One of the causes of anxiety and depression is the sense of having left youth behind and entered old age, which carries its own announcement of what must inevitably follow.
People spend billions on diets, creams, and surgical interventions trying to slow or conceal this process.
What can we do to feel less troubled by the life that slips past us?
I want to share two tools found in this week's reading, Chayei Sarah.
The reading is called Chayei Sarah, "The Life of Sarah," even though it describes what occurred after our matriarch's death: Abraham's mourning and his negotiation to purchase a burial plot for her.
Is it not paradoxical to call a story about what happened after her death "The Life of Sarah"?
Here lies a great teaching: there is a profound difference between merely existing and truly living. "The righteous, even in death, are considered alive," say our sages, "and the wicked, even in life, are considered dead."1
For a human to be truly considered alive, it is not enough to breathe, eat, and have all biological functions running smoothly. Those are the criteria for plant and animal life. What defines human life is the positive impact one has beyond personal survival and self-interest. The greater that impact, the fuller the life. Some lives continue to make an impact long after physical death; others, while still breathing, never touch anyone beyond themselves.
When can we tell whether someone truly lived or merely existed? We often see it only after they are physically gone. Whose world is affected by their absence? Whose words and deeds still matter? In Sarah's case, her true impact became visible precisely because the values and foundations she had established in life did not end with her death. Quite the opposite. Only then could one see that Sarah had not merely existed for 127 years; she had lived them, infusing them with a vitality that transcended her physical presence.
How does one live in such a way that it endures?
The Torah gives us the recipe when it describes the old age of Sarah's husband, Abraham: "Abraham was old, advanced in days …"2
Our sages note that the expression ba bayamim — "advanced in days" — can also be read as "came with his days." That is, when Abraham reached the age of 175, he could account for every single day of his life and show its positive contribution. Not one day was wasted, not one day was lived without purpose. Abraham was not simply old; he was, in the finest sense, aged, like a fine wine that only improves with time.
Have you ever wondered why people celebrate birthdays? What is the point of celebrating the passage of time, when each year lived means one less year remaining?
The answer is that a passing year does not necessarily mean one less. It can mean one more, depending on whether it was spent or invested. If you spend your life focused only on what you can get, then yes, each day that passes is a day less. But if you invest it, seeking and seizing every opportunity to contribute something of value to others, then each day adds to your total, leaving an ever-growing legacy.
The tool for this week: Whether your life is more than mere existence depends on you. Whether each day adds to or subtracts from your total depends on what you did with it. Wrinkles come on their own; you cannot control them. What you can control is whether they mark someone who is merely older, or someone who has truly aged well.
