The Life We Live and the Legacy We Leave

Parshas Chayei Sarah

There is an old joke about a lifelong capitalist who, lying on his deathbed, suddenly announced that he wanted to become a communist. His family was shocked. "You've spent your entire life defending capitalism. Why would you change your beliefs now?" He replied, "Well, if someone has to die, I'd rather it be one of them!"

Humour aside, there is an interesting truth here. While we are alive, our story is still being written. We can change our beliefs, our priorities, our direction and even our life's mission. No matter how long we have lived, the final chapter has yet to be written. It is only when a life comes to an end that we can look back and appreciate the complete picture.

This week's Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, literally means "The Life of Sarah". Interestingly, it begins not with her life, but with her passing at the age of 127. And what a life it was.

Sarah's journey was anything but easy. Together with Avraham, she faced enormous challenges. For decades, she longed for children but remained childless. She encouraged Avraham to marry Hagar in the hope of building a family. She was taken into the households of Pharaoh and later Avimelech. She experienced uncertainty, displacement and hardship. Yet through it all, Sarah stood strong.

She was not simply Avraham's wife, standing quietly in the background. She was his partner in a revolutionary mission, bringing the knowledge of one G-d into a world steeped in idolatry. While Avraham reached out to the men, Sarah influenced the women, opening hearts and homes to a new understanding of faith and purpose

When the Torah records Sarah's passing, Rashi famously explains that at 100 she was as free of sin as at 20, and at 20 she possessed the beauty of a seven-year-old. He concludes that all her years were equally good. How could that be, considering everything she endured? Perhaps the answer is that a good life is not necessarily an easy life. Sarah's years were not all equally comfortable, but they were united by a consistent sense of purpose. Through every challenge, she remained committed to something greater than herself. And that is what made her life extraordinary.

When we reflect on someone who has passed away, we rarely speak about how many hours they spent in the office, how much money they accumulated or how many holidays they enjoyed. We remember the kindness they showed. The encouragement they offered when someone was struggling. The sacrifices they made for their family. The moments when they put someone else's needs before their own. These are the things that remain.

Sarah's greatest legacy was not simply what she accomplished during her lifetime, but what she set in motion. The values she instilled in Yitzchak, the faith she helped establish and the kindness she brought into the world continued long after her passing. And this is true for each of us.

A word of encouragement can give someone the confidence to change their life. That person may go on to inspire countless others. Children raised with strong moral values carry those lessons into their own families and communities. Our actions can become a living fountain of goodness, flowing from one generation to the next, long after we have moved on to the World of Truth.

This is the inheritance we received from Sarah, our mother and matriarch. The strength to stand firm in our beliefs, even when others disagree. The courage to continue our mission despite obstacles. And the understanding that a meaningful life is measured not merely by what we achieve for ourselves, but by what we contribute to others.

We cannot know exactly how our story will end. But we can decide what we stand for today, what values we live by and what seeds of goodness we plant for tomorrow. Because ultimately, the true measure of a life is not simply how many years we lived, but how much of our goodness continues to live after us.

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About the author: Elimelech Levy is a Rabbi, educator, and coach based in Sydney, Australia. He is the director of Chabad Youth NSW, where he develops programs that support Jewish identity, confidence, and community connection for young people and families.

Alongside his communal work, Elimelech holds an MBA from Macquarie University and is a member of the International Coaching Federation. His coaching focuses on helping individuals gain clarity, set meaningful goals, and take consistent action.

He is also the founder of the Knei Lecha Chover initiative, a global peer coaching network for rabbis, and is involved in property development projects that reflect his broader interest in building sustainable communities.

More at elilevy.com.au

Don't Wait to Be Asked

Parshas Vayeira | A Lesson in Seeing Beyond Ourselves

As published on https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/

There is something interesting about the way Avraham welcomed his guests in this week's Torah portion, Vayeira. He didn't wait for them to knock on his door or approach him asking for food or shelter. He saw three travellers in the distance and ran towards them, inviting them into his home. He wasn't responding to a request for help. He was actively looking for an opportunity to help.

What makes this even more extraordinary is the circumstances. Avraham was 99 years old and recovering from his circumcision just three days earlier, traditionally considered the most painful stage of recovery. The day was unbearably hot, and we are taught that Avraham was distressed because there were no travellers around for him to welcome. Even while suffering physically, his concern was not simply for his own comfort. He wanted to be of service to someone else.

What if we approached life with that same attitude?

So often, we are willing to help when someone asks. A friend calls needing a favour, a colleague requests assistance, or a family member tells us they're struggling. We might happily respond. But there is a significant difference between being willing to help and actively looking for someone who needs our help.

Think about the people around us. A child who is unusually quiet, a friend who seems overwhelmed, a colleague struggling with their workload, or even a stranger who looks lost. How often do we notice these things but continue with our day, assuming that if they really need something, they'll ask?

Perhaps the real challenge is not whether we are prepared to help, but whether we are prepared to inconvenience ourselves enough to notice.

