In the presence of G-d, Sarah Emanu sat scoffing but secretly fearing:
“Do I deserve the good?
And the grace-flilled?
And the life-giving?”
And although she bore life, she is remembered to have laughed coldly in its face.
But what if her jeer was her coping?
And her knowing?
And her humanity?
We, who greet the miracles amidst the bitterness and the real.
We are like Sarah.
Mother to curiosity.
Mother to doubt.
Mother to the scholar and the Dairy Man.
But moreover, Mother to the generations of women who question the world and, too, the Word.
