Wise, strong and elderly—Sarah has much to teach us

Chaye Sarah

Genesis 23:1-25:18

I Kings 1:1-31

Occasionally I meet an older person who reminds me what old age can look like at its very best.

On a recent visit to a synagogue on the East Coast, I met a 95-year-old woman who moved me deeply. By the end of the weekend, I was calling her "Dodah Leah" -- Auntie L. -- as do most members of her congregation. Through her, I came to understand a classic piece of midrash about our foremother, Sarah.

The Torah portion that bears Sarah's name begins by telling us that she lived for 127 years. Rashi, citing an ancient rabbinic midrash, makes meaning from that number. Rashi says that when Sarah was 100, she had the beauty of a 20-year-old and the innocence of a 7-year-old. (I'm following the reading suggested in Itturei Torah, Vol. 1, p. 172.)

Another midrash imagines that, at 100, Sarah had the strength of a 20-year-old, and that at 20, she already had the righteousness of a 100-year-old.

One commentator brings out the developmental understanding beneath the numbers: "Age has its own advantages: experience, serenity...resoluteness, and the like. By contrast, youth has its own advantages: passion, power and vitality, etc. The Torah is telling us that Sarah had the best of both times of life -- age and youth. When she was 20, she was already blessed with the advantages of age, and when she was 100, she had not lost the unique qualities of youth." (Ma'ayanah Shel Torah, cited in Itturei Torah, Vol. 1, p. 172)

Our secular culture understands very well the gifts of youth: beauty, vitality, strength and agility. Americans regard aging as a time of degeneration, loss and preparation for death. The Jewish view emphasizes the gifts of age: maturity, wisdom, reflectiveness and experience. In this traditional view, aging is a time for savoring a lifetime of wisdom and bequeathing that wisdom to the next generation.

All of that said, let me tell you about Dodah Leah. Spry, quick-witted and a delightful conversation partner, she definitely didn't look a day over 80.

Before long, she shared her story: no children of her own, a devoted public school teacher for many years, and now an incredibly vivacious volunteer in a long list of Jewish communal agencies.

Within moments of meeting my husband, she commented that God has been very good to us. We were stunned by how right on target she was, and by the gift for gratitude that was clearly central to her character. No wonder she has become family to a whole community of people, who savor her astuteness, her spirit and her uplifting perspective on life.

Within moments, Dodah Leah reminded me of another wonderful elder, a woman known throughout her synagogue as "Grandma Zelda."

Grandma Zelda also has no children of her own, but every day she goes to her local Jewish day school to serve as a tutor. Every Shabbat morning she arrives at synagogue with a bag of lollipops. She walks purposefully around kiddush, looking for children who might be in need of a lollipop.

Grandma Zelda distributes that week's stash of candy, but not before she shares an affectionate word with each child and gets a hug in return. While she has had her share of hard times, Grandma Zelda is today a fountain of love and affirmation of life. Within moments of saying hello, words of love and appreciation come to her lips.

Imagine this woman walking around kiddush, saying with complete genuineness to person after person, "I really love you. I love this place. You are my family, you know. I wake up every day and I am so grateful." On her 80th birthday, her synagogue gave her a certificate declaring Grandma Zelda the congregation's official grandmother.

If I live to an old age, I don't know if I will be like Dodah Leah or Grandma Zelda. It takes many factors that are beyond our control: good genes, social support and, perhaps most of all, mazel.

But perhaps I ought to start now, in my 40s, learning from elders I know who seem to exemplify the very best wisdom and beauty of the later years of life. Maybe then, I'll have at least a better chance, toward the end of my life, of being a little like Dodah Leah, Grandma Zelda or Mother Sarah.