Avraham didn't simply open his home. He left the comfort of his tent, ran into the heat and personally attended to his guests. His hospitality required effort, initiative and a willingness to put someone else's needs before his own.

And then something remarkable happened. These travellers, who were actually angels, brought Avraham and Sarah the extraordinary news that they would finally have a son. Avraham went out looking for an opportunity to give, and through that encounter, he received an incredible blessing.

Of course, we shouldn't help others because we expect something in return. But there is a powerful lesson here. Sometimes the greatest blessings in life come through the relationships we build, the people we help and the opportunities we create when we look beyond ourselves.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that when two people meet, their encounter should bring benefit to a third person. In other words, our relationships should not exist solely for our own enjoyment or advantage. They should create something positive beyond ourselves.

We spend so much of our lives working towards security, comfort and personal success. These are important goals. But surely life must be about more than making sure our own needs are met.

Perhaps we should measure our success not only by what we have achieved for ourselves, but also by how much better someone else's life has become because we were part of it.

This week, don't wait for someone to ask for help. Look around, notice who might need something, and take the initiative.

Because sometimes, the greatest thing we can offer another person is the simple reassurance that someone noticed, someone cared, and someone was willing to act.

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About the author: Elimelech Levy is a Rabbi, educator, and coach based in Sydney, Australia. He is the director of Chabad Youth NSW, where he develops programs that support Jewish identity, confidence, and community connection for young people and families.

Alongside his communal work, Elimelech holds an MBA from Macquarie University and is a member of the International Coaching Federation. His coaching focuses on helping individuals gain clarity, set meaningful goals, and take consistent action.

He is also the founder of the Knei Lecha Chover initiative, a global peer coaching network for rabbis, and is involved in property development projects that reflect his broader interest in building sustainable communities.

More at elilevy.com.au

You Can't Grow If You're Not Willing to Leave Something Behind

Parshas Lech Lecha | Personal Development

There is something fascinating about the way a lobster grows. Unlike humans, a lobster has a hard outer shell that cannot expand with its body. Eventually, the shell that once provided protection becomes too restrictive. In order to grow, the lobster must shed its old shell and develop a new, larger one. During this process, it becomes particularly vulnerable. Yet without going through this uncomfortable experience, it simply cannot continue growing. Perhaps the same is true for us. Sometimes the very things that make us feel safe and comfortable are the things preventing us from growing.

We all have our comfort zones. Our routines, relationships and familiar environments provide security. We know what to expect and how to navigate our daily lives. Yet how often do we find ourselves wanting something more? Perhaps a new opportunity, better health, greater success or simply becoming a better version of ourselves. We want change, but somehow never quite get around to making it happen. The problem is often uncertainty. What if things don't work out? Why should I risk what I already have for something I might never achieve? Perhaps life is perfectly fine the way it is. Do I really need to do more? These are reasonable questions. Not every change is worthwhile. But there is an important difference between choosing to remain where we are because it's the right place for us, and remaining there simply because we're afraid to leave.

In this week's Parsha, Lech Lecha, Hashem tells Avraham to leave his land, birthplace and father's home, and travel to a land that He will show him. Consider what Avraham was being asked to do. He had an established life, familiar surroundings, relationships and an entire infrastructure around him. In modern terms, he had his usual doctor, barber, friends and community. Everything that made life comfortable and predictable. Yet his future was somewhere else.

Avraham wasn't even told exactly where he was going. He simply had to trust, take the first step and begin the journey. And despite the many challenges that followed, his decision ultimately shaped the course of history. Thousands of years later, billions of people still look to Abraham as a foundational figure of their faith. What can we learn from this?

Perhaps you've been thinking about joining a gym, improving your health, learning a new skill, starting a business or pursuing an opportunity. But you keep waiting for the right time. Another week passes, another month, sometimes another year. The Talmud teaches, "B'derech she'adam rotzeh leilech, molichin oso", along the path a person wishes to travel, they assist him. We cannot expect things to happen simply because we wish for them. We need to choose a direction and make a genuine effort to move towards it. That doesn't guarantee success, but opportunities often emerge only once we begin taking action.

And taking the plunge doesn't necessarily mean making a dramatic or reckless change. Sometimes it simply means making that phone call, signing up for that course or committing to that first exercise session. Like Avraham, we don't need to see the entire journey before beginning.

So ask yourself: What is something you've wanted to do for a long time but have been putting off? And what's one practical step you could take this week to begin?

Because sometimes, to discover what we're capable of becoming, we first need the courage to move beyond what we already know.

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About the author: Elimelech Levy is a Rabbi, educator, and coach based in Sydney, Australia. He is the director of Chabad Youth NSW, where he develops programs that support Jewish identity, confidence, and community connection for young people and families.

Alongside his communal work, Elimelech holds an MBA from Macquarie University and is a member of the International Coaching Federation. His coaching focuses on helping individuals gain clarity, set meaningful goals, and take consistent action.

He is also the founder of the Knei Lecha Chover initiative, a global peer coaching network for rabbis, and is involved in property development projects that reflect his broader interest in building sustainable communities.

More at elilevy.com.au