HOW OLD ARE YOU?

…according to a Talmudic analysis, the average Jew whose life-span is 70 years actually spends only about 18 years in service of G-d. When we subtract the hours of sleeping, eating and other mundane activities we are left with no more than 18 years.  However, when a Jew aligns all of his activities with G-d’s Will, even the time spent eating and sleeping are considered to be in service to G-d.

COMPLETE!

We are now in the middle of the period known as S’firas HaOmer, when we are obliged to count the days and the weeks from the second day of Passover until the Festival of Shavuos.

In this week’s parsha the Torah describes this commandment in the following manner:

“…[Y]ou should count for yourselves seven weeks. They should be complete.”

Commentators grapple with the word “complete.” What precisely makes counting seven weeks “complete?”

The Talmud, cited by Rashi, explains that it means we must begin counting in the evening; otherwise the counting of days would not be complete.

According to the classic work known as the Behag, if one missed counting the Omer on any one day, one can no longer fulfill the Mitzvah of counting the days.

The Midrash provides another answer. It asks rhetorically: “When are they complete?” And it answers: “When the [the Jewish people] perform the will of G-d.”

What does the Midrash mean by this? It is certainly true that when a person follows G-d’s will it could be said that he achieves a measure of perfection. But, how does that translate into making one’s days complete?

HOW CAN YOU BE
LIKE 70 YEARS OLD?

The following is an exposition based on the work Knesses Yechezkel, in his explanation on the well-known Mishna (quoted in the Passover Hagada):

“Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya said, ‘I am like 70 years old and I did not succeed in proving that the Exodus from Egypt should be mentioned at night…’”

What did he mean when he said “I am like 70 years old?”

The Talmud explains that, in truth, Rabbi Elazar was only 18 years old at the time. However, miraculously his beard had turned white overnight, so that he could be appointed head of the Sanhedrin. Thus, he was referring to that transformation when he said that “I am like 70 years old.” However, the question arises, if he was truly only 18 why was he so surprised that he could not convince his colleagues that his opinion was correct?

Yeshuos Yaakov answers that according to a Talmudic analysis, the average Jew whose life-span is 70 years actually spends only about 18 years in service of G-d. When we subtract the hours of sleeping, eating and other mundane activities we are left with no more than 18 years.

However, when a Jew aligns all of his activities with G-d’s Will, even the time spent eating and sleeping are considered to be in service to G-d. This idea is contained in the Talmudic statement: “All your deeds shall be for the sake of Heaven.” This suggests that when one engages in mundane activities to have the energy and wherewithal to better study Torah and perform the Mitzvos, these activities are important accessories to the service of G-d. The mere intent to engage in any activity in support of a higher cause renders it a service, even if the activity itself is not innately spiritual.

Moreover, King Solomon states in Proverbs: “Know G-d in all your ways.” This implies that one can actually know G-d through all of one’s normal activities. The physical act is not only a means to an end, it becomes the end unto itself.

Either way, a person whose entire life revolves around serving G-d—directly or indirectly—can actually realize 70 years of life in a mere 18 years.

Thus Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya exclaimed: “I am like 70 years old,” to suggest that although he was only 18 he had the spiritual accomplishments of others who have lived for 70 years. Every moment of his life—including his ordinary physical activities—was part of one continuum of service to G-d.

WHY WAS RABBI
ELAZAR PUZZLED?

The question remains, why was he puzzled when he could not convince his colleagues that we ought to mention the Exodus from Egypt each and every night of the year? What was it about his being like 70 and the argument he made for mentioning the Exodus at night?

We can clarify this with a more basic question: Why do we have to mention the Exodus every day? Why does it not suffice to mention it at the Passover Seder, the anniversary of the Exodus itself?

The answer is that the Exodus reminds us that we are G-d’s servants and no longer subservient to Pharaoh. When we say Pharaoh, of course, we mean any master, be it a monarch like Pharaoh or an ideal, movement, fad, discipline or societal convention; we are G-d’s servants exclusively.

