Honoring Our Non-Jewish Elders

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Left: [Great] Uncle William, at the age of 4, in February 1921
Right: [Great] Uncle William, at the age of 101, in July 2018

Honoring Our Non-Jewish Elders

Uncle William

My brother and I recently returned from our annual trip to Hawaii, where our mom's side of the family has lived for several generations. My mom's father was one of thirteen siblings, the oldest of whom was born in 1902. Of those thirteen siblings, only one is still alive: [Great] Uncle William (whom we refer to as "Uncle William," even though he's my grandfather's brother). 

Uncle William was born on April 1st, 1917.

Yes, your math is correct: this past April 1st was his 101st birthday. 

Let's put Uncle William's personal timeline into perspective by using American history and American innovation as a basis of comparison. The year Uncle William was born, Woodrow Wilson was president (#28), and Liliuokalani, the last Queen of Hawaii, was still alive. Hawaii wouldn't become a state until 42 years later. Television wasn't invented until Uncle William was almost 10 years old. He was a teenager during the Great Depression, and in his mid-20's he witnessed the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. He still holds it against FDR for taking America off the gold standard in 1933. He was too old to be in the Korean War, which started in his mid-30's, and he was nearly 60 when the Vietnam War ended. He was 75 at the birth of the World Wide Web, and he was 84 on 9/11. 

Impressive, no?

Uncle William worked as a furniture repair man for most of his life, and only retired at the age of 95, when he started having a hard time getting up after sitting down on the floor to work. He remained active into his 90's, riding his bike into town, trading up his vehicle for a new one (because "the old car didn't fit my lifestyle"), and mowing his own lawn ("it takes me three days").

All the while, his mental faculties didn't dull in the slightest. While not a towering intellectual or even a deep thinker, Uncle William definitely has a reflective soul. Although he didn't go to college or graduate from high school (my grandfather was the only one of his siblings to do that), Uncle William was a reader - especially of newspapers. He followed the news to the point where we could ask him for his opinion on any current event, and he would have something thoughtful to say. (For the record: he didn't like Obama because he was a politician and didn't like Trump because "he's just a big mouth" and he thinks that America is going downhill because Democracy appeals to the lowest common denominator; when we asked him who America's last great leader was, he said, "Clinton was good ... the man - not the wife.")

Unfortunately, Uncle William had a prostate issue two years ago, and needed to start using a catheter, which slowed him down. Things started going downhill from there. He had made it to the age of 98 living on his own, but was finally forced to hire an attendant to help him. By the time we visited him this summer his vision and hearing had deteriorated, and he now has 24-hour care.

And yet, he's still mentally with it! We talked with him for about an hour, and said that we'd visit him next summer ("If I'm still around!").

After visiting Uncle William this summer, I found myself wondering: "What would Torah say? How would Judaism frame my interaction with a man of Uncle William's age?"

I decided I'd look into it. This is what I found.

The Halacha of Honoring Non-Jewish Elders

The "halachic address" of our topic is the mitzvas aseh (positive commandment) of "mipnei seivah takum," which is derived from the pasuk: "In the presence of old age you shall rise, and you shall honor the presence of a sage, and you shall revere your God - I am Hashem" (Vayikra 19:32). Here is the Sefer ha'Chinuch's [1] summary of the basic mitzvah:

[The 257th mitzvah is] to honor chachamim (the wise) and rise before them, as it is stated: "you shall rise up before seivah (lit. white hair)," which Onkelos translated as: "you shall rise up before one who knows Torah." Our Sages of blessed memory explained "and you shall honor the presence of a zakein (lit. elder)" as referring to none other than zeh she'kanah chochmah (one who has acquired wisdom). The reason why Scripture expresses "chacham" as "zakein" is because a young chacham has seen through his chochmah (wisdom) what an elder has seen through the multitude of his years.

While the primary form of this mitzvah is to honor chachamim, we follow the opinion of R' Issi ben Yehudah in the Gemara who says that "[this pasuk] implies all [types of] seivah" which even includes elders who are not chachamim. Here is the Rambam's [2] codification of this secondary component of the mitzvah, which includes the case at hand:

We stand in the presence of a zakein ha'muflag b'ziknah (an elder who is very advanced in age) even though he is not a chacham (wise man). Even a young chacham should stand in the presence of a zakein ha'muflag b'ziknah – though he is not obligated to stand to his full stature, but only enough to show respect to him. And even a non-Jewish elder we honor with words, and we lend him a supporting hand, as it is stated: “rise up in the presence of old age” – which implies old age in any sense of the term.

