So long, Meat Loaf

Yesterday saw the death, at the age of 74, of Michael Lee Aday, better known as Meat Loaf. A phenomenally successful musician and composer, his Bat Out of Hell trilogy of albums sold more than 65 million copies worldwide. He will be mourned by legions of appreciative fans, as well as by his family and friends.

I respected his talent and enjoyed his music, but didn't always see eye to eye with his lyrics. In particular, I was troubled by a line from his track "Everything Louder Than Everything Else":

"A wasted youth is better by far than a wise and productive old age"

I had already passed through my own youth by the time I heard this track but had yet to reach old age. Even so, the line troubled me.

The squandering of one's youth is not a policy that is endorsed by Pirkei Avot. Rather, it is advantageous to learn while one is young (per Elisha ben Avuyah, Avot 4:25), when it is easier to absorb new ideas and skills. Time that is lost is time that cannot be recovered

The notion of an old age being wise and productive is however quite consonant with the Ethics of the Fathers, where intellectual maturity begins at 40, and the ripe old age of 80 is cited as the age of gevurah, "strength" (Avot 5:25). We are encouraged not to be adversely judgemental of the way youngsters spend their youth, being advised to judge others favourably (Avot 1:6). However, if we have survived our teens and twenties, negotiated the perils of middle age and are now edging toward what Frank Sinatra calls the "final curtain", we should make an effort to say something positive about being old, to reassure the young that they should look forward to joining us when the time is ripe.

As an aside, old age doesn't usually get a good press in rock lyrics. One of the most famous lines in any rock number -- "I hope I die before I get old" -- was composed by British band The Who and features in their iconic number "My Generation". That song was launched in 1965. Could the band have known that, as old men themselves, they were still going to be singing that self-same song to audiences more than half a century later?

Going, going ... gone!

Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel (Avot 2:13) advises that the right path for a person to follow is that which results from his looking ahead and being able to identify issues and events before they occur. I failed miserably in this regard earlier this week when I walked unsuspectingly into a 70th birthday party that my English family had organised for me a full five weeks before my actual birthdate.

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!

The Ages of Man -- and Woman?

The following post, which was commissioned for the Judaism Reclaimed Facebook Group, has been developed from two earlier posts (here and here) on this weblog.

The Torah reading for parashat Chayei Sarah commences with a recitation that the life of matriarch Sarah was “a hundred years and twenty years and seven years”. Regarding this unusual mode of expressing the number 127, Rashi famously cites a midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 58:1) to teach that Sarah was as sinless at 100 as she was when she was 20 [the age at which one becomes liable for heavenly punishment], and as beautiful at 20 as she was at 7. Alternatively, she was as beautiful at 100 as she was at 20, and as sinless at 20 as she was at 7 (according to Shadal, this is the original version of Rashi’s source). Either way, we can conclude that Sarah lived a long life, a life in which she remained constant in her virtue and in the quality of her personal appearance.

On the subject of age and advancing years, Pirkei Avot (5:25) has much to say. In particular, it features a lifestyle chronology that begins with learning the written Torah at five and concludes with a person being effectively “out of it” by the time he reaches 100. This Mishnah is plainly addressed to ordinary people and does not describe the biblical patriarchs and matriarchs, whose pre-Torah lives were governed by factors that applied to them but not to us. In Sarah’s case, of the three ages cited in the opening of this week’s parashah, only two of them—20 and 100—are found in the Avot list. While 100 is the age at which one ceases to count for anything, Jewish tradition makes it clear that Sarah continued to take an active part in life. Likewise 20 is the age at which one goes to work (opinions vary as to whether this means making a living or going out to learn Torah), but we do not find that Sarah had a day job at that or any other age. The only other age we learn of in Sarah’s biblical biography is 90, this being the mishnaic age at which physical weakness makes itself manifest—but it is also the point at which Sarah conceives Isaac (Bereshit 17:17).

The “ages of man” Mishnah raises delicate issues in contemporary Jewish thought, since it appears to be addressed only to men. There are at least several possible views one can take. These include the following:

• Women are excluded from the equation because this Mishnah is exclusively a men-for-men teaching;
• Women are not mentioned in this Mishnah because there is no need of a separate list. One only needs to make the necessary changes as one goes along (e.g. substituting 12 for 13 as the age of being bound by mitzvot and deleting 18 as the age for getting married, since this is a men’s mitzvah only);
• There is no need for a women’s list, or it is impossible to create one, since the biological, familial and social factors that govern the course of a woman’s life are more varied and uncertain than those of men;
• The mishnah does not actually address men in general, because it maps out an ideal course only for those who seek a life of Torah study in which everything else is purely incidental. Since it applies so narrowly and embraces only a minority of males, it is not gender-specific and there is no need to consider how, or to what extent, it applies to women

We live in a world in which women’s secular education and Torah study are facts on the ground and it is now nearly 90 years since the death of another Sarah—Sarah Schenirer—who lifted women’s education to a new and hitherto unprecedented level from which it has continued to rise. While classical and modern commentators generally avoid any mention of the absence of a “women’s list”, Judaism Reclaimed (chap. 41) explores the extent to which the biblical precedent of Devorah, and the halachic mechanism which some authorities understand it to have endorsed, can be utilised in the modern era of more widespread and substantial Jewish education for women. It would be good to hear from leading Torah scholars and thinkers as to whether there should be a parallel set of guidelines for women and, if so, as to what it might contain.

