Have you heard of Bryan Johnson? He’s the guy who wants to live forever. Or at least try. In his own words, “We are at war with death and its causes.” He posits that ours could be the first generation that doesn’t die. He claims to be the most monitored person in human history.
Some of his strict protocols include: taking over 100 pills and supplements a day, participating in experimental plasma exchanges with his son, and wearing a cap that emits red light into his head. He eats dinner at 11:30 AM and sleeps at 8:30 PM. He considers eating a cookie an “act of violence.” Oy.
I wonder what he would think of our Oneg?
He’s an extreme example of the new American obsession over longevity or what’s called “healthspan.” Doctors like Peter Attia and Andrew Huberman have based entire careers on sharing tips on how to live longer and stronger. Many of these tips — sunlight, movement, sleep, nutrition, intellectual stimulation — are just common sense and worth doing. Heck, they’re things I knew well before I’d ever heard of these guys. I take a few supplements, track my sleep, do weight-bearing workouts as well as cardio, and try to get direct sunlight as much as I can. No one wants to see their precious years cut short unnecessarily. Best health practices are important even if there are no guarantees.
But despite all this advice on how to live longer, one question that they never seem to answer is “Why?” Why live longer? What’s the point of stretching ourselves to 120 years or more if those days are empty, lonely, or meaningless?
I wanted to share a little tonight about what Judaism has to say about living a long, rich life. First, it must be said that reverence for elders and their wisdom is a deeply held value in Judaism. In Deuteronomy we read, “Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders and they shall instruct you.” In Job we learn, “For wisdom is with the old, and understanding with length of days.” We are commanded in Leviticus 32:19, “You shall rise before the aged and grant hiddur to the elder; you shall fear your God: I am the Eternal.”
This text is emblazoned on placards on every public bus in Israel to encourage riders to give up seats to seniors. The first part of the verse is clear, we rise out of respect. The second part, hiddur, is hard to translate. Poet Danny Siegel suggests this, “You shall rise before an elder and allow the beauty, glory, and majesty of their faces to emerge.” This interpretation is about creating a context where the hidden light and beauty of seniors can be shared and received by others. There is empowerment. There is engagement. There is meaning.
The Talmud in Megillah 27b fills an entire page with various rabbis’ accounts of why they were found worthy to live long lives. Hint, it wasn’t through supplements or plasma transfusions. An example is given by Rab Addah bar Ahaba. He was a famous scholar who lived in Babylonian in the third or fourth centuries.
I have never displayed any impatience in my house, and I have never walked in front of any man greater than myself, nor have I ever meditated (over the words of Torah) in any dirty alleys, nor have I ever walked four cubits without (musing over) the Torah or without (wearing) tefillin, nor have I ever fallen asleep in the House of Study for any length of time or even momentarily, nor have I rejoiced at the disgrace of my friends, nor have I ever called my neighbor by a nickname given to him by myself, or some say, by the nickname given to him by others. (BT Taanit 20b).
So now you know — don’t sleep through Yom Kippur! Notice the throughline: deep Torah learning combined with kavod, respect. We are commanded to continue our study, honor all those around us, and transform our lives even up to the very last day. The Midrash teaches us, “A man may act wickedly in his youth, yet in his old age he may perform good deeds.” Who we were does not have to be who we are. Living longer does not mean growing stagnant or stale.
There are many ways to renew ourselves and find meaning. Some write a book of their life or record their history for family members. Many right here in our temple devote countless hours to good deeds, helping and caring for those less fortunate. For some, Torah study or Friday Night services are a fixed part of their week.
Two Jewish strategies for adding life to our years as well as years to our life are found in the book, “Sacred Jewish Aging” by Rabbi Dayle Freidman. In addition to being life-long Torah students, Rabbi Friedman posits that all of us need to be mentors and guides for the next generation. Sharing our wisdom is a reason for extending our days.
Equinox Gym in New York charges something like $40,000 a year for an anti-aging program. But one of the biggest, science-backed hacks isn’t a cold plunge or fasting — it’s a mindset.
According to research from Yale psychologist and author Becca Levy, just changing your attitude toward aging can, on average, add seven and a half years to your life. She went to Japan to study their legendarily long lifespans. When she returned, she ran a study looking at a survey of a small Ohio town. 660 older residents responded to the survey about their attitudes toward aging. Those who viewed getting older more positively lived an average of 7.5 years longer than expected, even controlling for other factors like overall health and socioeconomic status. That’s a bigger jump in expected lifespan than some much more well-known health interventions.
A famous maise of the ssar rabbi, Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (1810-1883).
Reb Yisrael was spending the night at a shoemaker’s home. Late at night, Reb Yisrael saw the man still working by the light of a flickering, almost extinguished candle.
Rabbi Salanter went to the man and said: ‘Look how late it is; your candle is about to go out. Why are you still working?’
Undeterred, the shoemaker replied, ‘As long as the candle is burning, there is still time to repair.’
For many days afterwards, Rabbi Salanter could be heard repeating the shoemaker’s words over and over again: ‘As long as the candle is burning — as long as I am still alive — there is still time to repair”.
As long as our candle is burning, we can repair relationships.
As long as our candle is burning, we can change harmful habits.
As long as our candle is burning, we can learn Torah.
And as long as our candle is burning, we can still try to do all the things we thought we couldn’t do.
So keep your $40,000, your plasma transfusions, your red light helmets, and cold plunges. True longevity is found in our hearts, in our souls, and in who we believe we can still yet be.