The Shulchan Aruch [3] brings down the Rambam's formulation almost verbatim. Although there is some debate as to what age would qualify someone as a zakein ha'muflag b'ziknah - with opinions ranging from 60, to 70, to 90 - I suspect everyone would agree that Uncle William's age of 101 years places him firmly within this halachic category.

The source of the Rambam's halacha is the Gemara in Kiddushin (33a), which states:

R’ Yochanan would rise up in the presence of a non-Jewish elder, saying: “How many experiences he has endured!” Rava would not rise up, but he would show him honor. Abaye would lend his hand to [such] elders.

The Rambam paskins (halachically rules) in accordance with Rava and Abaye that although we do not stand up for a zakein goy (non-Jewish elder) as we would for a zaken Yisrael (Jewish elder), we show him honor in other ways: verbally and by providing assistance.

Although the Rambam's citation of our pasuk and subsequent explanation might seem to imply that he holds that honoring a zakein goy is part of the mitzvah de'oraisa (Biblical obligation), it is pretty clear that this isn't what he actually holds. If it were, then there would be no differentiation between a zakein goy and a zakein Yisrael. Rather, showing honor to a zakein goy is either a mitzvah mi'de'rabbanan [4] (Rabbinic mitzvah), or something we do out of darchei shalom [5] ("ways of peace," intended to maintain peace between Jews and non-Jews). This explains why we differentiate between a zakein goy and a zakein Yisrael - to show that the two acts of giving kavod do not share the same halachic nature.

The Philosophy Behind the Halacha

The Sefer ha'Chinuch offers the following reason for this mitzvah as a whole (i.e. to honor chachamim):

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that the main purpose of man's having been created in the world is for the sake of chochmah, so that he will recognize his Creator, therefore, it is fitting for people to honor one who has attained this. As a result, others will be inspired about it. It is based on this reason that Issi ben Yehudah said in the Gemara Kiddushin that even an uneducated elder - i.e. one who is not wise - is included in this mitzvah, for it is befitting to honor him because in his multitude of years he has seen and recognized some of the works and wonders of Hashem, and this is worthy of honor. This is why Rebbi Yochanan said there in the Gemara Kiddushin: "the halacha is in accordance with Issi ben Yehudah" - on the condition that [the elder] is not a confirmed sinner, in which case, he has deprived himself of honor.

Even though we have established that the obligation of honoring a zakein goy is not a part of the mitzvah de'oraisa, the reason behind this act of honor is definitely related. As stated above, R' Yochanan explained his reason for standing in the presence of a zakein goy, saying: "How many (harpatkei) experiences he has endured!" Rashi [6] explains the unusual term "harpatkei":

harpatkei [means] experiences and troubles; and they have seen many miracles and wonders.

According to Rashi, we honor a zakein goy not for any type of specialized chochmah that he may or may not have. Rather, we honor him for the chochmah that he has gained from his life-experience and the wondrous phenomena he has had the opportunity to witness. This would certainly apply to non-Jew elders, no matter where they're from.

Rav Hirsch [7] provides a similar explanation, differentiating between the two reasons for honoring an elder, which he relates to the two words used to denote "old age" (i.e. seivah and ziknah):

He who honors seivah honors experience; that is, he honors the natural human perception that matures through the repeated events of life and nature. He who honors ziknah honors wisdom; that is, he honors the understanding of life and nature that is obtained from God's Word. For God's Word reveals the Divine source and purpose of life and nature, and their significance for our mission. We must pay tribute to both: the clear and circumspect human intellect, which matures through experience; and the spirit of God, which proceeds from the Torah. And whenever we find them, in the aged and in the wise, we are to show our homage by rising and honoring.  

The Ralbag [8] seems to learn our pasuk as teaching two separate mitzvos: "in the presence of old age you shall rise" commands us to honor elders, regardless of their wisdom, and "honor the presence of a sage" commands us to honor chachamim. He explains the first mitzvah very similarly to the Sefer ha'Chinuch, but throws in a Gersonidean twist at the end:

"in the presence of old age you shall rise" is a mitzvas aseh to rise up in the presence of every aged person, in order to honor him. There is a benefit in this: on account of this, those who are young in days will listen to the words of the aged, and their words will be precious to them, and they will behave in accordance with their discipline. For the aged, due to the multitude of worldly events that they have witnessed, will come to know by way of experience many principles of decision-making and ethics. Thus, one who listens to these words will be saved from many afflictions that would have befallen him, were it not for the advice of the aged. Furthermore, [one who honors the aged] will take it to heart to give great honor to Hashem, Who is Eternal - Who never didn't exist, and will never depart [from existence]. 

