Living Legacy

L E G A C Y! The word carries weight, power, and a hint of immortality. By definition, it’s what we leave behind—a gift, an inheritance, or the echoes of our actions. But is it truly a gift, or is it a burden? Legacy can inspire greatness or lead to obsession, shape lives or ruin them. It’s a word that embodies both light and shadow, depending on how it’s approached.

The legacy of our Jewish forefathers is both a gift and a responsibility, a treasure passed down through generations that shapes our identity, values, and purpose. From Avraham Avinu, who introduced the world to monotheism and faith, to Moshe Rabbeinu, who led our people to freedom and received the Torah at Sinai, our forefathers laid the foundation for a way of life rooted in justice, morality, and an eternal covenant with God. This legacy includes the mitzvot, the stories of resilience and perseverance, and the sense of unity and purpose that has kept the Jewish people alive through centuries of exile, persecution, and triumph. It inspires us to continue their mission: to live as a light unto the nations, upholding Torah values and striving for justice and peace in the world.

Yet this legacy is not without its burdens. To carry the mantle of our forefathers means to live with the weight of history—the knowledge that we are tasked with preserving traditions and values that have been challenged countless times. It can feel overwhelming to live up to the ideals of such towering figures or to balance ancient obligations with modern realities. However, the burden can also be empowering. By embracing our legacy, we have the opportunity to transform the world around us. Through acts of kindness, teaching Torah, and fostering community, we can honor our forefathers’ vision while adapting it to the needs of today. The question is not whether we carry this legacy, but how: with joy, commitment, and the determination to ensure it remains vibrant and relevant for future generations.

On its best days, legacy is a torch passed from one generation to the next, illuminating paths we might not have walked otherwise. Take Bruce Lee, for example. His legacy is far more than his martial arts mastery. He symbolized self-expression, discipline, and the merging of physicality and philosophy. Decades later, his teachings continue to empower people worldwide to break through their limits—both physical and mental.

Or consider Neil deGrasse Tyson, who stands on the shoulders of giants like Newton, Einstein, and Carl Sagan. Inspired by the legacies of his mentors, Tyson has used his platform to demystify the universe, igniting passions for science in countless minds; including my very own. His legacy isn’t just knowledge; it’s accessibility, a reawakening of curiosity in a world that risks becoming jaded.

Closer to home, think about a teacher who transforms the classroom into a place of inspiration. A legacy like this isn’t about monuments or fame—it’s about students who leave school not just with facts but with the belief that learning can be joyful, that curiosity is worth pursuing, and that education isn’t a punishment but a privilege.

Even personal passion can leave a meaningful legacy. Imagine dressing up as a clown to bring smiles to children fighting cancer. It’s simple, it’s personal, and it’s profound. The joy you feel is a gift to yourself, but the joy you give is your legacy—a ripple effect of positivity that might outlast you.

The Shadows of Legacy isn’t always a shining beacon. At its worst, it can be a weight, a source of obsession, or even a tool of destruction. Adolf Hitler, for example, left behind a legacy of hatred, genocide, and suffering—a stark reminder of the devastation that unchecked power and ideology can bring.

Even in the realm of fame and artistry, legacy can be complicated. Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, left behind an unparalleled musical legacy, but it’s forever entangled with allegations and controversies. The brilliance of his work can’t be separated from the shadows of his life, leaving his legacy a mix of inspiration and unease.

And what about the families of legends? For them, legacy can become a burden. Bruce Lee’s family still carries the weight of his myth. Fans, obsessed with his memory, demand perfection, stories, and access, leaving little room for them to simply live their own lives. When legacy becomes an obsession for others, it can smother those it’s meant to honor.

Even the legends themselves sometimes question the value of legacy. Legacy is a form of ego or a treatment in time. Mike Tyson, a legend of combat sports, emerged as a superstar during an era that craved figures like Muhammad Ali, Joe Frazier, or any of the Robinsons. Tyson rose to fame with his ruthless aggression—a style that mirrored a society teetering on the edge of revolution. His legacy endures, resonating deeply with individuals like myself. As an adolescent, boxing was the only sport that bonded my father and me—himself a former boxer and trainer. Tyson’s impact wasn’t just about his victories; it symbolized a shared connection, a bridge across generations. Just the other day at age 58, just prior to his Netflix money grab performance, when asked about his very own legacy, he said “We’re nothing, we’re dead, we’re dust, we’re absolutely nothing. Our legacy is nothing. Can you really imagine someone saying … ‘I want people to think about me when I’m gone?’ Who the f–k cares about me when I’m gone?”

It’s a sobering perspective. If legacy is just a memory carried by others, does it really matter in the end?

The pursuit of legacy is a fascinating and often polarizing endeavor. Some people actively chase legendary status, while others become legends through the sheer force of their impact and relentless hard work. The question is: is chasing a legacy inherently egotistical, or is it simply a byproduct of ambition and vision?

