וַתָּמָת שָׂרָה בְּקִרְיַת אַרְבַּע הִוא חֶבְרוֹן בְּאֶרֶץ כְּנָעַן וַיָּבֹא אַבְרָהָם לִסְפֹּד לְשָׂרָה וְלִבְכֹּתָהּ

“Sarah died in Kiryas Arba—which is Chevron, in the land of Canaan—and Avraham came to eulogize Sarah and to weep for her.”

Zera Shimshon asks: The placement of “Sarah” in the phrase “to eulogize Sarah and to weep for her” appears misplaced. A more fitting construction would be “to eulogize and to weep for Sarah,” as the name “Sarah” need not be repeated between the actions of eulogizing and weeping, given that both are in reference to her. For instance, it is more acceptable to say, “I davened and learnt in shul,” than to say, “I davened in shul and learnt there.”

He also asks why the pasuk states that Avraham eulogized Sarah before weeping for her, which goes against the order that is mentioned in the Gemara, “three days of tears and seven days of eulogy,” and the typical sequence of first crying upon hearing of a loved one’s passing and then, delivering a eulogy at the burial.

Zera Shimshon explains that the tears that fall with the passing of a loved one are nuanced with different layers of emotion and significance. The very first kind are those that spring spontaneously—an immediate outpouring of grief in the moment one is confronted with the heart-wrenching news of a loss. These initial tears are not so much about the individual qualities of the one who has passed, but rather a raw, human expression of pain and the shock of loss.

As the eulogy unfolds, a second wave of tears may arise—distinct from the initial shock. These are stirred by the recounting of the deceased’s virtues and good deeds—a deliberate and pensive response to their life’s impact. Yet, these tears are not exclusively for the departed; they are also a reflection of the eulogizer’s skill to evoke a profound sense of loss and admiration felt by the mourners. This mix of genuine sorrow and responsive reflection underscores the intertwined roles of both the eulogizer’s craft and the inherent worth of the person commemorated.

In some instances—particularly, when the deceased was an extraordinary individual—a third kind of tears may be observed. These are the tears that come after the eulogy, born out of reflection on all the good the departed has done and the keenly felt absence of their presence in the world. These tears are a profound homage to the deceased, as they echo the magnitude of their impact and the depth of the void they leave behind.

With this framework in mind, Zera Shimshon explains that the tears the Torah is speaking of are not the tears that Avraham shed for Sarah of immediate grief, which would be natural for any husband to experience so there is no need to mention them. The Torah also is not speaking of the tears that were shed at the time of eulogy. Rather, the tears the Torah mentions here are the tears that Avraham shed after the eulogy—to highlight that Sarah was not just any woman—she was extraordinary. Avraham’s persistent grief underscores the profound gap left by Sarah’s virtuous deeds and yiras shamayim, affirming that his loss extends beyond her physical presence to the invaluable contributions she made during her life. The Torah is making a point to stress Sarah’s unique greatness and yiras shamayim, and it is as if the Torah is saying, “Look, even after the formal period of mourning, Avraham is still weeping because Sarah was truly incomparable.”

The Torah, therefore, wrote that Avraham eulogized Sarah and then he cried for her, and also put Sarah between the phrases, “to eulogize,” and “to weep for her” to separate the time of the eulogy from the time of the tears—to stress that the tears of Avraham were not just the reaction to his wife’s passing away and were not the result of an emotion packed eulogy. Rather, because this was the sequence of events and to allude to the fact that the tears were not a result of his personal loss, but they came because Avraham remembered how great a person Sarah was.

Zera Shimshon provides an alternate explanation for the immediate mention of Sarah’s name following, “and Avraham came to eulogize,” rather than at the end of the pasuk. Zera Shimshon first asks why, after the pasuk begins with, “Sarah died in Kiryas Arba, which is Chevron,” it refers to her by name again in “to eulogize Sarah,” instead of simply using the pronoun, “to eulogize her.”

Zera Shimshon explains that a woman may be praised for two main reasons: firstly, for her own virtuous and commendable deeds; and secondly, if her husband is praiseworthy, she can receive praise through her association with him. This second reason is supported by a teaching in the Gemara, which states that a woman “rises with” her husband in terms of social status after marriage. This means that if her husband holds a higher social position, he must treat her as his equal, and she is to be seen not only by him but by society as sharing in his status and honor.

The Torah, therefore, deliberately specifies Sarah’s name—instead of referring to her with the pronoun “her,”—to underscore the fact that Avraham’s act of eulogizing was directed at Sarah herself, highlighting her individual merits and virtue and not merely her identity as his spouse. This explicit mention reinforces the recognition of Sarah as a woman of exceptional stature, whose praiseworthy qualities were such that they stood on their own—deserving of direct and specific tribute. By naming her, the Torah elevates Sarah’s memory—ensuring that the legacy she left behind would be remembered not just as Avraham’s wife, but as a paragon of virtue in her own right.

This is also the reason Sarah’s name was mentioned directly after the Torah wrote that Avraham eulogized her, and not at the end of the pasuk—after it mentions that Avraham also cried for her. In order to stress that Sarah deserved the praises that Avraham spoke about her in her own right, and not only because of her connection to Avraham.

HaRav Shimshon Nachmani—author of Zera Shimshon lived in Italy—about 300 years ago, in the time of the Or HaChaim HaKodesh. He had one child who died in his lifetime and in the preface, he promises that those who learn his sefarim, “will see children and grandchildren like the offshoots of an olive tree around your tables.”