As a fledgling pastor in my early 20s I coveted ways to deal with awkward attempts to imbibe the advice to Timothy: “Let no one despise your youth . . .” (1 Tim 4:12). At age 76 I join multitudes in asking our youth culture to flip the page and read this admonition to the young Timothy: “Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching” (1 Tim 5:17). To be honest, however, it is the genial aged saints who promote stereotypes of the journey of aging. For example we confess senior moments when we forget where we put something five minutes ago or when we struggle in remembering a name from the thousands we have stuck in our heads throughout our pilgrimage. We fail to recognize that some such senior moments are often extensions of behavior of a lifetime.
One satisfying thought remains from hundreds of gems on aging I vaguely absorbed at the National Older Adult Conference. A wonderful speaker whose name I have forgotten offered a better definition of a senior moment. She or he defined it as the moment when a chronologically mature person utters a statement of wisdom acquired from a lifetime of rich experiences and memories. Another speaker, named Marva Dawn, combed our egos in stressing that our generation possesses much wisdom to pass on to the next generation.
Back in the college community, I tried to do this. I was asked to speak to a class about the war on terrorism. I am appalled in discerning the lack of historical knowledge by the America public. For months our nation has reacted to a truly terrible bombing as if we had never done anything wrong. Many of us who have been around longer are aware that we have bombed other nations many times, in fact 22 times since World War II. I remember how sad and angry I felt when we killed between 3,000 to 4,000 innocent civilians in little Panama to capture a “bad” ruler. I realize how our public sermons against having weapons of mass destruction do not sell around the world; for we still maintain thousands of nuclear weapons. And we are the only nation in the world that has killed hundreds of thousands of civilians in employing all three mass destruction systems, namely, biological, chemical, and nuclear.
So I flaunted my wisdom by asking how many in the class were from New Jersey. Several raised their hands. I then asked, “Do you know why folk in Beirut, Lebanon, hate New Jersey?” No one responded except with smiles. Then I picked on the young man who most enthusiastically identified with our neighbor state, and asked, “When were you born?” He answered, “1983.” This allowed me to answer my question by relating a historical happening near the time the student was born.
Ninteen hundred eighty-two was the year that Israel invaded Lebanon. Instead of objecting to this invasion, the United States sent marines into Beirut to help out. A suicide bomber driving a truck into their barracks killed 241 of our soldiers. The Navy exercised revenge from offshore. The U.S. battleship New Jersey hurled bombs the size of cars into Muslim sections of Beirut. This terrible death of civilians led to one of the expressions of what has been labeled as terrorism, namely, the hijacking of air planes. In peace groups, this story illustrates what has been named the “spiral of violence.” Violence begets violence. In Lebanon terrible atrocities followed the one before. Israel invaded Lebanon in 1982 with the purpose of getting rid of their enemies. In killing some 16,000 civilians with the help of our nation, Israel and the United States increased numbers of their enemies.
Having attested to the wisdom of seniors in my attempt to encourage our self-esteem, it is time to focus on the journey of aging. Some of us have memories and gathered wisdom that might contribute to the journey of youth and middle age. It is increasingly difficult to identify when and if one reaches chronological maturity. Middle age has been stretched to 70, even 75. Some futurologists predict that middle age may end at 80 and even 85 down the road in approaching decades. All of which means that for most of my family and friends the journey to aging may likely be longer with more stations along the way.
My hindsight reveals how I was preparing for the journey without knowing it. I fell in love with my vocation in ways that it has become my chief avocation. It is wise before retirement to choose some aspects of your vocation or an avocation so as to never cease dreaming about things you love to do or are called to do for others, for the church, for the kingdom coming. Travel with a purpose, a work camp, an educational trip focused on reconciliation and service. Church people have laid hands on me to write three books. I kept the jewels of my library. And I have more time for meditation and reading before I put things on paper.
Hedonistic endeavors have their fun and place, but hedonistic ventures by themselves can languor in lethargy. The good book tells us that if we are trying solely to save our lives we will lose them. But it we lose our lives for others and participate in the first fruits of the kingdom coming, we will save our lives for divine purposes (Lk. 9:24).
When I left a pastorate, I missed intimate relationships I had with all spectrums and ages of people on the journey of life. In teaching I was lucky to be with younger, less stabilized persons. I have been privileged to go to National Older Adult Conference where I know and love so many people who share my chronological pace and place of walking. Still, I cannot resist going to Annual Conference to maintain wonderful relationships with the next generation of sisters and brothers. They are behind me in numbers of experiences and memories of the past but ahead of me in sensing how devotion to Jesus makes all things new. My family has, no doubt, felt at times that my best friends are in the 16th through the 18th centuries. Nevertheless, we all need neat relationships with our children, grandchildren and other chronologically younger friends. This may solace some who have walked farther on the aging journey. They will be saved from loneliness that is felt when all of their best friends have passed on to glory.
Other Gnostics can better advise you how to manage money in ways that will avoid miserly, greedy, or extravagant traveling. It is important to learn habits that stretch your resources to fit your commitments and dreams as you travel on the journey of aging. I may be a bit better in witnessing for road maps that describe exercise. In this my intuition led me to walk in some ways better than I knew. Lacking rationale, I began avoiding elevators by climbing stairs. Two steps at a time I began ascending four or five stories in order to possibly watch those I had left below walk out of the elevator. Against the advice of those who felt we were foolish, we built a two story house. When it was dark, I would run and jump zigzagging to extend distances on the field between my office and home. Today we follow more recommended exercises of walking, biking, and working out. It would have been better if we would have walked the straight and curvy roads earlier.
Eating joins exercise in all present recommendations and fads for those on the journey of aging. We were fortunate to have had a few decades when we ate chicken instead of prime ribs and filet mignon, not because it tasted better but for the sake of our budget. In retirement I have experienced a minor heart attack, receiving just one stent. In the suggested rehab we listened and discussed eating and exercise habits in seminars. In losing approximately a half pound each week, it took many moons to lose fifteen pounds the gradual way. Such a slow process abetted eating habits that are easier to maintain. Again, start earlier along the way. I realize that such sermons seep with self-righteousness. It is important to remain flexible along the journey. Because we are all different, we need to pick and choose as we learn from others on the trip.
I conclude with theological views that may seem to be heresy to some; perhaps, helpful to others. And they cannot be sealed with certitude. I regard death to be an essential part of the journey. In dying we make room for beautiful little creatures to live, grow, and enjoy existence as ones created in the image of God. I testify that I love to sing “When I get to heaven . . .” And I include in my journey scriptural promises of eternal life. Since eternal life begins early in our journey through faith responses to God’s grace, we are more responsible to participate in incarnations of this-worldly promises. Likewise I rejoice in promises about our journey after death. But I am pleased that I do not need to judge who is going to heaven and who will be in hell. I have not endeavored to know every detail about the furniture of heaven or the temperature of hell. Seeking such details would destroy the mysteries of our entrance into another realm. In my meditations I compare what I think about my future departure with my birth. I had nothing to do with my birth. It has been a blessed gift. I did not plan it. For me, it has been wonderful. Thus, for me conceptions of life beyond death involve letting go, and letting God. Concerning what remains mysterious, I trust that whatever happens will be in the loving hands of our Creator.
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