Rav Chaim Lifshitz

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BIOLOGICAL CYCLE VERSUS TORAH CYCLE

Rabbi Ze'ev Chaim Lifshitz

Translated from Hebrew by Dr. Sara Nathan

l'ilui nishmat Esther bat mordechai

l'ilui nishmat Meyer Hirsh ben Laibel
   

    “How is it that you are living so long?” a scientist who was well into his nineties was once asked. “I picked the right parents,” was the curt reply.

    When certain sages of the Talmud were asked a similar question, each answered by referring to a unique character trait he had labored over, or a specific mitzvah of the Torah, in the fulfillment of which he had been exceptionally stringent and unstinting. From their responses it becomes clear that the Jewish life expectancy does not parallel the biological life expectancy.
      When the Chafetz Chaim was asked about a potential bridegroom who had a history of illness, by a prospective father-in-law who feared his daughter’s becoming a young widow were he to accept the young man as his son-in-law, he replied that one who was ill was not necessarily doomed to a short lifespan. The sickly bridegroom actually attained considerable longevity, passing away at a ripe old age through “God’s own kiss,” his head bent over the Talmud he had been studying, having a moment earlier asked his rebbetzin if he might have a quick cup of coffee before running off to give his regular lecture at the yeshiva. The elder of elders among yeshiva deans, this was the great and gifted Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer of blessed memory, in whose lap I was raised, and with whom I spent many years of my youth – I do not recall him as being bedridden.
      In our own time as well, we know of certain giants of Torah scholarship whose extreme longevity is widely known. Now well into their nineties, the vitality and vigor of their leadership does not wane, while their mental alertness is of a perfection that surpasses perfection. Signs that their Torah learning is slowing – are nowhere in sight. The weight of the biological burden does not bear down on them more heavily with every passing year. Regularity of Torah study is the most blatant feature of their behavior – biological process seems to have skipped over them.
      One can discover this principle in the Talmud: “ ‘And Sarah’s lifespan was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years.’ ‘G-d knows the days of the temimim, the perfect people, and their lot is forever.’ Just as they are whole and perfect, so their years are whole and perfect. When she was twenty years old, she was like a seven-year-old for beauty, and when she was one hundred years old, she was like a twenty-year-old [without] sin.” (Bereishis Raba 58).