In other words, this mitzvah operates on two levels. On a practical level, the mitzvah facilitates the bequeathal of valuable life lessons from the older generation to the younger. On a philosophical/psychological level, this mitzvah trains us to have reverence for existence, which - according to the Ralbag - will ultimately strengthen our reverence for Hashem, Whose Existence is Eternal.

Ibn Ezra, [9] however, has a radically different take on this mitzvah:

The meaning of "in the presence of old age you shall rise" is on account of a dead person, because an elder is close to death, since his body is considered to be as though it is dead ... the meaning of "you shall fear your God" is that He will punish you in the days of old age.

According to the Ibn Ezra, we stand up in the presence of the elderly not to show them honor, but to remind ourselves of our impending death!

Concluding Thoughts

As is often the case with taamei ha'mitzvos (reasons for mitzvos), it is entirely possible for multiple explanations to be correct. All of these explanations ring true based on the time I've spent with Uncle William.

Have my encounters with Uncle William led me to value and revere the unique type of wisdom he has attained as a result of his long life? Yes. Am I more inclined to listen closely to his words than I would if I heard them from someone closer to my age? Yes. When I see him, do I become more cognizant of the finitude of my own life, and the eventuality of my own eventual death? Definitely.

And guess what? I even got to perform the mitzvah this trip by lending him a helping hand when he wanted to move to a different chair!

I realize that this blog post didn't break new ground or anything. I just think that it's a great example of how halacha enriches every area of my life, and I wanted to share that example with you.


[1] Sefer ha'Chinuch: Parashas Kedoshim, Mitzvah #257
[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Talmud Torah 6:9
[3] Rav Yosef Karo, Shulchan Aruch: Yoreh Deah 244:7
[4] Rav Yoel Sirkis (Bach), Bayis Chadash: Yoreh Deah 244
[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Yaakov (Semag), Sefer Mitzvos Gadol: Aseh #13
[6] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Talmud Bavli: Kiddushin 33
[7] Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, Commentary on Vayikra 19:32
[8] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Vayikra 19:32
[9] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Vayikra 19:32

Koheles: On Romanticizing the Past

Artwork: Time Walk, by Chris Rahn

Koheles: On Romanticizing the Past

There's a certain category of Facebook posts that I encounter from time to time. Sometimes these posts contain reminiscences about the past. Sometimes they voice criticisms of new fads and trends. Almost all of them feature either an explicit or implicit critique of "kids these days," and almost all of them express their message in a curmudgeonly manner. Here are some examples:

Whenever I see or hear anything like this, I am reminded of a pasuk in Koheles:

אַל תֹּאמַר מֶה הָיָה שֶׁהַיָּמִים הָרִאשֹׁנִים הָיוּ טוֹבִים מֵאֵלֶּה, כִּי לֹא מֵחָכְמָה שָׁאַלְתָּ עַל זֶה:

"Do not say, 'How was it that former times were better than these?' - for you have not asked this out of wisdom" (Koheles 7:10).

The question is: What is the fallacy here? Why is it foolish to ask why the former times were better than these? 

Rav Avraham Farissol [1] offers the following answer:

It is human nature for those who are advanced in age, after they have grown old and have endured the vicissitudes of life, to make this error of degrading the present while lavishing praise and adoration on the past, [saying,] "I remember the olden days." [In truth,] it is possible that the past was worse than this! 

The reason [why these elderly people say this] is because the days of youth are perpetually sweet for all young people, whereas the days of old age are bitter.

Therefore, this chacham (i.e. Shlomo ha'Melech) warned you to avoid this [type of thinking] so that you don't become enfeebled or increase your worry as you grow old, thereby causing you to refrain from embracing that which you need to do. [2]  

He says, "for you have not asked this out of wisdom" because "if you have become wise, you have become wise for yourself" (Mishlei 9:12) to know that time is cyclical, going round and round, causing whatever happens to happen, and there is nothing which is [actually] new - only accidentally new, and new to him but not new to the earlier generations, "for that which was is that which will be" (Koheles 1:9)

According to my understanding, Rav Farissol's answer can be broken down into five points:

(1) The feeling that life was better in the olden days isn't necessarily true; some things might be better, but others might be worse.

