While we talk of people having a "significant birthday", in real-world terms a birthday is only an arbitrary calendar event, and being five weeks short of 70 is, or should be, just as important to someone who achieves that age as is his or her 70th birthday. Be that as it may, this event got me thinking a bit about Avot and age.
To many younger people, old age is old age and there is little reason to divide the elderly into separate age-based categories. In truth, the elderly are not a problem because they are old but because of their capabilities. What matters is whether they are healthy or unwell, independent or in need of help from others. Apart from the exceptional physical and intellectual vigour that Moses retained till his final day, the Tanach offers few rosy prospects ahead of those who are poised to enter what is now euphemistically termed the Third Age.
In the Torah no specific right or duty devolves on to anyone who lives beyond fifty, though the regular mitzvot continue to apply. The Book of Psalms offers the prospect of a 70-year lifespan, rising to 80 for those who have gevurah (a word that connotes not just physical but also psychological strength). Yehudah ben Teima, in Avot 5:25, goes beyond the psalmist's terminal point, dividing the years of old age into five categories. The fourth and fifth—which might unkindly be termed the zone of dotage—are discussed later while the first three, which can be summarized as “know,” “show” and “slow,” are considered here:
• Sixty: this is the onset of old age. Around this time many people know and appreciate that they “may not be quite what they used to be” but nonetheless carry on with their lives, sometimes even turning their thoughts to what they might do to ensure their comfort and security as they advance in years and cease to work for a living;
• Seventy: the mishnah describes this as “white-haired old age,” the time when a person appears to be getting old in the eyes of others: ageing shows as hair turns grey or white, wrinkles multiply, it takes more effort to get up out of a comfortable chair or climb a flight of steps. Mental acuity may well be unimpaired, but memory may fail a bit. Putting a positive spin on this, an older person has far more memories to preserve than does than a younger one—and the task of counting one’s blessings is bound to take longer when one has more blessings to count.
• Eighty: this is the age of “inner strength.” As the body’s physical performance declines, a person noticeably slows down, often generating impatience and annoyance in others who expect swifter responses. Inner strength and self-discipline are demanded if this person is to control the urge to complain about his or her aches, pains and general health and about the behaviour and attitudes of younger people. Self-discipline is also essential in order to suppress the increasingly irresistible urge to loosen natural inhibitions, indulging in socially inappropriate actions and speech. An alternative view (Rabbi Menachem Mordechai Frankel-Teomim, Be’er HaAvot) is that at 80 a person can command substantial spiritual strength, being increasingly free from the distraction of physical desires.
Going, going …
Ninety is the age of being bent over. A person’s physical and mental resources may still be intact, but the amount of effort required in order to use them may be disproportionately high. Many Torah scholars have reached the nineties and beyond, possibly more through their love of God, a stubborn determination to continue learning and their passionate enjoyment of it than through any other cause. Having said that, for the majority of people who reach that age, life imposes stiff challenges as they often struggle to combat the effects of deteriorating eyesight and hearing, seriously failing memory, chronic and irreversible physical conditions and, perhaps most sadly, the loneliness that comes from the irreplaceable loss of friends and peers.
In the eyes of one commentator, such a person has simply run out of life and is ripe for the grave. Another view which, while positive, is not for everyone, is that this person is bent over in constant prayer.
An alternative version of this Mishnah reads as לָשֽׁוּחַ (lashu’ach, “to be stooped”) as לְָשְׂוּחַ (lasu’ach, “to meditate”). The idea of a nonagenarian stepping back from active life and slipping into a world of restful meditation may be quite appealing, but the same word lasu’ach is double-edged: it also suggests engaging in idle chatter, with the connotation that at 90, when a person no longer has the strength to sin with his body, the only way one can meaningfully sin is through forbidden or inappropriate speech and it against this that one must guard oneself.
… gone
Reaching the age of one hundred is still regarded as an achievement, though there has been a small but steady increase in the number of centenarians over recent decades. The United Nations estimated that in 2012 the worldwide population of people over the age of 100 stood at around 316,600.
For as long as a Jew is alive he is fully bound by the laws of the Torah and remains obligated to learn it. However, even if he is active at this advanced age, bearing in mind his fragility and feebleness it is advisable for him to step back from serving as a Dayan (per Rabbi Frankel-Teomim again). He should also make every effort to repent, not because he should expect to die any day but because, if he is no longer in full command of his faculties, his repentance has little meaning (per Rabbi Yitzchak Magriso, Me’am Lo’ez).
It would be great to hear the views of some of the older readers of this blog as to how they understand this mishnah in the light of their own experiences. Do let us know!
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