂרָה לְהִסְתַּלֵּק מִן הָעוֹלָם — Sarah’s appointed time had come to leave this world, that her life was complete.
But he arranged events so that it would seem as though she died from the shock of hearing about the Akeidah, when she learned that Yitzchak had nearly been sacrificed.

In doing this, the Satan wanted Avraham to fall into sorrow and doubt — to become תוהה על מעשים טובים שעשה — to regret his holy deed, to believe that his faithfulness had brought harm.

But Avraham, in אמונה פשוטה, simple, unwavering emunah, saw through the illusion.
He understood that Sarah’s years were perfectly measured —
נמנו שני חייה לומר שזה היה הזמן הקצוב לה לחיות, ואף לא רגע אחד יותר מזה.
Her death was not punishment but completion; not the end, but the fulfillment of her shnei chayei Sarah — her life in this world and her eternal life beyond it.

The Small Kaf כ — Tears of Emunah

Therefore, the Torah says:
וַיָּבֹא אַבְרָהָם לִסְפֹּד לְשָׂרָה וְלִבְכֹּתָהּ —
“And Avraham came to eulogize Sarah and to weep for her” (Bereishit 23:2).

The Netivot Shalom notes that in the Torah, the word וְלִבְכֹּתָהּ is written with a כף זעירא — a small kaf.

Why?
Because Avraham’s tears were measured — he wept, but not in despair.
He cried כדרך שבוכים על זקנים, as one weeps for a complete soul who has finished her work —
not as one weeps over tragedy.

His tears were of love and awe, not confusion or guilt.
He did not fall for the Satan achareinu — the adversary that comes after holiness, whispering doubt and remorse.
In his quiet mourning lay his final greatness: clarity in descent, kedusha within grief.

The Satan Before and After

Every day, we pray:
וְהָסֵר שָׂטָן מִלְּפָנֵינוּ וּמֵאַחֲרֵינוּ.
“Remove the Satan from before us and from behind us.”

The Netivot Shalom explains:
הַשָּׂטָן מִלְּפָנֵינוּ — Satan lifaneinu: the force that rises before holiness — fear, resistance, distraction — seeking to prevent the act of avodah.
הַשָּׂטָן מֵאַחֲרֵינוּ — Satan achareinu: the whisper that follows afterward — pride, confusion, or regret — that tries to rob a person of the light already achieved.

The Satan lifaneinu blocks ascent;
the Satan achareinu corrupts what has been gained,
urging one to question, to overanalyze, to lose yishuv hadaas.

Therefore, the Netivot Shalom teaches,
we require סייעתא דשמיא — divine assistance — not only before the test, but after it as well:
to stand strong against the yetzer hara that obstructs, and to protect the heart from the yetzer hara that follows, that seeks to steal the holiness already attained.

מַצִּיל עָנִי מֵחָזָק מִמֶּנּוּ וְעָנִי וְאֶבְיוֹן מִגֹּזְלוֹ

(Tehillim 35:10) —
Hashem saves the poor from one stronger than he (the Satan lifaneinu)
and the poor and needy from one who robs him (the Satan achareinu).

The Netivot Shalom explains that Dovid HaMelechs words are not only about external enemies, but about the inner struggle of the soul.

מַצִּיל עָנִי מֵחָזָק מִמֶּנּוּ — “Hashem saves the poor from one stronger than he.”
The ani, the poor one, is every human being in moments of smallness — when we are poor in daas, lacking clear awareness.
The yetzer hara that rises מִלְּפָנֵינוּ — before us — feels חָזָק מִמֶּנּוּ, stronger than we are.
It comes dressed in logic, urgency, or fear; it convinces us that holiness is impossible, that change is too heavy, that we are unworthy.

At such moments, the ani must cry out for סייעתא דשמיא — heavenly assistance — because alone, no person can overcome the Satan lifaneinu.
This is the cry of the heart that knows its dependence on Hashem:
“Save me from what seems stronger than I am.”

