The Measure of a Life
Parshat Chayei Sarah (Genesis 23:1-25:18)
Have you ever looked back on a stretch of time and wondered, “Did I truly live those days, or did they just slip past?”
“Abraham was old, he came in days.” (Genesis 24:1)
At first glance, this phrase sounds like a simple way of saying Abraham had grown old. But the Torah could have said zaken—“aged”—and left it at that. Instead it says ba bayamim—“he came in days.” The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 59:1) explains that Abraham’s days were “full.” Unlike someone who drifts through time, his days were accounted for, each one bearing its own weight and meaning. Chassidic thought adds that to “come in days” means to illuminate each day with spiritual light, to fill time with presence and purpose so that no day passes empty.
It’s striking that this phrase comes at a late stage in Abraham’s life. At ninety-nine, he circumcised himself, sealing the covenant that would bind the Jewish people to G-d for all generations. At one hundred, he became the father of Isaac. Later came the binding of Isaac, the supreme test of faith. After Sarah’s death, he purchased the Cave of Machpelah—the first piece of the Promised Land. He ensured Isaac’s future by arranging his marriage to Rebekah. Even then, he remarried and fathered more children. Abraham’s greatest acts came when others might have stepped back.
But if we’re honest, living with that kind of daily purpose is hard. Life easily slips into routine. I remember a season when I looked back at a week and realized I could barely recall a single meaningful thing I had done. The days had blurred together, eaten up by small tasks and distractions. That realization jolted me—it was a reminder that time is not endless, and that drifting is easy, but living with intention takes courage.
So what does it actually look like to “come in days” today? It may not mean grand gestures. It might mean calling a relative you’ve put off for too long, pausing to really listen when your child wants to talk, or offering help to a neighbor instead of rushing past. It could be sitting down to reflect for ten minutes before the day runs away. Each act, however small, transforms another passing day into one that is truly lived.
Even those who seem larger than life admit the struggle. Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison, much of it in harsh conditions. He later acknowledged moments of despair. Yet when he emerged, he chose not to drift but to invest his remaining years with intention, using each day to lead toward reconciliation. His story reminds us that vitality in later life is not automatic—it is the fruit of deliberate choices.
Why is it so difficult? Because distraction, fatigue, and grief are real. Because routine lulls us into thinking tomorrow will always be there. The Torah answers with Abraham: zaken ba bayamim—he entered into his days, refusing to let them slip by unmarked.
So what about us? What would it look like to treat tomorrow not as a day to be endured, but as a day to be entered? The measure of a life is not counted only in years but in the fullness we bring into each day.
Wishing you a good week and Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Yonatan Hambourger