    In Midrash HaGadol we read: “And so you find with our mother, Sarah. When she was one hundred years old, she was like a twenty-year-old for strength, and when she was twenty years old, she was like a seven-year-old for modesty and purity. And when she was twenty years old, she was like a one hundred-year-old for righteousness – to teach you that the hundred weighed like the twenty and like the seven, and the seven weighed like the twenty, and the twenty like the hundred.”
      “Abraham was old.” On this verse, the Talmud comments (Sanhedrin 103b): “Whoever would see Abraham would say, ‘There’s Isaac.’ Whoever would see Isaac, would say, ‘There’s Abraham.’ Abraham requested that G-d should mercifully grant him oldness, as it says, 'Abraham was old, getting on in years.'” From this comment in Sanhedrin it may be learned that hoary, aged characteristics had not been visible in elderly people until that time, and that their appearance had originally resembled that of young people. That is to say, biological process did not affect them.
      People commonly respond to this phenoenon that is so widely noted in the Talmud, by agreeing that yes, perhaps it was so in the ancient era, but not in our own days. Yet this is not the case. In our own days as well, and throughout all of history, there have been Torah giants to whom the biological cycle or biological processes did not apply. Where does the secret lie?
      There is another important distinction we must point to that addresses a related phenomenon: A Jewish community living for many generations among and surrounded by people of other cultures will not absorb the character of the surrounding cultures so long as the Jewish community exists within its own protective bubble of Torah and mitzvahs. The moment the Jewish group begins to abandon this protective bubble – to leave the exclusive preoccupation with Torah and mitzvahs – one can immediately discern the indicators of the surrounding culture within the Jewish community. This is what befell the later Spanish Diaspora and the Ashkenazic communities. In contrast, the Jews of Lithuania who lived in the protective bubble of a life of Torah and mitzvahs, produced world-class Torah giants out of their midst over the course of many generations and were separated from the cultural life created by the environment to the point of ignoring even the language of the land in which they lived. Rare indeed were the Torah scholars who were proficient in the local language. (See Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg’s Sridei Eish, part four, where he discusses this phenomenon as problematic because of the practical limitations it created.) According to what has been said above, it would appear that this practice was followed on principle, in order to distance Jewish society from the danger of assimilation into non-Jewish society, and this had the effect of intensifying their involvement in Torah.
      Yet this was not the case during the early period of the enlightened Spanish Diaspora, which during the Middle Ages raised world-class Torah giants of such stature that one may safely say that were it not for them, Torah culture would not have continued into our own day. Though this flourishing was due in no small measure to anti-Semitism, still it certainly was not the whole cause. Something caused the Jews to enclose themselves within their own reality and to develop their own unique culture.
      What is the segulah, the uniquely characteristic feature of Torah that enables it to overcome biological and cultural processes so effectively ? It would seem that this fact should be ascribed to the nature of total involvement in Torah and mitzvahs, for such involvement is capable of encompassing the entire life of the person so involved. Even the face becomes transformed, thanks to a way of life, and forms, and types of foods, and daily practices that penetrate deep into the details of existence: Kosher food; family purity; stringency as to cleanliness and scheduling, both daily and weekly; rising early to the study hall; taking care to avoid delay in reciting the shema; prayer in its proper time, and a family life anchored in principles of sanctity and wholesome interpersonal relationships. Furthermore and chiefly important: A structure – unique in proportions and in purity – of harmonious family life founded upon a degree of chesed, altruism and devotion that has no equal on this planet. All of these contribute to a harmonious structure of eternal life.
      Isaac brings Rebecca into his mother Sarah’s tent, in order to discern her character, her level of righteousness her midot, personality traits and tendencies: Would her management of home economy and family life be based solely upon devotion? Only when it had become evident to him that Rebbeca did indeed cherish those same principles that had characterized his mother Sarah – only then did he become convinced and only then did he love her as he had loved his mother, that tsadeket who had been perfect in both her awe of Heaven and in her goodness of midot – good character traits that were not separate from, that did not exist independently of the devotion that derives from awe of Heaven.
      In the Torah perspective on life, no separation exists between the life of the spirit and the life of the body; the two are inextricably interwoven. “A man’s spirit will sustain his sickness, and who can bear a crippled spirit?” With this statement in the Book of Proverbs, the wisest of men hammers immutable nails into the principle of physical matter’s dependency upon the spirit. That is to say thay the life of the body does not stand on its own. It is dependent on and supported by the life of the spirit, which is the essential life and which even leads and determines the life of the body, rather than vice versa.
      The life of the spirit is not dependent on the life of the body. According to this principle, we may better understand the following rule brought in the Talmud: “Everything depends on mazal, except for common colds and minor ailments.” This means that only health’s minor pitfalls such as headaches, catching cold or the like are dependent on one’s hishtadlut, on the amount of effort one invests in maintaining one's health, but this is not the case with the serious, life-threatening illnesses. These come upon one as a decree from Heaven and are independent of human efforts.
      Neverthless, everyone accepts the fact that one has an obligation of hishtadlut, the obligation to invest effort, based on the verse that commands Jews to exercise maximum caution in health matters, which derives from the Torah imperative of pikuach nefesh, saving human life. This imperative seems to encompass the entire spectrum of health matters that may have bearing upon one’s life expectancy. We see from this that the requirement of hishtadlut stands on its own and is separate from life expectancy, which belongs to a different chapter, to another dimension of human existence.
      It should be pointed out that for the average human being who is not of the people of Israel, life expectancy is closely dependent upon the measure of hishtadlut, upon the consistent, logical application of the rules of medical research, yet such is not the case with the Jew, who is dependent mainly on the life of the spirit and on the level of his midot. This dependency is not simply one of the conditions of physical matter. Rather, it is a dependency that embraces heaven and earth, extending so far as to render ambiguous the obligation of hishtadlut for improving bodily conditions, whereas this obligation is absolutely decisive for anyone who is not of the nation of Israel.
      What is true of health issues is true of all other issues as well. What of marriage for example? The question that should properly be asked is why Eliezer, Abraham's servant, found it necessary to hang the entire outcome of his matchmaking mission upon specific signs of behavior that depended upon an absolutely perfect level of chesed? Why did he not rely upon his master Abraham and do as he had been commanded, to inquire directly of Abraham’s family? “For to my land and to my family you shall go.” It was premature at this stage to investigate: “If it should come to pass that the girl will say, 'drink, sir, and I will also water your camels, then I will know that she is the one…” At this early stage such indicators would seem (from a superficial perspective) to be superfluous. Had he gone searching for the right girl for his master’s son by directly approaching Betuel’s family, would he not have encountered Rebbeca?
      However, the servant knew that he was required to exert himself; he was required to invest in the exertions of hishtadlut in order to encounter his mazal. This is why the Talmud states: “Our forefathers’ servants’ casual conversation is more beautiful than their children’s Torah discourse,” because from the servants of our forefathers you learn not only the important details, but the rules and principles that guide basic Jewish perception: If it is siyata dishmaya, Heavenly assistance that you desire, then hasten and see to it that you are first to take the initiative. Only thus will you merit siyata dishmaya.
      This would seem to indicate that hishtadlut does not actually deal with the details of physical matter at all. Rather, it is indicated by taking the initiative. In the merit of this initiative that you have taken, you will be privileged to receive true and direct assistance from Heaven. If you despise your own initiative, this indifference to your own need to take the initiative does not indicate an extreme and even excessive bitachon in Hashem – that your faith in Heaven is so great that you do not need to act, for you trust in God.  Rather it indicates laziness and lack of interest.
    “Your shoe did not wear out on you these forty years” [of wandering in the desert, says Moses to the people of Israel, in order to persuade them of God's lovingkindness to them] not because of an unusually strong sole, but because of the inextricable bond and the absolute dependency of the physical condition upon the spiritual condition. Thus the Talmud recommends: “Make your will His will, so that He will make His will your will.” When Abraham's servant realized that it was the will of his master that he find a woman of high quality, he was required to exert himself and to invest effort over and above that required by his duty, and only after such hishtadlut could he first begin the search for a woman who was related to Abraham’s family.
      These principles remain true to this day. The search for the compatible woman is directed toward a compatible family, yet this alone is not sufficient. “A man may not marry a woman until he has seen her.” Read that as – until he has investigated her personal virtues, before he investigates the virtue of her family origins. Personal yichus, pedigree, precedes family yichus, as indeed it should. From here we derive an additional rule, which teaches that one must not despise the matter of family yichus. There is no question that this is a weighty manner. However, one must first investigate as to whether personal yichus exists in a particular candidate, before one investigates family yichus. Still, this principle should not persuade us to erroneously draw the conclusion that if a conflict exists between personal yichus and family yichus, one may ignore family yichus entirely. This is not true. Family background is of considerable importance as well, as the verse says, “Each kind to its own kind.”

