The giant reptile paused in its tracks upon seeing me. It
stared at me out of huge eyes that were black as coal as I
tentatively reached out my hand to scratch its chin. Then,
deciding that I presented no threat -- after all, I was only
a quarter of its size -- it carried on walking. I quickly
moved out of its way to prevent being crushed by its great
weight. Then I climbed onto its back for a unique ride
through the African jungle.
The guide told me that this was one of thirteen giant
tortoises in Kenya. They had been washed ashore several
decades earlier, after having fallen off ships that had taken
them from their home in the Seychelles islands to use as
food. He estimated their age at close to two hundred
years.
This unique experience came to mind when surveying parshas
Chayei Soroh, "the life of Soroh." The title of the
parsha would seem to reflect a singular lack of good
taste, as it begins with the end of the life of Soroh. It
then proceeds to discuss the purchase of her burial plot
(from which we learn the laws of kiddushin) and the
later aging and subsequent death of Avrohom. Aside from the
unfortunate title, the concepts of aging and death, which are
the themes of this parsha, are also difficult to
understand. Why should people age?
It's not as ridiculous a question as it sounds if you've
studied tortoises. For certain tortoises don't age. They just
get older and older and older, without showing any decline in
physical or mental faculties, until eventually they are
overtaken by some disease or another. The aging process,
according to a recent issue of National Geographic,
seems to be linked to a specific set of genes that tortoises
don't possess. In experiments on fruit flies, scientists have
managed to counteract the aging effect, causing the flies to
live some thirty times longer than their usual life
expectancy. If they ever find a way to do that for humans,
we'll be living for more than two thousand years.
Perhaps the longer life-spans of humans before the Great
Flood was due to an absence of these genes. But in any event,
why do we have them?
Aging is a process that is bitterly resented and fought by
almost everyone. After National Geographic published
its article, in which it graphically detailed the ways in
which the body deteriorates throughout adulthood, they
received a number of letters from people protesting that they
didn't want to become depressed by reading about how they are
wasting away. Why does it happen?
The Chofetz Chaim used to speak about the Immortals Club, a
society that has millions of members worldwide. These are
people who believe that they are going to live forever. Of
course, they will profess to acknowledge that everyone dies
eventually. But for all practical intents and purposes they
don't actually think that it's going to happen to them. Why
do they blind themselves to the fact of mortality?
Because it interferes with their plans. Most people are
obsessed with pursuing material pleasures, financial
security, and other such goals that are limited to this world
alone. Their soul plays a tertiary role to their body. Hence,
people consider their twenties and thirties to be their
prime, their heyday. The fortieth birthday presents a mid-
life crisis, their forties and fifties are spent fighting the
aging process, and after that they go into a decline.
For the person who lives life with his soul as his highest
priority, things proceed somewhat differently. Avrohom was
well over a hundred years old when he was described as a
person who was "bo bayomim," which according to the
Kli Yakar means "coming into his heyday." He wasn't past his
prime, he was just entering it.
Aging is a kindness. The young person is too easily caught up
with his body and with material goals. The aging process
reminds him that he isn't going to live forever, and that
only spiritual accomplishments are going to accompany him to
the next world. He is reminded to increase his study of Torah
and his fulfillment of mitzvos, things that he can take with
him. Spiritual accomplishments increase with added age. The
Torah does not consider the elderly person to be a fogy or a
fuddy- duddy. He is a zoken, which is an acronym for
zeh konoh chochmoh -- "this one has acquired wisdom."
He has seen the best of times and the worst of times, and
these afford him a uniquely broad perspective on things.
Rav Yochanan would stand up [even] in the presence of elderly
Arameans (non-Jews), and say: "Imagine the experiences that
these people have passed through!" (Kiddushin 33a).
Armed with the wisdom of experience, focused on spiritual
pursuits, the zoken is able to work towards the next
stage of his life.
It has been noted that there are many parallels between death
and marriage. We already noted that the laws of kiddushin
are learned from the purchase of a burial plot. The day
of entry into both is a quasi Yom Kippur for which one
dresses in white; they are both followed by seven-day
periods. Some would use these parallels to compare marriage
to death. But the truth is that death is to be compared to
marriage.
In marriage, one enters into a more advanced stage of life,
which is a relationship with another. In death, too, one
enters a more advanced stage of life in which one consummates
a relationship with another -- G-d. It is no coincidence that
fall, the time of year in which the natural world dies away,
is the time of year in which we celebrate Sukkos and Shemini
Atzeres. These festivals represent the consummation of the
relationship between G-d and the Jewish people. Such a
relationship can only occur when the physical world has been
suitably negated. The gemara (Brochos 8a) tells us
that with the finest form of death, termed "the kiss," the
life departs from this world as easily as a hair being lifted
from a saucer of milk.
The story told of a certain rabbi on his deathbed who was
surprised to see his students weeping. "Why are you sorry for
me?" he asked them. "All my life, I have been preparing for
this moment!" The parsha of "the life of Soroh" does
not speak of the ending of her life. The posuk speaks
of the end of "the years of the life of Sarah." These
numbered only one hundred and twenty-seven full and
satisfactory years. But her life continued for an eternity
beyond that. "Tzaddikim bemisosom keruyim chaim -- The
righteous even after their deaths are called `living.' "
* Sources: Bereishis Rabbah 58:1, 65:9. Rabbi Shamshon
Raphael Hirsch, Bereishis 23:1.
Nosson Slifkin studies at the Mirrer Yeshiva and teaches
at Ohr Somayach. He is the author of the Focus Series on the
parsha, and Seasons of Life: The Reflection of the
Jewish Year in the Natural World, all published by
Targum Press.
