"THE TRICK TO GROWING OLDER"
March 22, 2003
Rabbi Edward Paul Cohn
Temple Sinai
New Orleans, Louisiana
It may well be me, it certainly is not in the text per se, but I sense it
nevertheless: the rising level of impatience with Moses and Aaron. These
had been at it for quite a while as the leaders of the people. They had
served with such concentration and intensity through the enslavement and
the deliverance from both Egyptian taskmasters and from the army of
Pharaoh, which was finally defeated at the Sea of Reeds.
Now, Moses and Aaron had now led the people along the way through
desert sands and toward the Promised Land. They had even established the
Tabernacle and all of its contents, initiating at God's command, an entire
system of worship and ritual purity.
Human nature tends toward boredom and we tire quickly of looming
personalities. For only so long do we maintain our unquestioned allegiance
and our unfailing obeisance and deference to authority-particularly an
aging authority. And no one grows older faster than the ones who bear the
burdens of leadership. If you need proof of that, just look at the new lines
that are now so apparent on George W. Bush's face, and you'll know exactly
what I mean. In any event, I sense that the people were tiring of Moses and
Aaron's unquestioned authority and leadership. And, look, sure enough, in
the very next Torah portion we shall read, Nadav and Avihu, the sons of
Aaron, are soon to emerge as impatient contenders for the titles and power
held by their father and uncle, Aaron and Moses.
My dear friends, surely the challenge of our aging is not at all limited
to Biblical personalities or to those men and women of elevated rank and
service. The trick to growing older is a talent required of everyone of us; to
everyone who is gifted with the treasure of years. Each one who is rich in
years is inevitably to be called to engage both the blessing and the challenge
of longevity.
Jane Kenyon shares this insight in her wonderful and touching poem
which she calls "Otherwise." I want you to listen carefully to this.
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
Now they say that preachers and poets have only two subjects to
choose from: God and death. The experts claim that everything else is just
footnotes. But I ask of you, what about life? The richer we are in years, the
more we come to understand that we live most fully and poignantly in the
awareness of our mortality, knowing full well that someday it will be
otherwise. Part of the trick of growing older, then, is to remember every day
that we will die, and that the realization of that fact is not morbidity, but
simply to be aware of and present with life.
I was reading an article in The New York Times recently how yoga is
more popular than Bingo at centers for the aged. A senior center in New
York's St. Peter's Church is organized around a far more substantive
program of activities than used to be offered at such facilities. The fact of
the matter is that the elderly now view old age more robustly than did past
generations. Many do not care for the term "senior" any longer as it
connotes the symptomology of frail, sedentary souls waiting to die. That is
no longer the elderly! At least, by no means, the majority. There is a "new"
older adult: still active, still healthy, well-educated, and better off
financially. Such centers for the "new" elderly literally bustle with vigor.
The average age of members is about 70, and though there are still some
who would gladly elaborate upon their innumerable afflictions, most
exercise restraint in that area. They are upbeat.
One day, the center had a doctor come to talk about cancer, but no
one attended the lecture. Fact is, no one wanted to hear about it. Someone
suggested at another time establishing a bereavement group, but the
members didn't want that either. It is not that they are not aware of cancer
or the fact of loss, but they would rather give themselves over to the pursuit
of life.
This is a place, said some of those interviewed of the St. Peter's place
center which they attend, "where we emphasize sharing thoughts and not
kvetching."
Those who were to rebel against Moses and Aaron came to a messy
end themselves! The Torah seems to be telling us that those who are old
have a great deal yet to offer. "Old" is itself a relative term. And there is
little that can beat experience when wed with vision in leading ourselves
and others toward the future.
No one likes to get old, but some things are beyond our ability to
predict or to control. The trick to growing older is to take along the little
child within us. And as Tennyson's Ulysses makes clear:
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.