In a talmudic passage made famous by a reference in the Haggadah, the eighteen-year-old Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah undergoes a sudden transformation to appear like a seventy-year-old-man—a divine intervention to give him the gravity to take on the position of head of the Sanhedrin. Today, most would see this miracle as a curse, which is a sign of a culture where the virtue of reverence for the elderly has been flipped on its head. Robert Henderson recalls an experience from his college days:
I was at a breakfast with some fellow students. Our guest was a former governor and presidential candidate. He was gracious and spent most of his time answering questions from us. His answers were often variations of the same response: “We screwed up, and it’s up to you guys to fix it. I’m so happy to see how bright you all are and how sharp your questions have been because you will fix the mistakes my generation made.” This mystified me. This guy was in his sixties, with a lifetime of unique experience in leadership roles, and he was telling a bunch of twenty-year-olds that older adults were relying on them?
Older people are now reluctant to say that they have accrued some knowledge and have some wisdom to impart. Yet young people have a massive hunger for this wisdom. . . . If older adults keep chasing validation from the young instead of reclaiming authority in their role as elders, they’ll keep getting mocked—and deservedly so. Wisdom isn’t about being stuck in the past; it’s about offering something steady and timeless in a world that feels increasingly unmoored.
More about: American society, Talmud