(2) This rosy view of the past is not the result of a rigorous, objective investigation and evaluation of the quality of life in each time period; rather, it stems from a psychological tendency which is prevalent in those who are advanced in age.

(3) The cause of this psychological tendency is that the days of youth tend to be sweet, relative to the days of old age; this "sweetness" colors one's perception of the entire time period.

(4) Shlomo ha'Melech warned us about this because this type of thinking can become a stumbling block in old age, insofar as it prevents one from dealing with the present.

(5) Those who understand the way of the world recognize that there is nothing in human society which is actually new; human nature is essentially the same in every era, and the only differences are in the particulars.

To my mind, this last point is the most significant - at least, in the context of Koheles as a whole. If I had to sum up the theme of Koheles in a single sentence, it would be this: Koheles is about the futility of man's quest for yisron. The literal translation of "yisron" is "more" or "advantage" or "gain." Shlomo ha'Melech uses this as a place-holder term that refers to anything a person seeks which he believes will bring him ultimate happiness, remove his suffering, and make his life complete. When a person feels, "All I need is __________ and then I'll be happy!" or "If only I had _________ then all of my problems would be solved!" - that "blank" is yisron. 

Though it may be easy to see through the yisron fantasy in the abstract, the satan is in the details. The yisron fantasy takes on an infinite variety of forms - all of them seductive and insidious. That is why the vast majority of Koheles is devoted to "debunking" a wide variety of common yisron-fantasies. By walking us through many examples of different flavors of yisron, Shlomo ha'Melech hopes we will learn how to spot a yisron-fantasy before we become ensnared by it.

The yisron in our pasuk is especially sneaky, since it manifests itself as a longing for something in the past, rather than as a drive to obtain something in the future. Instead of feeling, "Once I get _________ then life will be great!" the old person feels, "If only I could go back to the way things were, then life would be great!"

It would seem that the key to undoing this particular yisron is to recognize the truth that Koheles states in his introduction:

Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun. Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - this has already existed in the ages before us. As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time (Koheles 1:9-11).

Human nature is a constant, and is the source of almost all of our problems. [3] These problems might look different than the problems of past generations, but at their core, they are the same. The trick is to see past the particulars.

Thankfully, the Internet provides no shortage of humorous examples which illustrate this point, and which counteract the examples at the beginning of this post. Here's my favorite one:

One can imagine an elderly fellow attempting to defend the inherent virtue of painted portraits over selfie sticks, but the student of Koheles will see both phenomena as expressions of the same egocentric drive for self-glorification and immortality. The same goes for all other expressions of human nature.

The past, the present, and the future are filled with the same problems. There is nothing new under the sun.

[1] Rav Avraham Farissol, Commentary on Megilas Koheles 7:10
[2] The underlined portion reflects my best attempt at understanding the author's intent. I found his switching between 2nd and 3rd person to be rather confusing.
[3] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Guide for the Perplexed 3:11-12 for an extensive treatment of this topic.

On Aging: With (and Without) Torah

Originally posted in May, 2009

Artwork: Touch of the Eternal, by Christopher Moeller

On Aging: With (and Without) Torah

In the 10th derashah (sermon) of Derashos ha'Ran, the Ran cites a mishnah in Kinnim 3:6:

Rebbi Shimon ben Akashya says: Elderly unlearned men, as long as they continue to age, their daas become even more agitated (mitarefes), as it is stated: "He removes the speech of the capable and takes away the reasoning of the elderly" (Iyov 12:20). But Torah-elders are not like that; rather, as long as they continue to age, their daas become even more settled (misyasheves), as it is stated: "In the aged is wisdom and in length of days, understanding" (ibid. 12:12). 

There are two major questions on this mishnah: 

1. What is meant by the opposite terms "yishuv ha'daas" and "tiruf ha'daas"? The term "daas" has many meanings - what does it mean here? What are "yishuv" (settling) and "tiruf" (agitation) in relation to daas, in this context?
   
2. What is the difference between the unlearned elders and the Torah-elders? Why does the daas of an unlearned elder become more agitated as he ages, whereas the daas of a Torah elder becomes more settled? 

Here is the Ran's explanation of the mishnah: 

This does not mean that as long as the Torah-elders continue to age the more their wisdom increases, for it is possible that this won't happen. Since the intellect is dependent upon the physical faculties [e.g. senses, imagination, memory - all of which function through the brain, which is a physical organ], it is possible that when these men become exceedingly old, and these faculties weaken, the intellect will also become weakened ...

