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By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Lonner
Boxer Mike Tyson, “Iron” Mike, attempted a comeback. At 58, he went back into the ring to fight a decades-younger Jack Paul.
In a pre-fight conversation, Tyson was asked by a teenage interviewer, “What type of legacy would you like to leave behind when it’s all said and done?” His response shocked the interviewer, leaving her to say, “I never heard anything like that before.”
Tyson told her that he doesn’t believe in a legacy. “Legacy is ego. It means nothing to me. I’m going to die, and then I’m absolutely nothing. I’m dead… dust. My legacy is nothing… who will care.”
In this week’s parsha, Chayei Sora, we see otherwise. The parsha opens with the death of Sora. Yet, the parsha is called “Chayei Sora”, the “life” of Sora. Should it not have been named the “death” of Sora?
Sora Imeinu, our Matriarch Sora, left us a legacy. Even after her death, we recall her life, and the lessons she left behind. Sora’s name lives on. Every little girl named Sora is a link in the chain that spans generations, going all the way back to our mother Sora.
How different from Mike Tyson. While he was correct in saying that one goes back to dust upon death, he tragically missed a big point. A shem tov, a good name, lives on and is remembered. Good deeds immortalize one’s neshama. Legacy may be ego, as Tyson claims, but that is only when one’s accomplishments are viewed as being for self-aggrandizement, and not for the betterment of mankind.
Sora lived not for herself, but to do for others. She was a wife, mother, teacher, mentor, and most gracious hostess. By doing for others, she found her own fulfillment, leaving behind a legacy for all time. As Chazal teach, tzadikim bemisasan keruyim chayim, the righteous, even in their death, are called living.
“Vayavo Avraham lispod l’Sara v’livkosa, And Avraham came to eulogize Sora, and to weep for her.” (Bereishis 23:3) To weep, to cry, to mourn. In a world where it is often said “real men don’t cry”, Avraham shows us that the opposite is true. It’s okay to cry. What greater eulogy can one make than to show emotion and shed a real tear.
The gematria, numerical value, of the word “bechi” cry, is 32 (beis–2, chof–20, yud–10). The word lev, heart, also has a gematria of 32 (lamed–30, beis-2). To cry is to be real. To have a heart.
There is a poignant story about Rav Aryeh Levin, known as the Tzaddik of Yerushalayim (1885-1969). After forty-seven blessed years of marriage, he lost his beloved wife, Tzippora Chana. Sometime after, he took a taxi. The driver asked, ”Habayta?”, are you going home? Rav Aryeh, wiping away a tear, answered, ”Since my wife passed away, I have no home… She was my home.” As the Talmud teaches, bayso zu ishto, a man’s home is his wife.
Livkosa, to cry. Avraham shed a tear for Sora. The home he knew and loved was no longer the same. In Sora’s merit, there were three constant miracles in her tent. The candles remained lit week to week, reflecting upon her strong love for HaShem. An untiring devotion to His Torah. A love that was never extinguished. Second, her challas stayed fresh from week to week. Challah is symbolic of the material needs in one’s life. To Sora, everything was always “fresh”. Nothing in life was ever “stale”. She was sameach b’chelka, always content with what she had. The third miracle was a cloud that always hovered over her tent, indicative of HaShem’s ever-present Shechina. The bracha of shalom bayis, peace and tranquility in the home.
With Sora’s death, the home that Avraham knew and loved was no longer the same. The lights went out. The sweet aroma of fresh challa was gone. And the cloud overhead disappeared.
The three miracles, Sora’s legacy, resurfaced once again upon Yitzchok marrying Rivka. The Midrash teaches that Rivka followed in Sora’s footsteps, meriting the reappearance of the same miracles present during Sora’s lifetime.
Avraham and Sora were a team. The Chumash tells us “Es hanefesh asher osu b’Choron, The souls that they created in Choron”. Asher osu, together, they gave of themselves. Avraham taught the men, Sora taught the women. As a team, they put their very being into reaching out to others. Together they taught, together they opened their home, together they created souls. Upon Sora’s death, Avraham wept. He lost his true life partner.
Lispod l’Sora, to eulogize Sora. The Midrash tells us that Avraham was divinely inspired to say the beautiful verses of Eishes Chayil, Woman of valor, as a eulogy for his wife, Sora. The same Eishes Chayil that Shlomo HaMelech composed as a tribute to his mother, Bat-Sheva, and included in Mishlei, Proverbs. The same Eishes Chayil that is sung in Jewish homes every Friday night. Eishes Chayil, a song of appreciation and admiration for the woman who keeps her family together. It is thousands of years later, and the legacy continues.
I remember my father zt”l singing Eishes Chayil for my mother a”h. We would all join in. My father would sit at the head of the table, my mother at the opposite end. His eyes would twinkle, and there would be a smile upon his face. When my father reached the verse “v’at alise al kulana, And you rise above them all”, his voice reached a high pitch, and he would stretch out the word “a-l-i-s-e” as a accolade to my mother. He would always point out that “v’at”, whose letters are aleph and tuf, refers to the eishes chayil who imbues her children with Torah teachings from aleph through tuf, from beginning to end. (As an aside, my father would anecdotally add that in the first verse of Eishes Chayil, the word “mee”, spelled mem-yud, are the initials of his name, Meshulem Jungreis–Meshulem, beginning with a mem, and Jungreis, beginning with a yud. He would say how fortunate he was to have “found” my mother as his eishes chayil.)
It is said that Rav Avraham Pam (1913-2001), one of the leading Torah personalities of the twentieth century, was never known to be a singer, but would say the zemiros on Friday night. However, there was one song that he always sang at the Shabbos table. Eishes Chayil, in honor of his wife.
So, Mike Tyson, legacy does count. It is meaningful. It’s the values we leave over to our children and future generations.
Shabbat Shalom!
Chaya Sora
Chaya Sora can be reached at [email protected]
This article was written L’zecher Nishmas/In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi, zt”l
