(Based on Rabbi Avraham Chaim Carmell’s adaptation of a shmuess by Rav Naftoli Elzas, Rosh Yeshivas Marbeh Torah)

The Rabbis tell us that our first matriarch, had three names. Her father, Haran, originally named her Yiskah. Then she assumed the name Sarai, and later was elevated to Sarah.

The Talmud explains that her original name, Yiskah, expressed three exemplary characteristics: (1) her Divine inspiration and prophecy; (2) her attractiveness; (3) her royal demeanor.  The first and last explanations are quite fitting for the mother of Klal Yisroel.

However, why is her appearance such a stellar attribute that can be equated with her prophecy and royalty? Granted, the Rabbis identify Sarah as one of the most beautiful women in the world. But does the Torah hold physical appeal to such a high degree that it should serve as one of the primary values for all subsequent generations of Jewish women to emulate?

These names represented different stages in Sarah’s life. Haran saw the unique beauty of his little daughter which, at an early age, was nothing more than an innocent attribute. As she got older, however, it became one of her greatest challenges – to maintain her discretion and dignity in the face of constant attention and admiration. A lesser person could have easily used their physical attraction to manipulate others and cause them to stumble spiritually.

Sarah, on the other hand, worked with great diligence to master self-control – presenting a presence of refinement, dignity, and modesty, the true definition of tznius.  This exceptional maturity of character led to her second name – Sarai (which alternatively could be understood as “my rule – or ruler of myself”).

The Vilna Gaon says that the effort women must make to maintain their tznius is equivalent to the exertion men must invest while toiling in Torah. Mastering these two seemingly disparate disciplines leads to the same result – immense spiritual achievement and connection with the Creator.

Hence, the name change from Sarai to Sarah - signifying the extraordinary level of kedushah she attained in her “third” stage of life.

We can now see a stunning connection to another series of 3’s attributed to Sarah, and understand an additional nuance in why the Torah described her lifetime as 100 years, 20 years and seven years – instead of simply 127 years old.

At age 20, she had the beauty of a seven-year-old, meaning that she treated her physical appearance with the simplicity of a young girl even while possessing the unequaled allure of a stunning adult. And at 100, she was as free of sin as a 20-year-old, meaning that she maintained her dignity, self-respect and modesty despite decades worth of opportunities to do otherwise.

“Who is the strong one?” asks the Mishna in Pirkei Avos. “The one who conquers his yetzer hara (negative inclinations).”

Sarah’s self-dominion is the lasting example Chazal offer us to learn from and model. Many of us have challenges which are difficult to overcome. Sometimes, the hurdles seem simply insurmountable.

These tests often manifest in the realm of eating and living a healthy lifestyle, such as conquering our desire to overeat during meals, or snack on unhealthy nosh. It can also be fighting against our lethargy to get moderate, daily exercise – even if it’s just walking up a flight of stairs instead of taking the elevator.

We can have the tendency to rationalize the consequences as nothing more than “just gaining a little more weight” or “feeling a little uncomfortable from eating too much” or “being out of shape and consistently fatigued.”  But if we can see our struggle in the context of dignity and self-respect, perhaps we can muster the needed resolve to set proper boundaries, make appropriate choices – and take needed action. We can strive to replicate the paradigm of our matriarch, exercising self-control and adopting a comportment of nobility that acknowledges our appreciation of the body HaShem gave us.

We can fulfill the teaching in Pirkei Avos, and develop our own spiritual greatness and kedushah – by simply saying no even when we feel like saying yes – and saying yes when we feel like saying no.