When I was younger, I thought success meant reaching the finish line.

Win the election. Qualify for the competition. Get the position you wanted. Cross the line, and everything before it would have been worth it.

But I’ve learned that’s not how life always works.

This week's parashah, Va'etchanan, begins with one of the most heartbreaking moments in the Torah. After leading the Jewish people through the desert for forty years, Moshe pleads with God one last time to let him enter the Land of Israel. He has sacrificed everything for this moment. He has led, taught, comforted, argued, and carried Am Israel through their lowest points.

And yet, God's answer is still no.

Moshe will see the land from afar, but he will never step foot inside it.

If anyone had earned the right to reach the destination, it was him.

For a long time, I saw this story as one about disappointment. But the older I get, the more I think it's actually about something else.

It's about understanding that sometimes what we learned on our journey is greater than the destination we imagined.

This year, I ran for S'ganit on my chapter board. I wanted the position so badly. I put myself out there in a new community, worked hard, and genuinely believed I could do it.

I lost.

At the time, it felt like my story had ended before it really began.

Instead, I became Gizborit.

Looking back now, I honestly can't imagine being anywhere else. This term, I’ll be serving as my chapter Gizborit, and I couldn’t be more excited. I have so many plans and ideas that I never would’ve thought of as Gizborit, and my interests have changed to a point where if elections were happening again tomorrow, I’d run for Gizborit. Im more than happy that I’m getting the chance to serve in a position that I’m truly excited about. 

The same thing happened with the international Chidon HaTanach competition in Israel (international bible competition)

Unlike many competitors, I didn't grow up with a strong religious background. In just a few months, I tried to learn what many people spend years studying. 

I ended up winning the Spanish Chidon and qualifying for the European competition, where I placed in the Top 10 and got the highest score out of the Spanish competitors. That meant I earned a spot at the International Chidon in Israel - a competition followed by a two-week camp with teens my age who want to travel and see Israel. 

I was beyond excited.

Then, because of the war, the program was canceled.

At first, it felt like all that work had led nowhere.

But when I look back now, that's not what I remember.

I remember the people I met along the way - people whose passion for Judaism inspired me. I remember conversations that made me start asking questions about my own beliefs instead of accepting that Judaism was simply something other people understood better than I did. I remember realizing that learning Torah wasn't just about preparing for a competition. It was becoming part of my own identity.

The camp never ended up happening for me.

But the person I became while preparing for it is still here.

Maybe that's part of what Moshe was trying to teach us in his final speeches. Even after learning that he wouldn't enter Israel, he didn't stop. Instead, he spent his remaining time preparing the people for a future he wouldn't get to experience himself. He repeated the 10 commandments . He taught the Shema. He reminded am Israel who they were and what kind of people they should aspire to become.

Moshe never crossed the Jordan river, yet every person who did carried part of his legacy with them.

We spend so much of our lives measuring ourselves by outcomes. Did I win? Did I get in? Did I make it to the finish line?

But sometimes life doesn't let us finish the race we trained for.

Sometimes elections don't go our way.

Sometimes programs get canceled.

Sometimes doors close for reasons completely outside our control.

That doesn't erase the work we put in or the person we became while doing it.

Moshe's greatest achievement wasn't entering the land of Israel. It was preparing a generation that could.

Maybe success isn't always about reaching the destination.

Maybe it's about becoming someone who was worth the journey, no matter where it ends.

Shabbat Shalom
Shir Shelas, BBYO Spain