19 Nov LEGACY IS REAL

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.