Vive La Old Age
The energy and verve with which youth is associated is more than just commendable, it is indispensable. It is the catalyst for the future Redemption. However, it does not negate the virtue of advanced age and its potential for advanced maturity and spirituality.
Jacob’s Purchase of the Birthright
This week’s parsha chronicles the genesis of the rivalry between Jacob and Esau, which Biblical and rabbinic literature see as the archetype of future rivalries between the Jewish people and the other dominant nations of the world in whose lands we have been subjects. One pivotal story sets the stage for the divergent ways and philosophies of the two brothers.
When Esau comes from the field one day he approaches Jacob who was then cooking a pot of lentils. Esau asks Jacob to literally stuff some of the lentils down his throat. Jacob, in response, asks him to sell him his birthright (Bechorah), to which Esau readily agrees.
Contrary to the anti-Semitic charges that poor, starving vulnerable Esau was exploited by the “crafty” Jacob, the Torah itself testifies that “Esau disgraced the birthright.” The birthright in this instance was not just the distinction of being called the oldest son; it was not just a financial advantage with regard to an inheritance, it represented the assumption of the role of spiritual heir to the legacy of Abraham and Isaac. It represented the role of priesthood; a person whose entire life is dedicated to serving G-d. That was absolutely not Esau’s vision of his future life.
Jacob, who sensed Esau’s materialistic bent, was convinced that he would not want the birthright. And if it were thrust in his lap he would not know what to do with it or care about living in accordance with its dictates.
Why Lentils?
To put things into sharper focus, the Midrash reveals that Esau had just returned from a crime spree, committing five heinous crimes against man and G-d, including murder. How can Jacob allow him to take the honored and sacred birthright “hostage?” He felt compelled to acquire it from him in a legal and consensual manner.
The plot thickens. The lentils were the traditional food given to a mourner. Our tradition informs us that Jacob was cooking lentils because his father Isaac was in mourning over the passing of his father, Abraham. Abraham, our Sages tell us further, was “taken” by G-d before his time so that he wouldn’t live to see the “nachas” from his grandson Esau; the day that he would make a conscious decision to disavow his connection to Abraham’s legacy of ethical monotheism. There can be not greater or more tragic irony that Esau wanted to partake of the lentils that symbolized Abraham’s death that was caused indirectly by Esau’s most recent crime spree!
But how did Esau explain why he was so eager to dispose of the birthright?
Commentators explain Esau’s rationale by focusing on the words Esau used to reject the birthright: “I am going to die, so why do I need the birthright?” What did he mean by these words? If the birthright was some amorphous spiritual benefit in which he had no interest he should have just said, “I don’t care for the birthright.” Why did he have to preface that rejection with the words “I am going to die?” Doesn’t everyone die, yet we seek to retain the good things we have?
When Death Really Begins
One approach to this question is based on the work entitled Divrei Shaul by Rabbi Yosef Shaul Nathanson, a nineteenth century prolific Bible and Talmud commentator and one of the most prominent authorities of Jewish law:
A wicked person begins to die the minute he or she is born. It is a gradual and degenerative process. Their lives are essentially about physical existence and physical existence by definition is about decomposition. The Medieval Bible commentator, Rabenu Bachaya ben Asher states: “An infant, from the moment he is born, he begins to atrophy. If one’s life is defined strictly by its materialistic and physical properties, it is subject to the law of diminishing returns. Therefore the more materialistic a person is the more they fear aging and its attendant diminution and denial of physical activity and pleasure.
The righteous, on the other hand, have a reverse view of aging. The older they get the closer to the truth they get. The older a student of Torah one becomes the more they know and the deeper they comprehend the Torah’s enduring teachings.
The birthright is a distinction accorded to one who is the oldest child. It is a sign of respect ascribed to one because he enjoys chronological seniority. This honorific title of bechor/first-born can only appeal to one who appreciates the gift of advancing through life and growing intellectually, emotionally and spiritually with every passing day even as they lose some of their physical strength and capabilities.
Of course, we pray to G-d to give us good health and not forsake us in our senior years, but regardless of the good health that seniors enjoy their physical abilities are not the same.
Anochi – I – My Essence
Esau therefore exclaims, “I am going to die,” meaning “I am slowly experiencing death with every passing moment. Why then would I want to add insult to injury and be known as the eldest brother and assume a role that is the very antithesis of my life’s philosophy?” Esau essentially stated that he worshipped the god of youth and anything that smacked of “old-ness” in any form or shape he resisted.
It is interesting to note that Esau, in his repudiation of the birthright, uses the Hebrew word “anochi” for “I” instead of the less emphatic “Ani.” Anochi connotes my essence and being. Esau was stating—consciously or subconsciously— “I, whoever I am, am on the road to death. My life is not a celebration of those things that are enduring and permanent. I neither need nor desire a symbol of spiritual progress, if it is at the expense of my idol—youth!”
“Give me Youth or Give me death!”
In our society, we see an increase in people’s lack of appreciation and respect for old age. We try to hide our wrinkles; we’re all only 39 years old, ala Jack Benny, etc. Tragically, there are people who reach a certain age where they are incapable of doing the things they were accustomed to doing in their youth because of physical limitations and who lose their desire for life. In some extreme, although not so rare, situations they fade quickly. Their motto sounds like “give me youth or give me death!”
But, that was the Esau mindset; and it is completely out of line with Jewish values and all that the Jewish people stood for that enabled them to survive as a people. Because we respected old age and were prepared to learn from their experience, our tradition was never broken. The chain of tradition that we spoke of last week is well and alive because we linked to our elders, our “first-born.”
Now there is certainly nothing wrong with appreciating the virtues associated with youth; on the contrary! In an earlier essay we cited the prophecy concerning the Messianic Age that G-d “will restore the hearts of the fathers through the children.” The energy and verve with which youth is associated is more than just commendable, it is indispensable. It is the catalyst for the future Redemption. However, it does not negate the virtue of advanced age and its potential for advanced maturity and spirituality.
Indeed, in the prophecies concerning the Messianic Age we are told that a day will come when we will see old men and women sitting in the streets of Jerusalem, attesting to their importance in the scheme of our survival and ultimate liberation.
The message the above conveys is the importance of finding meaning and purpose in our advanced years. What we might lose in terms of our physical prowess we must make up for in terms of our spiritual assets. Retirement and advanced age means more time to study Torah, volunteer, dispense with advice based on life experiences, etc. These are precious moments and opportunities not to be underestimated or squandered.
From the book Light from the Future: Parshas Toldos by Rabbi Heschel Greenberg, published by the Jewish Discovery Center.