Nice things for the righteous: a privilege or a responsibility

Towards the end of Avot (at 6:8) there is a Baraita that calls for a bit of attention. It starts off like this:

Rabbi Shimon ben Yehudah used to say in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, “Beauty, strength, wealth, honour, wisdom, old age, venerable old age and children are fitting for the righteous and fitting for the world”. 

It then breaks off into a string of proof verses that either do or don't prove the point of the Baraita, whatever that might be.  The usual reading of this teaching is that the eight things listed in it are, well, fitting for the righteous (a class of people who are sometimes assumed to be rabbis).

Looking againat this Baraita, I wondered whether it might actually convey quite the opposite meaning to the normal one.  This would be the case if the eight things listed are not rewards or privileges, but instead impositions for anyone who posssesses them. In other words, this is a list of burdens that place responsibility on whoever is burdened with them.  How does this work? Let us take each term in order:

·     Beauty: a person’s physical beauty is a snare and a delusion, an external asset that deteriorates over time. An earlier Mishnah (4:27) has already warned us of the danger of taking people at face value, and the Book of Proverbs (31:30) emphasizes that it is a false value (“Favor is false and beauty is vanity”). Only a person with a strong moral backbone can be sure to cope with the pressures and expectations placed upon them by the perception of others that they are beautiful.

·     Strength: As Ben Zoma explains above (4:1), strength is defined in terms of the ability to exercise self-discipline in controlling oneself.  Given the powerful pull of a person’s evil inclination, having the strength to overcome it would seem to be an essential and ever-present weapon in the tzaddik’s armory of middot. The sad lot of the tzaddik is that his evil inclination is stronger than that of others, so he has need of greater strength to combat it (Sukkah 52a).

·     Wealth: Hillel the Elder has already taught (2:8), “the more the wealth, the more the worry”. Again, strength of character and moral rectitude are required if a person is to pass the test of affluence.  While we can all be rich—since the one who is truly rich is the person who is content with his portion (4:1)—this is something that applies to everyone, whether they are tzaddikim or otherwise.

·     Honour: of the eight items listed in this Baraita, none is as potentially toxic as honour: it is the only one that has the potential to kill a man spiritually stone dead (4:28). An ordinary individual runs the risk of chasing honor when it is as yet unearned, and of letting it get to his head even if it has been fairly earned. A tzaddik will however be able to handle its toxicity and treat it in the way Avot prescribes, by giving it to others (4:1 again) and by according it to the Torah (4:8)

·      Wisdom: like honor, wisdom can be dangerous in the hands of someone who lacks the requisite moral framework within which to utilize it. Pharaoh invoked wisdom when deciding to deal with his “Jewish Problem” (Exodus 1:10: "Come, let us deal wisely with them..."): this misdirected wisdom could have resulted in the extinction of the Children of Israel but instead caused Pharaoh’s personal humiliation and the destruction of his own fighting force. Balaam’s attempts at prophecy could not harm Israel but his wise counsel did, when he advised Balak on how to break the desert nation’s commitment to God (Numbers 31:16).  Few men of their generation were as wise as King David’s counsellor Achitophel (Chagigah 15b; Bemidbar Rabbah 22) and King Saul’s chief herdsman Doeg (Chagigah 15b; Tehillim Rabbah 52:4), yet their intellectual prowess was ill matched with their scheming politics. The harsh reality is that wisdom is only safe in the hands of someone who can be trusted—and that is a massive responsibility, as Moses discovered when he was the only person who possessed the necessary wisdom to resolve his people’s disputes (Exodus18:13-26).

·     Early old age: 60 or thereabouts is the time when a person becomes conscious of the fact that, while he may feel no different on the inside, he is starting to look old. Without a firm moral basis that supports a tzaddik, the drive to “have a final fling” or to yield to what is euphemistically called a “midlife crisis” can be overwhelming.

·     Venerable old age: the Talmud (Shabbat 152a) reports the words of Barzillai the Gileadite (2 Samuel 19:35) to the effect that, on reaching the ripe old age of 80, there was no longer much pleasure to be derived from life in the King’s court.  The diminution of one’s senses of sight, taste and hearing can weigh heavily on someone whose pleasures depend on them, but a tzaddik will not complain to God about his sad and feeble state. Rather, he should be well equipped to be able to take the disappointments and the tribulations of advanced old age as a time to recall with gratitude his earlier days and the opportunities he once had to serve others. Now is the time to reflect on the opportunities that he can give others to do acts of kindness for him.

·     Children: one does not need a Torah source to support the proposition, evidenced by life itself, that bringing up children can take its toll on even a loving parent. The price one pays for parenting can be steep in terms of time, effort, frustration, sleep deprivation, temper control and general inconvenience. Nor is there any point at which one can predict that the responsibility for raising one’s children will end. For a true tzaddik none of this is a burden.