Altz Iz Bashert

“Vayihyu chayei Sarah me’ah shanah v’esrim shanah v’sheva shanim, shnei chayei Sarah.”

Parshas Chayei Sarah begins by recording the 127 years of Sarah Imeinu’s life.

On this pasuk, the Midrash quotes “Yodeia Hashem yemei temimim” and explains: “Kesheim shehein temimim, kach shenosam temimim” — just as the tzaddikim are complete, so are their years.

Rav Meilich Biderman, shlit”a, related a powerful vort in the name of the Mahari Assad that brings these words to life.

Rashi asks why the passing of Sarah Imeinu is recorded immediately after the Akeidah. He explains that when Sarah heard how her son had nearly been brought as a korban, her neshamah departed.

But the Mahari Assad raises a fascinating question.

Before the Akeidah, the Torah says, “Vayehi achar hadevarim ha’eileh.” Chazal explain: “Achar devarav shel Satan” — after the Satan’s accusation concerning the seudah Avraham Avinu made when Yitzchok was weaned. Avraham had prepared an entire feast, the Satan argued, yet had not offered even one animal as a korban to Hashem.

Hashem answered the Satan that Avraham would willingly offer even his own son if He asked him to.

However, Yitzchok was only two years old at that seudah — and thirty-seven at the Akeidah. Why did Hashem wait thirty-five years?

The Mahari Assad explains that Sarah was destined to leave this world upon hearing about the Akeidah. But her allotted years were not yet complete. Hashem therefore postponed the Akeidah for thirty-five years, until the appointed time for her petirah.

This is the meaning of the Midrash: “Kesheim shehein temimim, kach shenosam temimim.” Sarah’s years were complete. Hearing about the Akeidah did not take her from this world a moment before her time.

Along these lines, the Or HaChaim HaKadosh explains that the wording “Vayihyu chayei Sarah” teaches us that these were her full allotted years. We should not think that had she not heard about the Akeidah, she could have lived longer. Her life had reached its appointed completion.

We naturally understand the story to mean that because Sarah heard about the Akeidah, she died. However, the Mahari Assad teaches us to reverse our perspective: Because the time had come for Sarah to leave this world, she heard about the Akeidah.

Rav Shalom Schwadron, zt”l, would relate a remarkable story illustrating this perspective.

Reb Yerachmiel Wexler of Chicago was inspired by a visiting rav, Rav Volk, to visit Eretz Yisrael with his family. While there, his son Yaakov became drawn to the Chevron Yeshiva and remained to learn.

Tragically, Yaakov was murdered in the Chevron massacre of 1929.

Rav Volk felt responsible for Yaakov’s death and avoided returning to Chicago, unable to face the Wexlers. Eventually, he encountered Reb Yerachmiel in New York. When asked why he no longer visited Chicago, Rav Volk explained the guilt he carried.

Reb Yerachmiel responded with steadfast emunah and profound hakaras hatov. His son’s allotted life, he explained, would have ended at seventeen wherever he had been. Through Rav Volk’s influence, however, Yaakov had spent his final period immersed in Torah and had died al kiddush Hashem. For that, he remained deeply grateful.

How often do we struggle with those same words: “If only”?

If only I hadn’t gone there. If only I hadn’t said that. If only I had made that call, taken a different route, or chosen differently.

Sometimes we direct these thoughts at ourselves. Sometimes we direct them at someone else. We replay a conversation, a journey or a decision, imagining a different ending. With the benefit of hindsight, the choice seems so obvious that we cannot understand how we failed to see it at the time.