But there is a second danger, more hidden:

וְעָנִי וְאֶבְיוֹן מִגֹּזְלוֹ — “and the poor and needy from one who robs him.”
Even after the ani has succeeded — after he has overcome temptation, completed the mitzvah, stood in kedusha — the Satan achareinu returns as a thief.
He cannot face holiness directly, so he comes silently from behind, to steal.

He steals by planting subtle thoughts: pride, self-satisfaction, or the whisper that it wasn’t really pure — that maybe the act was for ego, or that it caused harm, or that it didn’t matter.

He robs us of the simcha shel mitzvah, the joy and inner peace that follow true service.

Thus, the verse describes two forms of divine salvation:
first, Hashem saves us from the stronger one — the overt resistance that stands before holiness;
then, He saves us from the robber — the subtle thief afterward who drains the light we already earned.

In this way, the Netivot Shalom reads Tehillim 35:10 as the full map of human avodah:
to withstand the storm of lifaneinu and to guard the harvest of achareinu —
knowing that both require emunah, humility, and constant connection to Hashem,
Who alone can protect the ani b’daas from being overpowered or emptied of his light.

The Threefold וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו

The Netivot Shalom notes that וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו appears three times in the story of the Akeidah, marking three levels of avodah — before, during, and after:
Before the Akeidah — Ahavah (Love):
וַיִּקַּח אַבְרָהָם אֶת־עֲצֵי הָעֹלָה… וַיֵּלְכוּ שְׁנֵיהֶם יַחְדָּו (Bereishit 22:6).
Avraham and Yitzchak walk together before the test — the triumph of ahavah, love and devotion, overcoming Satan lifaneinu.
During the Akeidah — Yirah (Awe):
וַיֹּאמֶר אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהִים יִרְאֶה־לּוֹ הַשֶּׂה לְעֹלָה בְּנִי וַיֵּלְכוּ שְׁנֵיהֶם יַחְדָּו (22:8).
This is the yirah of uniting opposites — Avraham binding love with awe, as the Arizal teaches: each joined the other’s midah, creating perfect yichud.
After the Akeidah — Anavah (Humility):
וַיָּשָׁב אַבְרָהָם אֶל־נְעָרָיו וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו (22:19).
This final וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו is the descent into anavah — walking with the brokenhearted, transforming Satan achareinu into compassion.

Har Moriah — The Descent with a Broken Heart

After the Akeidah, the Torah says:
וַיָּשָׁב אַבְרָהָם אֶל־נְעָרָיו וַיָּקֻמוּ וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו.
“And Avraham returned to his attendants, and they rose and went together.” (Bereishit 22:19)

The Netivot Shalom writes:

שנעריו היו מאד שבורים בקרבם מזה שבסמוך אליהם נעשתה עבודה עילאית כזו והם נשארו לשבת עם החמור,
והיה שברון לבם גדול מאד, וע”כ ויקמו וילכו יחדו,
שאברהם אבינו לקח עמו את שברון הלב של נעריו כדי שלא יבא לזחות הדעת.

Avraham’s attendants were broken in spirit.
They had witnessed the most sublime avodah from nearby,
yet they themselves were left עם החמור — “with the donkey” —
excluded from the inner sanctum of revelation.
Their hearts were filled with sh’virah — a painful sense of distance.

So the Torah says: וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו — “and they went together.”
Avraham took their sh’virah with him, carrying their pain in his own heart
so that he himself would not fall into z’chut hadaas — pride or spiritual detachment.

This, says the Netivot Shalom, is the ultimate tikkun of הַשָּׂטָן מֵאַחֲרֵינוּ:
after great aliyah and kedusha, to carry the brokenness of others,
to keep the heart soft, humble, and alive.

✨ His holiness was not only in ascent, but in descent — in walking back down Har Moriah with compassion.
This is the true test after the test: to bring kedusha into humility, and to walk together, וַיֵּלְכוּ יַחְדָּו.