I rise to the defense of that vast army of octogenarians who are vigorous, energetic, alert, and robust

Old age has been getting a bad rap lately. Age 81 does not necessarily indicate a decline in mental acuity, in the ability to think and analyze.

It doesn’t have to mean verbal flubs, wandering off topic, inability to comprehend what is being said. I know many 81-year-olds who are as sharp today as much younger people. Old age need not mean senility. But thanks to President Biden, this is what age 81 has come to represent, and will become an integral part of his legacy.

And so  — quite apart from politics  — I rise to the defense of that vast army of octogenarians who are vigorous, energetic, alert, and robust.

Again, all this has nothing to do with the tempest swirling around President Biden and his obviously diminished capacities — although I do bemoan the fact that in a nation of over 300 million, America cannot produce presidential candidates who can inspire confidence — which in itself is an indictment of our system where mega-donors buy candidates as if they were berries to be plucked from a bush, and policies are crafted according to the wishes of the highest bidders. But all that is for another day.

For now, however, a quick question: How does classical Judaism view old age? Quick answer: It is viewed with great respect and reverence. It is all summed up in that famous dictum in Vayikra 19:32, “Mipnei seivah takum — Rise up before the elderly,” in which respect for the elderly is equated with reverence for G-d Himself. Our tradition is replete with dozens of tributes to old age: Wisdom increases with age, as does wise counsel, as does righteousness (Shabbos 152, Shabbos 87b, and many other such sources). Old age, even with its built-in physical limitations, is a banner indicating that the bearer has weathered the storms of life, has gained perspective, learned patience, arrived at some understanding of the self and of others. And note that the Psalmist in 90:10 and Talmud Gittin 28a refer to those who reach shemonim shanah —80 years — as emblems of strength, gevuros: “…v’im bigevuros shemonim shanah….” 

That the age of 80 is not the end but a new kind of beginning is demonstrated by the unusually long lifespans and intellectual vigor of some of the leading poskim and halachic decisors of our times. Rav Elyashiv, the universally acknowledged posek, lived to be 102; Rav Shach, head of Ponevezh Yeshiva and visionary architect of much of chareidi life, was 101; world famous posek Rav Moshe Feinstein was 90; Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, renowned expert on medicine and halachah, was 84. Their cognitive abilities and comprehension of the intricacies of Jewish law far surpassed those of half their age. Yes, these are unusual exemplars of aging with vigor and power, but they also demonstrate that being 80-plus and radical loss of mental acuity are not necessarily synonymous.

Nevertheless, the hue and cry about President Biden’s cognitive situation was justified, because he was clearly not able to deal with one of the world’s most demanding jobs. Furthermore, there is the rarely mentioned element of the deliberate, multiyear coverup of his developing infirmity by his family, staff, and media lapdogs, the kind of coverup that might have endangered the country.

But necessary as it is, the focus on cognitive impairment should not become a depressing caricature of those who, with the help of G-d, have made it to 80 — particularly in a world in which youth is worshiped, and in which old age is viewed as a kind of disease to be concealed and papered over at all costs.

Octogenarian is not a dirty word, but a badge of honor and a blessing. All you pre-octogenarians: Mipnei seivah takum — rise up before us elderly. Someday, with G-d’s help, others will rise up for you.

As the saying goes, You should live so long.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1024)