Rise Because of the Aged Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg Beth Am Synagogue Parashat Kedoshim, 26 Nisan 5774 ~ 4.26.14
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Rise Because of the Aged Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg Beth Am Synagogue Parashat Kedoshim, 26 Nisan 5774 ~ 4.26.14 One of many striking things about Ari Shavit’s book, My Promised Land is its descriptions of Tel Aviv youth culture. He paints vivid scenes of the urban club scene, disaffected teenagers turning to drugs and casual sex for all the usual reasons young people sometimes make destructive choices but also for some more uniquely Israeli reasons. Shavit perceives an itch to be scratched, a pervasive Israeli drive (and right) to exist and thrive – and the human psychological cost of this success – particularly on the young. The Tel Aviv scene is in part an outgrowth of Zionist youth culture from sixty and seventy years ago, a youth culture that birthed kibbutzim, the Palmach and Hagganah and quite simply the miraculous advent of modern Israel. But, in my estimation, this is also a sign of a country in tension with its core values. A salient example: When you board any bus in Israel, there’s a sign near the driver and the door. It encourages people to give up their seats for the elderly. This is typical in other countries, but in Israel three Hebrew words suffice: Mipnei Seva Takum, “Rise before the Aged.” These words, from this week’s parasha (Lev. 19:32), demonstrate a society in tension with its ancient Jewish mores. In many ways Israeli society is quite deferential to the elderly and respectful of the extended family unit, but like so much of the modern world, it also champions, almost fetishizes the young. The Shavit book is worthy of consideration for many reasons. I hope you will RSVP and join us for a visit from Prof. Yoram Peri May 21st. Space is limited at Hersh’s Pizza so you must RSVP, and thanks to Aaron Levin, Stephanie Hershkovitz and our Continuing Education committee for making it a reality. But today I actually don’t want to talk about the Shavit book nor Israeli culture – its inspiring successes and distressing challenges. Israel is hardly the only country so youth-obsessed. I lived five years in LA which, with the entertainment industry, is in some ways the pinnacle of youth culture. America – indeed the West – is affected (or infected) with a fear of aging and its antecedent: fear of death. We apply creams, dye our hair, perhaps surgically alter our bodies, all with the goal of appearing ageless. Acting younger is not always a virtue, but looking younger and feeling younger is a Western aspiration. Miriam and I saw Pippin recently on Broadway. One of the best lyrics is sung by Pippin’s grandmother who quips: Here is a secret I never have told Maybe you'll understand why I believe if I refuse to grow old I can stay young till I die. As someone who just celebrated his 38th birthday and is still (I think) reasonably young, I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with being young. And Jewish tradition surely values children and young people as our recently concluded Pesach holiday shows. But it’s instructive also to look at how our texts view aging and the elderly. What is their place in society? If modern American and Western society overvalues youth, Jewish tradition seems to do the opposite, foregrounding the elderly and putting great stock and faith in those who have been around the block a few times. After all, the earliest ruling body in Torah is comprised of shivim z’kanim, the seventy elders who serve as a precursor to the future Sanhedrin. Tanakh and Talmud are replete with aged heroes, often times their age being an explicitly positive character trait. 1 So aging and the aged are Jewish values, but you might ask what exactly about old age is virtuous? We know that simply being human is a value; another verse from Kedoshim makes this clear: “V’ahavta l’re’acha kamocha, love your fellow as yourself” (19:18). But while being fashioned in the image of God entitles each of us to kind and fair treatment, is being old itself worthy of deference? Perhaps not. First century Aramaic translator Onkelos renders mipnei seva takum: “min kadam d’savar b’oreita takum, stand before the Torah-learned.” Rashi adds, “One might think this is reverence for a disreputable old man. Therefore, the text [goes on to say] Vahadarta pnei zaken, you shall honor the face of the ‘old and learned.’” The word zaken, explains Rashi (from Kiddushin 32b), implies not just greying hair (as in the word seiva) or wrinkled skin but also wisdom. Of course Rashi was dead at sixty-five, too young even to collect Social Security, but