One of the most moving speeches I have ever heard was a Kol Nidrei appeal of Sherry Miller, a past president of Congregation Eilat. She spoke lovingly of her childhood memories of her Bubbe and Zayde, and of the many beautiful Shabbat meals she enjoyed with them in her youth.
She recalled helping her Bubbe set out the shining candlesticks and the white candles for the Sabbath, and she spoke of napping with her Zayde on Friday afternoon and then watching him pour the glistening red wine into the sparkling kiddush cup as he prepared to intone the blessings that would commence their weekly, sacred celebration.
As my eyes (and those of other congregants too) filled with tears at the force of her emotions and the beauty of her memories, she then asked us who would make the Jewish memories for our children and our grandchildren now. Who would be the elders of today, so that tomorrow our children and grandchildren might have a Judaism to transmit?
One of the great insights of historical Judaism is the recognition that a healthy Judaism requires the active involvement and leadership of its elders. Only they can transmit the life-wisdom and the depth of experience necessary to provide insight into the challenges of everyday, and only they can muster the unconditional love necessary to persuade their children and grandchildren to keep our sacred covenant alive.
No one can take the place of elders, and the degree to which they are willing to assert leadership (a leadership of love and example) and to which they are granted dignity and respect is the measure of the vitality of the Judaism of their community.
Today’s Torah portion highlights the importance of elders in a particularly dramatic fashion. Moses has just experienced the call of God, summoning him to lead the people Israel from 400 years of slavery and suffering to a new-found freedom in the service of God and the practice of mitzvot.
Thrilled and frightened by his new responsibility, Moses wastes no time in inducting his brother Aaron as his ally. And the first official action of these two leaders is that they “went and gathered together kol ziknei b’nei Yisrael, all the elders of the children of Israel.”
Moses and Aaron knew that the only way a project of such magnitude could hope to succeed — to persuade the Jewish people to put its trust in God and to work toward its own liberation — was if they could enlist the support and participation of Israel’s elders.
In Midrash Sh’mot Rabbah, Rabbi Akiva (2nd Century Israel) presents the importance of elders in a beautiful metaphor: “Why is the people Israel compared to a bird? Just as a bird can only fly with its wings, so Israel can only survive with the help of its elders.” Rabbi Akiva recognized that only when children and grandchildren grew up in the presence of adults to live their Judaism in the home would they come to transfer the love they feel for their grandparents to the heritage of their grandparents as well.
But his metaphor suggests something more. Wings are not only the bird’s indispensable mode of transportation; they are the essence of what it means to be a bird (imagine a bird without wings!) So too, elders are the essence of what it means to be Jewish (imagine Judaism without grandma and grandpa! Or without sages!)
Rabbi Akiva is telling us that if we want Judaism to survive, then we must act as though we are its elders, so that our youth see Judaism as a priority in our deeds.
Let our children and grandchildren see our eyes occupied with studying Torah, with reading a Jewish book, so that their vision will be trained for life-long learning. Let them see our hands occupied with mitzvot – building sukkot (booths), feeding the hungry, bindingtefillin, wearing tallitot (prayer shawls) and visiting the sick – so that their hands will be strengthened for the task ahead.
Let their tongues repeat our own Shabbat zemirot (songs) and in passionate debate so their voices will one day be joined in the age-old dialogue that unites the generations. And let their hearts fill with joy as we celebrate the holy days and festivals, travel with them to Israel, drive them to Jewish camps, and create Jewish memories within our own homes.
In doing those things, we make ourselves worthy elders, regardless of our age. In doing these things, we earn the tribute of themidrash: “Great is eldership, for if the elders are old they are beloved before God, and if they are young, their youth is but of secondary consequence.”