Rather, when the mishnah said, "their daas become even more settled," its meaning is as follows. In their youth, the Torah-elders gave up their addictions to the pleasures of the physical world and chose the path of the Good; therefore, as they continue to age, their daas become more settled. This means that they became more reconciled with themselves and their daas became at ease with the decision of their youth. In other words, even though they decided in their youth to abandon their addictions to the pleasures of the physical world and its excesses, it is impossible that they were not occasionally drawn to them. Even though their intellect opposed this, and prevented them from being seduced by the physical pleasures, it is impossible that they did not desire them to some degree. Therefore, their daas was not completely settled [in their youth, for they were caught between two opposing forces.

But the more they continue to age, these more these desires weaken. Their imaginative faculty sees that everything it once fantasized about in the matters of the physical world was pointless, transient, and utterly finite. At that point, it is no longer necessary for their intellect to oppose the imaginative faculty and to dissent. Therefore, their daas is settled, for they clearly see that they had chosen the Good and resolved to follow it, and everything they had forfeited in the matters of the physical world was worthless, and that there is no cause for feeling anxiety over its forfeiture.

The opposite befalls the unlearned elders. In their youth they were seduced by their addictions to the pleasures of the physical world; their daas was at ease and reconciled with this, and they didn't care about their intellect's opposition. But as they continue to age, the physical world withdraws from them and they withdraw from it. They see that everything they once desired and chose in their youth was but nothingness, vanity, and "that they only inherited falsehood" (cf. Yirmiyahu 16:19). Because of this, their daas is not settled with the decision of their youth. Nevertheless, since "they did not learn righteousness" (cf. Yishaya 26:10), and they had become habituated and sunken in their bad habits, their intellect lacks the ability to turn completely away from the path which they have taken until now. Therefore, as they continue to age, they will be caught between two paths, and "the path will not be theirs" (cf. Iyov 23:10).

This is what the Rabbis of blessed memory intended by the expression "their daas is agitated (mitarefes)," as in the expression, "a ship that is mitarefes" (Taanis 19a). This expression refers to a ship in the middle of the ocean with oppressive waves thrusting the ship from one side to the other, and its sailors are unable to guide it on a single path; instead, the wind pushes, sometimes to one side and sometimes to the opposite. Likewise are those who are seduced by their addictions to the physical pleasures of this world, as they continue to age: for in their youth their daas was settled, but in their old age, their daas is agitated. 

We can now answer both of our questions. According to the Ran, yishuv ha'daas means "peaceful state of mind." Daas, in this context, does not refer to the intellect - which the Ran repeatedly calls "seichel."  Rather, "daas" refers to what we commonly refer to as one's "state of mind." Yishuv ha'daas is a state of mind in which one feels at ease, due to the absence of conflict between one's intellect and one's inner psychological forces. Likewise, tiruf ha'daas means "troubled state of mind." As the Ran explains, the expression "tiruf" refers to a state of being pushed and pulled between two opposing forces. Tiruf ha'daas is a conflicted state of mind in which one feels agitated, frustrated, and unsettled, due to the clash between one's intellect and one's inner psychological forces.

Thus, the meaning of the mishnah is as follows: The Torah-elders, in their youth, decided to trade the life of physical and psychological pleasure for the life of chochmah. However, the draw towards physical and psychological pleasure was still present and continued to generate conflict and anxiety, leaving them in a state of partial tiruf ha'daas. But as they become older, and their instinctual forces weaken, their intellect - which they had nourished since youth - sees that they chose correctly, and that everything they gave up was nothingness and vanity. Thus, in their old age, they will no longer be in a state of conflict. They will have achieved yishuv ha'daas; their minds will be at ease. Thus, they will now be free to invest all of their energy into the inherently pleasurable pursuit of chochmah, and their wisdom and understanding will increase.

The unlearned elders, on the other hand, chose to embrace their addictions of the life of pleasure in their youth. The Ran states that they were able to achieve a great measure of yishuv ha'daas in their youth by ignoring the dissenting voice of their intellect, but this yishuv ha'daas was destined to be short-lived. As they age, they too realize that the life of pleasure was vain and futile, and that they should have spent their life in pursuit of something lasting and permanent - but by the time they reach old age, it is too late for them. They will spend their final years in a state of tiruf ha'daas, torn between their insatiable longing for the now unattainable pleasures of their youth, and the opposite longing for something real and lasting (i.e. chochmah), which they are also unable to attain.