The tree or the insect: differing views of old age

 I love it when the Bible presents differing views of a single subject, sometimes so different they seem contradictory. These can often be solved by understanding the cultural-historical context. Other times the different views become resolved as a paradox, two apparently opposites that prove to both be true. That’s the playground of the poet.

Take old age. The Hebrew culture of the Old Testament revered the elders among them. The Patriarchs—the grandfathers of the faith—became the ground from which succeeding generations arose to build the Hebrew faith. Not that daily experience in Israelite families was all roses and respect; growing old has always been hard and families complicated. But in general, respect was the rule of the day.

Several biblical passages especially interest me. The first, from Psalm 92, I’ve taken as a theme for this blog site: “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree [I mistakenly wrote “psalm tree”]; they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon…. They will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green.” This refers to a “righteous” old person which, hopefully, describes many of us. Semi-righteous, at least. I don’t look good in the color green, but even so, I love this description and would love to grow into it.

The seeming contradiction is found in Ecclesiastes 12 where the cynical teacher recites a series of wonderfully creative metaphors describing the horrors of old age. It’s skillful and terrifying poetry. First, the sun, moon, and stars black out—blindness. Then the “keepers of the house” tremble—the trunk of the body? The skeleton? The legs? I’m not sure which body part is referenced here, but when it starts to tremble that’s bad news. “The grinders cease because they are few”—toothlessness! (False teeth help.) The songs of birds grow faint—time for hearing aids. After “the grasshopper drags itself along” for a time, the old person dies. What a dim view of the adventure of aging!

Take Your Choice
Ecclesiastes 12:1-8; Psalm 92:12-14

Who am I to believe?
The psalmist has one view of old age,
the teacher, another. Poets both.

The sweet psalmist sings for joy
and flourishes like a cherry tree in spring.
Fresh, green, productive,
ever strong and full of the Holy Spirit
right up to the end, something
to look forward to. Peaceful sleep
followed by unending bliss.
It makes one want to grow old.

The teacher, on the other hand
(why is there always another hand?),
calls the final stage of life
the days of trouble.
I find no pleasure in them,
he grumbles. Rightly so.
Blind, deaf, toothless, and full of fear,
the old lady drags herself
along the floor of the nursing home
like a grasshopper with a broken wing.
Meaningless. The teacher again
uses his favorite word.

So which is it—
the blooming tree or the injured insect?
I choose the tree
(but I have my suspicions).

These conflicting viewpoints are both true. The psalmist gives the positive picture of faith, what can happen to one who follows God all her life (although some of it may be reserved for after her death). It underscores the truth that whatever happens to us, we are surrounded and carried by the love of God. All things will work together for the best.

The teacher brings us back to reality. Faithful followers of Christ or not, old age is hard and inevitably brings with it illness, diminishment, loss, and death. It’s important that we look this reality straight in the face. Believing that Heaven is around the corner is important, but so is our situation here and now. We need courage to walk this path.

The challenge is to hold onto both a faith-filled picture of old age and an open-eyed realism. Not either/or. Both/and. That can be tricky, even when we know which side will ultimately win.

St. Paul brings together realism and faith when he writes, “Though outwardly we are wasting away (Ecclesiastes), yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day (Psalms)” (2 Corinthians 4:16).

Another Paul, French poet Paul Claudel, puts it this way: “Eighty years old… No eyes left, no teeth, no legs, no wind! And when all is said and done, how astonishingly well one does without them!”

Absolutely astonishing.

The positive power of negative thinking

 I stole the title of this blog. Over 40 years ago I found an article in a Christian magazine on the importance of critical thinking; it came with that title. (The same title has been since used in other publications.) The author was obviously playing off Normal Vincent Peale’s popular but lopsided book, The Power of Positive Thinking. I don’t remember much of the content of the article (or its author), but the title stuck and continues to temper my own thinking.

Negative thinking as a positive force is a counter-intuitive wisdom. Its purpose is to confront and balance non-critical uninformed optimism: “God’s in his heaven; all’s right with the world.” Those of us who grew up in the church were instructed to “climb climb up sunshine mountain, faces all aglow,” and to celebrate with “I’m so happy and here’s the reason why—Jesus took my burdens all away.” Actually, those songs have their place in spiritual formation; they contain truth. Just not all the truth.