Birthday

    Every kindergarten graduate knows what a birthday is: A celebration, birthday songs, a bouquet of flowers and most importantly, presents. Generally speaking, every mortal experiences such a private celebration once a year, identical in every way to the private celebration experienced by his friend across the street. At least once a year, everyone deserves some attention. Not that it would be a bad thing to get a little attention on the other days of the year, at least from parents and teachers. Where does this peculiar practice derive, of making birthdays?
      In the Torah only one birthday is mentioned, “the birthday of Pharoah” in connection with Joseph the Just. That king, as we know, was not of the children of Jacob. It is for this reason that he asks Jacob, who appears to him extremely old: “How many are the days of the years of your life?” Jacob does not suffice with merely presenting the number of his years, but instead goes on to describe their content. “Few and bad have been the days of the years of my life.” “They have not reached to the days of the years of my fathers’ lives during the days of their dwelling.” This is to teach us that the number of years without the story of their content tells you nothing at all. The content is what is important.
      Birthdays do not derive from a Jewish source for a fundamental reason, of which we glimpse only the tip of the iceberg in this dialogue between Jacob and Pharoah. The Torah is attempting to convey a message, to teach us that the Jewish way of life is indicated by permanence. It is not symbolized by the fluid process of passing time. Rather, the past stands on its own, and the future stands on its own. The future is not determined by the past, as its continuity, and as its inevitable process. Rather both of them, both past and future are determined individually as separate units, according to the value-driven principles found within them.
      It is these alone that determine their value. Time that passes as the result of an autonomous process has no value and is not worth counting. It is only out of the value that exists within the times that anything worth counting can emerge, such as the Shmita, the seventh agricultural year, in which the land is required to rest and lie fallow, or Yovel, the Jubilee, which is bound to many commandments, or any of the other way-stations of time affixed by the Talmud, such as “At eighteen years old, [one is ready] for the wedding canopy,” etc.