To Carry on the Legacy
D’var Torah on Parashat Chayei Sarah
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
November 22, 2024
(In recognition of the 62nd anniversary of my bar mitzvah and the 61st anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy)
61 years ago, on November 22 1963, the 35 President of the United States, John F. Kennedy, was assassinated. For some of us, it’s more than history: We remember precisely where we were when we heard it. Whether it was his youthful good looks and charm, his humor, or his idealism—JFK proved an inspiration to most of us. I remember how—on a Sabbath morning in 1962, as my family and I were walking to temple to celebrate a family friend’s bar mitzvah—the President’s motorcade passed us on one of the thoroughfares that ran through our neighborhood in Los Angeles. We saw him clearly, and he saw us and waved, a gesture that remains embedded in my memory.
President Kennedy served barely over 1000 days. Yet his legacy is profound and lasting. Granted, history hasn’t always been kind to him. The Bay of Pigs invasion, an attempt to remove Fidel Castro and the Communist Party from power in Cuba, was badly botched, and to this day remains a black stain on US foreign policy. His extra-marital affairs are still fodder for tabloids and media pundits.
Yet there was something there that, at least at the time, moved and enthralled us. The young family that played on the White House Lawn; the beautiful wife who led tours of the White House and invited leading musicians to play concerts there; and of course his famous call as part of his Inaugural Address, “Ask not what your country can do for you–ask what you can do for your country.” These weren’t empty words. Two months into his Presidency, President Kennedy established the Peace Corps. Since its inception, more than 240,000 Americans have joined the Peace Corps and served in 142 countries.
John F. Kennedy was groomed for power from his earliest days. He came from a rich and powerful family. He could have merely used his office to enrich himself further. Yet he didn’t. He took his position seriously and believed he could make a difference in the world. Kennedy’s biography, published by the White House Historical Association, reads in part, “His administration… saw the beginning of new hope for both the equal rights of Americans and the peace of the world.”
Today these words may elicit ironic chuckles from some of us, more jaded than others. Yet one cannot doubt their truth. Kennedy made us believe that we could make the world better, starting with our own country.
We know that goals aren’t reached overnight, especially when there are hurdles in the way. And sometimes we experience setbacks that may be gloomy and discouraging. We certainly seem to be going through one of these periods today.
Yet, to remember is to hold a candle to something that once was, and which can be again.
It is said that President Kennedy’s favorite musical was Camelot, based on the wonderful retelling of the King Arthur legends by T. H. White, The Once and Future King. People—simple people as well as presidents and kings—live and die. But ideals never die. King Arthur, according to legend, is destined to come back, along with his vision of a world—round like his Round Table—with no borders, no frontiers and no wars. It sounds impossible, but it is a vision worth living—and sometimes fighting—for. We must never give up the hope or stop working towards the ideals expressed by the world’s greatest teachers and leaders.
This week’s Torah portion is Chayei Sarah (“The Life of Sarah,” Genesis 23:1-25:18). The storyline of the portion, however, has very little to do with her life; it begins with her death. Realizing that this follows immediately in the footsteps of the Akeda—the story of the near sacrifice of Isaac by his father, Abraham—the Rabbis of the first century felt the need to fill in the gap in the story. The midrash tells that at the time that Abraham was lifting his knife to slay Isaac, Satan appeared to Sarah (who had stayed back home) and told her of her beloved’s son’s fate. He of course left out the part where Abraham’s hand is stayed by the hand of God. Sarah, perhaps in horror, perhaps in grief, perhaps in rage, utters a cry and dies, never knowing what happens next. It’s a tragic ending—she will never see Isaac again, and Isaac has lost both his mother and his previously innocent faith. But Chayei Sarah isn’t about her. It’s about Sarah’s legacy. It’s about her fierce love for her son and family, and about her selfless pursuit of justice and righteousness—from God as well as people. The moral of the rabbinic midrash is that we must not give in to the same kind of fury and hopelessness that Sarah did. We must not let despair overcome our hopes. If we, the Jewish People, did that, we wouldn’t exist at this point. But instead, we light more candles, we read more books, we increase knowledge, and we never let hope die.
At the end of this Torah portion, Isaac marries Rebecca, who picks up where Sarah left off. Rebecca works hard and tirelessly to ensure that Sarah’s legacy will continue into the future. Her determination to see things turn out right, as they are meant to, is the answer to Sarah’s grief. We can do no less.
May this be the lesson we carry forward with us at this time, remembering those who inspired us in the past and those who carry the message forward today. May we be counted among them.
© 2024 by Boaz D. Heilman
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