There were times in my childhood when my climb up sunshine mountain was interrupted by ravines and the only glow on my face came from tears. Not so happy. Burdens that didn’t just disappear. It kept Sunday school separate from my “real” life.

The need for a healthy balance between positive and critical thinking certainly applies to aging and how our culture sees the process of growing older. Negative stereotypes abound, of course, but so do the optimistic denials of old age. Consider the label, “The Golden Years.” “The best is yet to be.” “Life begins at 70.” “I’m 80 years young!” “You’re only as young as you…. (fill in the blank).”

Consider the shaky comfort of this popular American ditty: “Darling, we are growing old,/ Silver threads among the gold/…. Yet, my darling, you will be/ Always young and fair to me.” Wayne Booth, in his fine book, The Art of Growing Older: Writers on Living and Aging, critiques this claim:

Always young and fair? Always? Of course, the speaker… surely knows very well that if he (could the song work if sung by a woman?) and his faithful love stay together, one of them will face a time when the other one is no longer even in the wildest effort of the imagination young and fair.

Perhaps Booth is a little too harsh in his criticism. Maybe some grandpas are blessed with an ability to see beauty where others can’t. When Hal tells me I’ve never looked better, if I can avoid a mirror, I almost believe him. Love affects vision.

The long-term retirement community where I live has an attractive web site, intended to inform and to attract clients. It’s publicity (among other things) so of course the “old” residents featured are all well-dressed, energetic, and very attractive. (Why wasn’t I chosen?) They are walking around our beautiful campus, holding hands, or engaged in interesting activities. They’re all real residents, my friends, but none of them will stay young and active forever. Most of our residents don’t look that way as they struggle with the various challenges (and for some, horrors) of aging. But, as I noted, publicity is publicity.

The organization just finished construction of a beautiful four-story complex where residents will live in the final stages of life. It will provide several levels of care from assisted living, to memory care, and then to 24/7 skilled care to people close to death. The rooms are large and comfortable, almost all with large windows and lovely views. We’re all happy about it (although some of us still miss the meadow and trees it replaced). Someday, if I mange to stick around, I will live there. If I’m still able to perceive my surroundings, I know I’ll appreciate a room with a view.

But there’s something funny about the name. The old health center, which we have outgrown, was known as the Charles Beals Health Center. It seemed appropriate. But we have been instructed not to call the new building a Health Center. It is Charles Beals Plaza. Apparently this portrays a more positive image. But Plaza is a name that goes better with a name like Hilton. The Hilton Plaza. Our director has jokingly told us that if we call the new facility a health center, we’ll be fined a dollar. Each time.

Even so, the place really is a health center, dedicated to the most vulnerable residents among us. It’s all about health and loving care toward the end of life and I wish the name could reflect the reality. (I have a feeling I’ll end up owing a lot of money.)

I’ve just finished reading the books of Jeremiah and Lamentations, two of the least optimistic books of the Bible. Through much of the books, the negative overshadows the positive. And with reason. It covered one of the most grim periods in the history of God’s chosen people—times of apostasy, war, captivity, deportation, famine, and death. A time when hope floated level to the ground.

In Lamentations 3, the prophet cries out to a God that he’s not sure is even listening. His complaints are serious. He throws up to the Almighty some grizzly scenarios: walking in darkness, weighed down with chains, mangling by lions, piercings by the arrows of God, and so on. Not all of this was metaphor. I found one of the curses especially troubling; the prophet accuses God by saying, “He has made my skin and flesh grow old and has broken my bones” (3:4). Old age as a curse. Scary thought.

Of course, there in the center of that same Chapter 3, the prophet thanks God for his everlasting faithfulness and great love. We take courage from these words. But then he goes right back to the anguish and laments. What this book in particular tells me is that it’s OK to name the darkness and cry out our bleak prayers, even when we can’t sense God’s presence. The Psalms are also full of this kind of brutal lament. Even Jesus cried from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?!”

Pretty negative.

I’m wrestling a bit here, trying to find a healthy balance between a positive, joyful, grateful attitude and a brave realism as I look at the coming years.

Maybe the Apostle Paul puts it best, in a unity of realism and incredible hope: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:16-17).

Sounds even better than a room with a view.