On Sept. 4, I turned 75. I am happy to have reached this
stage in my life. In turn, I am trying to figure out its meaning for me and my
family.
According to a rabbinic text, at the age of 60 one becomes
old (le-ziknah), and at 70, one becomes really old: “at seventy,
grey hairs (le-sevah)” (Pirke Avot 5: 25). In fact, in the Bible, King David died “at a
good old age” (besevah tovah) ( I Chr. 29: 28), which according to II Sam
5:4 meant seventy. In those days, people did not live long. Because of
better medical care, things are thankfully different now. People often live
into their 90’s. My father died at the age of 97; my mother at 90. In my case, at
75, I do not feel old. Though retired from the congregational rabbinate, I still
travel, teach, write and am active with my family and in my community. However,
I do feel the necessity to rethink my priorities. And here is what I have come up
with:
Recently I was complaining
to someone I know that, with age, I was starting to have some physical issues,
such as vision problems or lack of energy, until she stopped me right in my
tracks and reminded me that “getting older is a privilege that many people do
not have.” I quickly understood what she meant because she had lost her husband
at a young age, and who was I to complain that I was getting older! This
realization humbled me and gave me a better perspective on my life.
I now feel this is the time
to take an inventory of my life, and review my priorities, and even share them
with my loved ones so that they may learn from my experiences. That is why I am
redoing my memoirs and will make them available to my children and especially
my grandchildren. I have also tweaked my
ethical will, which identifies the core values of my life.
Being a retired
professional enables me now to do things that I never had a chance to do in the
past. So, I volunteer my services to others who need my help. This past year, for example, because I can
also speak Spanish, I taught Judaic subjects through Skype to Reform Jews in
Spain, conducted religious services in Barcelona and Puerto Rico, visited Turkey and
continued to teach at Boston College on a part-time basis.
What of the future?
I do not know what the next few years will bring. I am inspired by a story I
once read-- most likely an urban myth-- that during a concert the famous
violinist Yitzhak Perlman broke one or two strings in his violin but was able
to finish the piece by using the rest of them. When they asked him how he did
it, he responded, “Sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music
you can still make with what you have left.”
I plan to make this my mantra: to
be grateful for what I have and am, to enjoy every day with my wife and family,
to contribute to society to the extent of my ability, and to leave behind a good
name so that it may be mentioned with pride and blessing.
Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D.
Sept. 2013
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