By: Roberta Witkow
Director of Women’s Philanthropy
This week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, introduces us to Rebecca, a woman whose kindness and openness shine from the very first moment we meet her. When Abraham’s servant arrives at the well, dusty and tired from his long journey, Rebecca doesn’t hesitate. She rushes to offer him water, then, noticing his camels, draws water for them, too. It’s such a simple act, yet it reveals so much about her character. Her generosity is instinctive, her hospitality effortless. Later, when she enters Sarah’s tent, we’re told that the light that had gone out when Sarah died suddenly returns. Rebecca’s presence rekindles warmth, blessing, and a sense of welcome — transforming the tent once again into a place of connection and care.
Rebecca’s tent can teach us something profound about community: we’re called to create spaces where people arrive weary, or uncertain whether they belong, and find themselves received with warmth and compassion. That means hospitality, yes, but also something deeper: intentional care, belonging, and mutual responsibility.
Contemporary scholar and President of the Shalom Hartman Institute, Yehuda Kurtzer, speaks of the moral work of “making wide circles of inclusion so as to offer safety and the comfort of belonging.” In our tradition, Rebecca’s act is not only generous, it’s an act of building community. Her open tent becomes a symbol of inclusion: she makes room for others, restores vitality to the space she inhabits, and invites blessing to return.
And this sense of belonging depends on care. As Rabbi Sharon Brous teaches, a true community “invests in people as complicated, multi-faceted, wounded, beautiful individuals, each one essential to the greater whole.” What Rebecca offers at the well is precisely that kind of care. She doesn’t just provide water, she notices; she doesn’t just fulfill a duty, she connects.
As we reflect on Chayei Sarah, let’s ask ourselves, “How might our tent be open like Rebecca’s? How can we design our communal spaces —or even our conversations —so that someone who enters feels this is home, this is safe, this is belonging?” Belonging requires more than being present; it requires being seen, being valued, and knowing that someone cares enough to make space.
May this Shabbat inspire us to keep our tent open, our hands generous, and our hearts attentive so that everyone who enters feels not just welcomed, but truly cared for.
Shabbat Shalom.
Please email Roberta Witkow at rwitkow@jewishcolorado.org with questions or comments.