I have never met anyone who would like to live his or her live over again with the same repetition of experiences—a perpetual “Groundhog Life” repeated ad infinitum ad nauseum. At times, I’ve wished I could live my life over again knowing what I know now. I would make fewer mistakes, hurt fewer people, be more humble and less serious, love and rejoice more, worry less, and be more courageous about embracing my true self. But we cannot relive our lives. Each individual life is a one-time event never to be repeated.
As we age, we become more aware of the transience of time. We live on that razor-thin edge between the past that is gone and the future which is not yet. Psychologists tell us that depression has to do with guilt from the past while anxiety has to do with a fear of the future. Too many people endure lives suspended between the guilt of the past and the anticipated shock of the future. The Eternal Present of poets, mystics, and philosophers is a stranger to most of us.
How can we, mere specks on the tapestry of time and space which stretches over billions of years and trillions of miles, possibly matter in the vast history of the cosmos?
Disconnected from the natural world, we post-moderns are haunted by the existential fear that we are all alone in a cold and indifferent universe. How can we, mere specks on the tapestry of time and space which stretches over billions of years and trillions of miles, possibly matter in the vast history of the cosmos? Scientists tell us that even after almost 14 billion years, the universe is still in its adolescence. There are many billions of years left in the future, and we are but one species of beings in an unfathomably large universe (possibly many universes). Time will sweep into oblivion the whole earth, solar system, and Milky Way Galaxy of which we are but a very recent, infinitesimal part. We suffer from what the Jewish philosopher Abraham Joshua Heschel called “the fear of time…. Time is the only aspect of existence which is completely beyond man’s control.” Heschel spoke these words while addressing a White House Conference on Aging in 1961. Franklin Sherman in commenting on this speech wrote the following:
Yet it is precisely here, Hershel asserts, that God confronts us: in the occasions, the decisions, and the events of time. It is here where the issue between meaning and meaninglessness is joined. Fulfillment can be found only by going out to meet God, who is the source of meaning, where he seeks to meet us—in the continuum of time. This means, on society’s part, planning for significant involvement rather than isolation of the elderly. And it means, on the part of the individual, a frank acceptance of the aging process, and a lifelong preparation for opportunities which leisure brings for the enrichment of one’s inner being. In truth, as Heschel observes, the years of old age may be regarded as “formative years, rich in possibilities to unlearn the follies of a lifetime.” (The Promise of Heschel, p. 14)
I find uncommon hope and inspiration in Heschel’s words.
As we age, we have two choices: accept the life we have lived (and are still living) or sink both into depression and guilt over what never was (but might have been) and/or into the fear of oblivion. We can look back over our lives recognizing the joys and sorrows, the “successes and failures,” the courage and cowardice, the love and apathy, the goodness and evil we have been and done–all of which defined our time on this planet. Each life contains a detailed story which can have meaning if we dare look for it. We can learn from our “follies.” We can forgive others and take that most difficult step of forgiving ourselves. Only forgiveness can emancipate us and those who have wronged us so that life can begin again. We can gain a wisdom which only comes after travelling the hard road of experience. We can find purpose in our last years of existence. We can even become Elders in a society which has lost the plot of being human beings created in the image of God. Erik Erickson, writing about the stages of life, said that only as those in the last stage of life choose integrity over despair will future generations in the first stage of life find the courage to choose trust over mistrust. As Elders who bear the scars and joys of experience, we could gift the future with a rich legacy.
Heschel described these later years as “formative.” That word usually refers to the years of childhood when children are “formed” by their environments and choices. However, senior years can also be formative—formative for us as we “unlearn” what has not been helpful or fulfilling and embrace what can heal and give joy. It can also be formative for those who can benefit from our hard-earned wisdom. On the Cherokee Reservation in North Carolina, Indigenous children and youth are being reconnected with their Indigenous roots. Elders are teaching these kids the Cherokee language and culture. Those fluent in Cherokee today are the very old and the very young who have been taught by those Elders who never forgot their language and heritage. Through these cultural experiences, a new generation is recovering its identity and discovering the story in which they belong. What is happening in Cherokee, NC can happen in our own society as we who are older embrace the role of Elder and help a rootless society find its way home.
Of course, the wisdom we offer will depend on the wisdom we have attained and by which we have lived. I am under no illusion that my generation as a whole will serve as helpful Elders for future generations. Our foibles have been numerous and, in too many cases, deliberate. However, we can unlearn, forgive others and ourselves, and become open to a radical Truth and Goodness which would bring excitement and adventure to our autumn and winter years and possibly inspire the next generations with a wisdom which is holistic, healing, and compassionate. With the Living God and those who are in relationship with that God, there is no such thing as retirement. A God who chose a man “good as dead” (Abraham) and a woman way past menopause (Sarah) to begin Her history of salvation can certainly use our old bodies, bones, and souls for something bigger and greater than we have ever imagined. God is not done with any of us unless we choose to be done with ourselves. And even then, I trust that God’s stubborn and patient love can resurrect our wills from our inertia, despair, and indifference. I’m hopelessly hopeful for this creation and humanity. I simply can’t help it because, along with the Apostle Paul, I trust that “love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” (I Corinthians 13:7-8)