This point is articulated clearly in Psalm 113, the first Psalm of the Hallel (psalms of praise that we recite on Passover and other Festivals, and is the Psalm that we are reciting this year daily in conjunction with the Rebbe’s 112^th birthday). “Give praise, O servants of G-d…” The Talmud stresses that this psalm underscores the reality that with the Exodus we have become servants of G-d and only of G-d.

We are thus compelled to remember daily that we are G-d’s subjects so that we devote as much of our day to His service as we can.

[Parenthetically, with this premise offered by Yeshuos Yaakov, we can understand why the obligation to remember the Exodus daily was not enumerated by Maimonides as one of the 613 commandments. It has been suggested that the reason for this omission is that Exodus remembrance is a natural extension of the Mitzvah to read the Shma daily, in which we accept G-d’s sovereignty. Remembering the Exodus is, likewise, a way of reminding ourselves of G-d’s exclusive authority and that we are exclusively His subjects. Thus, Exodus remembrance is not enumerated as an independent Mitzvah because it is actually a corollary of and incorporated in the Mitzvah to read the Shma.]

Rabbi Elazar’s colleagues were not convinced that we must mention the Exodus with its message of exclusive service to G-d each night. After all, at night we are mostly asleep and cannot consciously serve G-d by either prayer, Torah study or the performance of a Mitzvah. Why then would it be necessary to remind ourselves that we are G-d’s servants exclusively at a time when it would not seem to have any practical application?

Rabbi Elazar had a rejoinder to this argument based on his own situation and approach to G-d’s service. The fact that his 18 years of life were the equivalent of another man’s 70 indicates that it is possible for a person to transform even the time that he is asleep into a service to G-d. Rabbi Elazar was therefore convinced that there is no time when the message of the Exodus is not relevant. One must therefore mention the Exodus both day and night.

COUNTING YOUR DAYS, OR MAKING YOUR DAYS COUNT?

All of the above can be applied to the counting of the Omer that spans the seven weeks between the festivals of Pesach and Shavuos. These seven weeks are said to symbolize the 70 years of human life.

We can now understand the import of the Midrashic statement that these days are “complete” when we conform to G-d’s will. When we devote all of our activities, even our mundane activities, to serving G-d, our time in service to G-d is no longer whittled down to 18 years. Our 70, 80, 120 or more years become “complete” because every day and every moment of our lives is an integral part of serving G-d. With Rabbi Elazar’s approach, every moment of our lives are filled with meaning and G-dly wholesomeness.

WHY DID THE
SAGES DISAGREE?

At this point one may wonder why did Rabbi Elazar’s colleagues continue to disagree with his contention that we must mention the Exodus every night? Shouldn’t one follow Rabbi Elazar’s example of serving G-d in all your ways, even during sleep?

The answer, perhaps, lies in the rejoinder mentioned in the aforementioned Mishna: Rabbi Elazar’s colleagues argued that the Biblical phrase “you must remember the day you departed from Egypt all the days of your life” implies that one must mention the Exodus from Egypt even in the future Messianic Age. Perhaps, this was meant to suggest that while Rabbi Elazar’s singular devotion to G-d—even at night—may be appropriate and manageable for him, it is a standard which cannot be imposed on most other people. Obligations must be applied across the board, so one cannot be compelled to follow the more rigorous standard of Rabbi Elazar and mention the Exodus every night. For the majority of people, argued Rabbi Elazar’s colleagues, it suffices to remember the Exodus every day with the hope that the inspiration could last even through the night.

Rabbi Elazar’s colleagues therefore argue that if the Torah does require total devotion to G-d—day and night—it must be referring to the Messianic Age when everybody will be at the level of Rabbi Elazar. At that time every aspect of our lives will be permeated with a realization of G-d, and we will all be able to fulfill the Mitzvah of remembering the Exodus even at night when we are asleep.

Nevertheless, the final decision in this dispute is that even today we must mention the Exodus at night. In these last moments of exile we are capable of emulating Rabbi Elazar’s approach of serving G-d for the sake of Heaven, and even more—we can serve G-d in all of our ways! In doing so we thus become eminently ready and worthy of Moshiach and the imminent Redemption!