Take Conor McGregor, for example. The former UFC champion has made it clear that he is chasing a legacy—not just in mixed martial arts but as a cultural phenomenon. His brash personality, unparalleled self-promotion, and undeniable skills have earned him legendary status, but it’s hard to separate his achievements from his pursuit of fame. For McGregor, legacy and ego seem deeply intertwined, as he thrives on being in the spotlight and carving a place for himself in sports history.

Then there’s Taylor Swift, who  may or may not be chasing legacy but is becoming legendary by simply being a force of nature, whether I like it or not. Her music, storytelling, and connection with fans have created an undeniable cultural phenomenon. During her concerts, entire cities, like Toronto this weekend are swept up in a frenzy of excitement—traffic jams, friendship bracelets, and an atmosphere that feels bigger than life. Swift’s legacy may or may not be about ego; but there is an element of joy, unity, and emotions she inspires, making her a living legend through her craft and connection; even though I can not personally relate.

In politics, the pursuit of legacy often reveals itself as a double-edged sword. Donald Trump, the current two-time president-elect, has openly displayed his desire to cement his place in history. During his first term, his penchant for confrontation—picking fights with seemingly every “Harry, Tom, and Mustafa”—seemed to undermine his ability to leave behind a positive legacy. However, as time has passed, his legacy is becoming more nuanced, shaped as much by circumstance as by his choices. Trump’s case highlights an important truth: legacy is rarely a fixed concept. It evolves based on the world’s state and how history chooses to interpret events. Eight years ago, few could predict the shifting perceptions of his presidency or the way his legacy would hinge on the political and cultural dynamics of the time.

Meanwhile, the American left has also grappled with its own legacy. Critics argue that in attempting to create progress, it has sometimes veered into self-sabotage, with policies or rhetoric that unintentionally foster regression. This interplay of ambition, perception, and unintended consequences underscores how legacies are often beyond the control of those who seek to shape them.

Is it egotistical to pursue a legacy? It depends. For some, like McGregor or Trump, legacy is intertwined with ambition and a desire to be remembered. For others, like Swift, it feels like a natural byproduct of their work and impact.

Historic legacies and the modern desire to leave a legacy differ in their origins, impact, and purpose. Historically, legacies were often shaped organically over time, rooted in a person’s actions and the influence they had on their community or the world. Figures like Moses, King David, or Albert Einstein did not set out with the explicit goal of being remembered; rather, their legacies emerged from their dedication to their purpose—whether leading a people, ruling with justice, or advancing human knowledge. These legacies were typically tied to larger, timeless ideals that transcended individual ego, such as faith, morality, freedom, or the pursuit of truth.

In contrast, today’s cultural climate, influenced by social media and a heightened focus on personal branding, has shifted the concept of legacy. For many, leaving a legacy has become an active, almost performative pursuit. Athletes, entertainers, and influencers often frame their work around how they will be remembered, crafting narratives of greatness in real-time. The modern need to leave a legacy often feels more individualistic, centered on personal achievement and recognition, and it’s shaped by the immediacy of global attention rather than long-term impact.

The difference lies in the motivation and timeline. Historic legacies were often built over decades, with a focus on serving a higher purpose or solving a pressing need. Modern legacy-building can sometimes feel like a race against time, driven by the desire to be seen and remembered in an ever-changing, attention-driven world. The challenge for individuals today is to balance the pursuit of leaving a mark with the humility and authenticity that make legacies truly meaningful. Ultimately, the most enduring legacies—whether historic or modern—are those that serve others and stand the test of time, rather than those driven by ego or fleeting fame.

The truth is, legacy isn’t something you can fully control. It’s shaped by how the world receives you and how your actions resonate over time. A legacy pursued solely for ego may crumble under the weight of scrutiny, while one built on authenticity, hard work, and meaningful contributions can stand the test of time.

Legacy is a paradox: it can be a noble pursuit or a dangerous obsession. To live for a legacy of kindness, selflessness, and positivity—whether through teaching, caregiving, or sharing your passions—is a powerful act of purpose. It’s a way to make your life resonate beyond its borders.

But to chase legacy for fame, glory, or immortality is often a hollow pursuit. Who decides what your legacy is? History? Strangers? Family? Once you’re gone, it’s no longer in your hands, and even the brightest legacies fade.

So, what is legacy to you? Is it something you strive for, or does it feel like an illusion? Would you rather be remembered, or would you prefer to focus on living meaningfully in the here and now?

Ultimately, legacy may not be about how we’re remembered but about the lives we touch while we’re here. Whether you’re a scientist, a teacher, an artist, or a clown bringing joy to sick children, the real question isn’t what will they say about me when I’m gone? but how did I make the world better while I was here?

…And remember legacies are meant to out live you!