Ramban, who was born 150 years later, disagrees. He, and his predecessor Ibn Ezra contend, as does the force of Jewish law, that each aged person, even a sinful or foolish one, and certainly one who suffers with dementia, is worthy of honor. And not only Jewish older adults, but non-Jews, as well, are to be treated reverentially. What must we do to honor the elderly? Rashi says, “One should not sit in his seat nor contradict his statements.” In other words, people’s age affords them two things: a place and a voice. Essentially we say, “We will not supplant you though you may move more slowly; and we are hesitant to refute you since your years on earth mean you most likely know more than most of us.” Rabbi Harold Kushner tells a story, perhaps apocryphal, about the mystery writer Agatha Christie. Her second husband, I gather, was a prominent archaeologist. Once a reporter asked her what it was like to be married to him. She replied “Oh, it’s wonderful. The older I get, the more interested he is in me.” Kushner explains: “Once we get past superficial physical impressions, older people are more interesting than younger ones. Of course we are. We have experienced more. We have met more people and learned from them…” (A Heart of Wisdom, ed. Susan Berrin). And the preference for senior citizenry has halakhic implications as well. You may be surprised to know that if, God forbid, one must choose between saving the life of a young child or that of an elderly person, it’s the grown woman or man who takes precedence. How to practically make such a choice, I don’t know, but Jewish tradition, ever mindful of the collective, understands the older person is a known quantity whose accumulated life experience and wisdom can inspire many others. Not so with the young child. And it’s not just being old that is a Jewish value; looking old is too! According to the midrash, until Avraham Avinu, no one looked old. Abraham found that when speaking with others, they would not afford him the respect due an elder. Grey hair and wrinkles were a direct result of Abraham’s petition to God: “Make me look old,” he says, “so that people know my years on earth have been numerous.” And the Pesach Haggadah recaptures a story told about Eleazar ben Azariah, the young rabbi chosen to replace Rabban Gamliel as head of the Sanhedrin after the latter was deposed. Though a learned sage and competent diplomat, there is concern about the fact Eleazar was only eighteen years old. Would he be taken seriously? So a miracle is created: “Harei ani k’ven shivim shana,” Eleazar becomes instantaneously grey, similar in appearance to a seventy-year old man. Of course, had he been a pulpit rabbi, this wouldn’t have required a miracle, as some of you may have noticed from my own increasingly salt and pepper appearance. So, being old and looking old have value in Jewish community. And halakha is clear that older adults must be treated with compassion and respect, their golden years being spent in healthy living situations, their needs provided for. This seems obvious, but we know warehousing and underserving many elderly, particularly the poor, is a serious problem in America today. I could wag 2 my finger and say we must do better and that’s true. But perhaps we can reframe the issue. Maybe a better approach is to ask, given the reality of our youth-oriented society, how do older adults have value to the young? It’s been said “youth is wasted on the young,” but in reality youth is utterly dependent on the old. We translated our verse from the parasha “rise before the aged,” literally “rise before his face, in their presence.” But the word mipnei can also mean “on account of.” In other words, “Rise because of the aged.” “When is Israel able to stand?” asks the midrash (Exodus Rabbah 3:8). “When it has elders… for one who takes advice from elders never stumbles.” Pirkei Avot (5:24) delineates fourteen stages of life. Childhood is about learning and young adulthood about achievement – in career, relationships and parenthood. But middle adulthood through old age is about sharing your knowledge with others. The old enable the young to stand – on their shoulders and the shoulders of generations past. This is why the obligation to teach children falls not just to parents but to grandparents as well (Kiddushin 30a). Take note Bubbies and Zaydes, PopPops and Nanas: in some ways, grandparents have even more to offer the young. And what happens if there’s a conflict? What if, for example, an elder wants to destroy something while a youth wishes to build? The Talmud says provocatively: “Stirat z’keinim binyan u’vinyan ne’arim stirah, When the old tear down they build, but when the young build they tear down.” (Megillah 31b).